(One of my boyfriend’s roommates is lazy and sloppy. He brings over a giant loaf of fresh bread and leaves it on the counter, unwrapped.)

Me: “You should probably put that in the cupboard. Bread can go stale really fast.”

Lazy Roommate: “Nah, it’ll stay fresher if I leave it out!”

(A few days later, my boyfriend sees that it’s still out.)

Boyfriend: “I think you should put the bread away. It’s starting to go stale.”

Lazy Roommate: “Don’t worry about it. I’ll eat all of it by then.”

(Several days later, their other roommate sees that the remaining half a loaf is completely stale.)

Other Roommate: “[Lazy Roommate], YOU HAVE A GIANT CROUTON!”

(I have just been in a serious car accident and both cars are totaled. The other driver and I are resting on a bus bench while numerous police and firemen take care of business. Suddenly, an SUV screeches into the nearby parking lot and a woman dressed in pajamas and fuzzy slippers gets out and marches over to a female officer. I can hear a lot of shouting and yelling and the officer telling the woman to leave. The woman glares at everyone at the scene and stomps off. A few minutes later, the local middle school principal and campus officer pull up. They are friends of my husband, who has come to be with me at the scene of the crash.)

Principal: “Hey, are you okay? We recognized your last name on the radio when we were coming down here.”

Husband: “Yes, she’s fine. Just banged up and bruised. What are you two doing here?”

Principal: “One of the mothers called the school to complain that her child was ‘traumatized’ on her way to school because of an accident she saw and she wanted to complain. She told the secretary she was going to come to the crash scene and tell someone off for upsetting her child, so we’d thought we’d better come down here and check it out.”

Me: “What? SHE’s upset because her daughter, whom she should have been driving to school herself, was upset because she saw our crash? Good Lord, maybe she should never let her leave the house if she’s gonna protect her from every harsh thing in the world!”

(We laughed about it, but later when I asked the female officer what crazy pajama lady said, I was told that she was there insisting that she be allowed to yell at the person who caused the crash and scared her daughter…)

(I’m with my friends at the movies. As I’m looking at the featured attractions I can’t help but frown as most of the movies only have a 3D version and no normal version.)

Me: “I wish that they would at least have non-3D versions of all the movies playing, too. My dad wants to see a lot of them but can’t enjoy them because of the 3D.”

Moviegoer: *in front of us looks to me and sneers* “Your dad needs to get with the times. If he HATES 3D movies then he should just wait for the DVD release then and stop his moaning. But he just hates it because it ‘new and hip.’ And why should you complain? You a daddy’s girl? Gotta protect your daddy?”

Me: “Excuse you. I never said he hated 3D—”

Moviegoer: “Then why wouldn’t he want to go, huh?!”

Me: “Because, jerk, he’s blind in his left eye. The 3D effects do nothing for him—”

Moviegoer: “Tch! The glasses—”

Me: “THOSE glasses don’t work either! It just makes the movie darker for him and if he takes them off it’s all blurry because of the 3D effect.”

Moviegoer: “But—”

Me: “And I NEVER said he hated them. He will still go and see them, but they’re not as fun for him.”

Moviegoer: “Uh—”

Me: “So next time you assume that just because somebody is older than you and may not like something; it’s not because they’re old and can’t ‘move with the times.’ It could be a legit problem, d***. Now, if you’ll excuse us, YOU’RE in our way. Move it!”

Moviegoer: *goes red and scurries away*

Friend: “You know… I wanted to smack him so hard… but I think you smacking him down like that was much better.”

(My fiancé and I, after being an established couple for several years, have finally set a date for our wedding, about a month from the time of this story. I am alone in the bridal area of a large department store, though I have sent pictures to my mom, sister, and several girlfriends for their opinion. I’ve just tried on a fabulous dress and walk back out into the retail area to think about whether I want to buy it or not. I am carrying the dress over one arm, since it is not long. I start looking at jewelry. An older woman comes up and starts talking to me.)

Woman: “That’s a lovely dress! Are you going to buy it!”

Me: “I’m thinking about it.”

Woman: “Is that for… your wedding?”

Me: “Yes, it is.”

Woman: “But you’re alone!”

Me: “Well, it didn’t seem worth having them come visit when they’ll just have to come back in a month for the wedding.”

Woman: “You’re getting married in a month?!” *calls to the sales clerk* “This woman is getting married in a month! She needs your help! You should hang this dress up!”

Me: “I’m fine, really…”

Woman: “Oh, this necklace would look lovely!”

(I finally put the woman off by saying that I’ll likely wear something heirloom from my grandmother, and tell the sales clerk I’m ready to buy the dress. We walk over to a register.)

Me: “I didn’t want to be rude to her, but I’m really not comfortable with that sort of thing…”

Sales Clerk: “Wait, you mean she wasn’t with you?”

Me: “No, she just came up to me and was astonished that I was shopping alone. I really hate this sort of thing. I don’t mind having come out by myself. I was texting everyone and they all thought the dress looked great.”

Sales Clerk: “I thought she was your mother, or something…”

Me: *sighs* “No, complete stranger.”

(For the record, the necklace I wore was a gift from my mother-in-law.)

(A couple of my friends and I are stopping in a fast food restaurant to get a bite to eat before seeing a movie. As we wait for our food, we notice a couple of younger boys, about 12 years old, eyeing us from a back corner. We are all 18-19.)

Friend #1: “Come on. I’m pretty sure the movie starts in 20 minutes.”

Friend #2: “Yeah, and those boys are kind of creeping me out.”

(I glance at them to see them talking heatedly among themselves, but we decide to toss our trash and head out. Before we can even get out the door, one of the boys approaches one of my friends by the trash cans.)

Friend #3: *accidentally bumping into him* “Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

12-Year-Old Boy: “It’s fine.” *smug look* “You know, I would really like it if I got your number, babe.”

Friend #3: “Why? Do you need a babysitter?”