As maid of honor for my friend’s wedding, I agree to manage the RSVPs. It’s a smallish wedding, about 60 people, and they’ve decided not to invite any children. After the initial invitations go out, the groom’s father asks if he could give an invite to his cubicle-mate to try to improve their work camaraderie. The couple agrees. A few days later, I get the RSVP in the mail. It’s scribbled over, an angry note attached.

“Obviously, you have NO IDEA how to be polite for a wedding. FAMILIES are invited to weddings, INCLUDING CHILDREN. It’s rude to expect people to PAY a babysitter just for YOU. WE WILL ALL BE THERE. I hope your MARRIAGE is better than your INVITES.”

Attached were RSVPs for the couple, three children they had from various previous relationships, and two children they had as a couple. All were listed as wanting the prime rib, including the seven-month-old baby.

The couple and the groom’s family had a huge fight over this. The bride wanted to rescind the invite for the whole family, but the groom’s parents were worried about how it would affect the work conditions; after all, he had invited him to try to improve their relationship. In the end, the groom’s father agreed to pay for his coworker’s meals.

The day of the wedding, the groom’s father’s phone rings just before the ceremony. It’s his coworker, saying he will be late. The father quickly replies, then hangs up in time to see his son to the altar. The family ends up not showing to the ceremony, or the reception. It’s blatantly obvious as there are seven tables, with one completely empty.

When the father of the groom gets back to work, he confronts his coworker, who says he decided not to come because the father of the groom was “terse” on the phone. However, he does have a wedding gift. It’s a coffee maker, used and put back in the box, with old coffee grounds still in it.

Needless to say, the olive branch of the invite did not help the relationship between the father of the groom and his cubicle-mate.

At the time of this story, cell phones were only just booming; Bluetooth was incredibly rare, speaker mode was not a standard feature, and legislation concerning driving with a cell phone was virtually non-existent.

I was driving down the highway in my SUV to meet with some friends at a diner we like. Simultaneously, I was on the phone with my girlfriend. It was a warm spring day, so I had my windows rolled down. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a car that I believed was hugging the lane divider a little too closely. Wary this might be a scammer and given that my exit was still much further, I changed lanes to get away from him. I overshot it and wound up on a collision course with a second vehicle that was hiding in my blind spot, so I sharply turned the wheel the other way to correct it.

Big mistake.

The sudden jerk sent me rolling. I was wearing my seat belt, so all I did while rolling was appreciate my absolute stupidity. Thankfully, everyone stopped when they saw me flip, so I missed every other vehicle during my roll. I then started cursing when I noticed I dropped my phone, having not ended the call with my girlfriend, who thus no doubt heard every sound of the accident.

The moment the SUV stopped, I was out of my seat rummaging around the inside of the car. I had people getting out of their cars coming to check on me, and all I yelled was, “FIND MY PHONE! IT MIGHT HAVE FLOWN OUT THE WINDOW!”

Understandably, that confused everyone.

“I WAS TALKING TO MY GIRLFRIEND! I NEED TO TELL HER I’M NOT DEAD!”

Thankfully, it was under my seat. Once I had sent the message and calmed down, I realized the SUV had come to a stop right-side-up. The damage didn’t look like much since all the doors and hoods opened and closed normally, and the engine was still flawless. However, I later found out that due to the damage done to the frame, which required tearing apart to fix, it was considered totaled.

Even so, I drove down to meet my friends in my totaled SUV and recounted the whole story. The cherry on top came when we walked out and were assessing the damage. One of my friends yelled, in absolute seriousness, “YOU ROLLED IN A PARKING SPOT?!”

(When I am in college, I walk from my apartment to campus. On this particular day, it is raining fairly hard, so I’ve brought an umbrella, and since there is an umbrella stand near the entrance to one particular building I am going to, I choose to leave it in the stand rather than dragging it around with me. After I get done with class, I am coming back when I spot someone pulling my umbrella out of the rack.)

Me: “Hey! That’s actually mine!”

(The person turned to look at me before bolting through the doors, out into the still-pouring rain, not even opening the umbrella. They got about ten feet before tripping and falling on their face, then scrambling to their feet and keeping on running. The umbrella only cost me about ten dollars, and I did have to walk home in the rain after that, but I considered the slam to the hard pavement they had when they tripped to probably be sufficient punishment.)

(My daughter and son are young, and we live in a house that has two very damp bedrooms. I find it best to put both kids in the third bedroom that doesn’t have a damp problem, as I am worried for their health; my eldest has asthma and the youngest has allergies. Some friends and I are discussing our houses. I mention the damp problem and what I have to do to stop the kids from getting sick.)

Friend: “You have a boy and girl sharing a room; that’s disgusting.”

Me: “What?”

Friend: “A boy and girl in the same room; it’s unnatural.”

Me: “What do you mean, ‘unnatural’?”

Friend: “What if they do something?”

Me: “Do what?”

Friend: “You know, do unnatural things together; it’s a temptation for them.”

Other Friend: “What the f***? They are three and six years old; what are they going to do?”

Friend: “It’s disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Me: “I don’t think so. I’m trying to keep both kids healthy until our lease is up and we can move.”

Friend: “It’s not right.”

(And with that, she walked off and never spoke to me again. Didn’t miss her one bit.)

(My friend’s brother travels a lot for work and has for years. Whenever he pops back into town, he tells us all about it and also gets to vent about the stresses of traveling. Usually my friend’s kid, at this point nine years old, plays in the adjacent room with her toys while the grownups talk over coffee. We assume she’s not interested in that kind of stuff until one random day, a commercial for a well-known sandwich chain comes on TV…)

Commercial: *what my friend’s kid hears* “You can get 30 euros for 90 dollars.”

Kid: *long-suffering sigh* “Those currency exchange rates just keep getting worse and worse.”

(Once our laughter died down enough for us to breathe again, we explained to her what “gyros” were.)