(I’m lying on the couch, not feeling so well and being kind of depressing. My boyfriend comes over and lays on me in an attempt to cheer me up.)

Boyfriend: *mashes his face against my left breast * “BOOOOOOOB!”

Me: “Uh…”

Boyfriend: *mashes his face against my right breast* “BOOOOOOOOOOOB!”

(I smile a little. My boyfriend places both hands flat on either breast and moves one up and one down repeatedly.)

Boyfriend: “I GOT TWO TURN TABLES AND A MICROPHONE!”

(I stares at him with a confused look, giggling a little bit.)

Boyfriend: “I need a microphone.”

(My boyfriend grabs a pen and sticks it between my breasts so that it’s sticking straight up towards him.)

Me: “What are you—”

Boyfriend: “I GOT TWO TURNTABLES AND A MICROPHONE!”

(I finally start laughing and then take the pen away and put it back down.)

Me: “Enough of that.”

(He stares at me with a tiny little grin and looks a little concerned. )

Boyfriend: “Why do I feel like everything I do ends up on NotAlwaysRomantic?”

Me: “I believe the words you’re looking for are, ‘Thank you [my name] for doing such a wonderful job of putting the Wii together, and so promptly, which I failed to provide to my darling wife.'”

Mum: “Who are you talking to?”

Me: “Myself.”

Mum: “Right-o.”

Me: “I’m just practicing for when [Stepdad] fails to thank me for putting the Wii up.”

(I am out teaching my brother how to ride a scooter. We are on our way back when he slows down and stops.)

Brother: “My nipples hurt!”

Me: “What? Do you even know where your nipples are?”

Brother: *points to his lower ribs* “They’re here.”

Me: “Those are your RIBS!”

Brother: “But do I have nipples?”

Me: “Uhhh… I guess… but they’re not in your ribs.”

Brother: “But do girls have nipples?”

Me: “Yeah, girls do have them.”

Brother: “But not all the girls have nipples. The ones with the really long hair don’t have nipples!”

Me: “WHAT? Where did you learn that?”

Brother: “Sesame Street!”

(I am working as a cashier. A very tall and slender man, in his late 20s, wearing all black, with shoulder length black hair, facial piercings, and white and black face make up, and his nails painted black comes up to my till.)

Me: “Hi, did you find everything? Or is there something I can help you with?”

Customer: *in a very quiet low voice* “Um… yeah. I was wondering if you can hold this for a little while. Mama bear is done shopping over at [grocery store], and I need to go get her.”

Me: “Sure, if you just want to leave it here, I can put it under my till or you can take it to customer service.”

Customer: “I will leave it here.”

(The customer walks away. After about 15 minutes, he comes back to my till.)

Customer: “Hi, mama bear wasn’t finished, so I need to know if you can hold my stuff a while longer.”

Me: “Sure thing, that won’t be a problem.”

(He then proceeds to reach out a touch my hair.)

Customer: “I feel the energy of your hair. It wants you to know, it loves you.”

Me: “…”

(Once again he walks out the door. After another hour he comes back in with an older lady, in her 80s with a cane.)

Customer: “See Oma, this is who I was telling you about. Do you feel that energy?”

Old Lady: “Yes, she feels very light, like clouds.”

Me: “Are you ready to pay?”

Old Lady: “In a minute, dear.”

(This is when a middle aged lady, maybe 50, walks in grabs their hands and starts leading them toward the door without purchasing their items.)

Customer: “But mama bear, the hair!”

Coworker: “That was odd.”

(I am manning the phones late on a Saturday afternoon.)

Me: “Good afternoon, [TV service]; how can I help you?”

Caller: “The TV’s gone wrong. There will be somebody in at six to fix it. The football’s on tonight.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, we cannot get anybody out until Monday.”

Caller: “You have gotta be f****** joking. You advertise 24-hour service.”

Me: “We have a 24-hour answering service to take the details. Repairs are carried out from 8 am until 6 pm, Monday through to Saturday.”

Caller: “Look, c***! Get somebody round my house now, or I’ll come round there and smash your f****** face in!”

Me: “Sorry, sir, I can’t help.”

Caller: “Okay ‘boy’, put me through to your boss. I want to talk to the organ grinder, not the monkey.”

(The boss is in the office with me, and has heard my half of the conversation. My boss picks up the phone, and puts it in speaker mode.)

Boss: “Good evening, sir. How can I be of assistance?”

Caller: “Your f****** ‘TEA BOY’ has told me I can’t get my TV fixed today!”

Boss: “The f****** tea boy is absolutely correct.”

(My boss puts the phone down on the caller, cutting him off in mid-flow of swear words. He looks over and smiles.)

Boss: “That’s the way to handle them. Now, how about a cup of tea now that you have been promoted?”