(While browsing tables at a yard sale with my mom, a lady taps my shoulder. I turn around.)

Lady: “Oh! It’s not you.”

Me: “Yes, it is!”

(My mum is on her break, talking with an elderly Italian man about culture.)

Mum: “The Greeks invented heaps of things. I’ve heard a few of them say they invented sex.”

Man: “Really! They can say they invented sex, but we Italians introduced it to women!”

(I’m talking with my best friend over IM about what he’s wearing to my upcoming wedding. He’s my ‘man of honor,’ but we’re basically eloping, so I’m not enforcing a dress code other than ‘dress nicely.’)

Me: “What are you wearing to my wedding?”

Friend: “I’m not sure yet. Why is there a theme or something? Do I need a Godzilla costume? I guess I’d be more of a Mecha-Godzilla. You would be Mothra and [Groom] would be Godzilla. [Best Man] and [His Wife] could be Gamora and the creepy recycling monster thing…”

(Fairly recently, my live-in boyfriend of five years broke up with me, citing that he never wanted to marry anybody or even be in a relationship. Within a matter of weeks, he has started dating a much younger girl: we’re 30, she’s 19. Though I’ve met her and she’s truly a perfectly lovely person, sometimes I get bitter and refer to her as ‘his 12-year-old w****.’ My ex contacts me to tell me he has proposed to her.)

Me: “So, I think I’m going to get [Ex]’s ’12-year-old w****’ an engagement present.”

Best Friend: “REALLY?!”

Me: “Yeah. I think she deserves a new Barbie doll for the occasion. They still make Bride Barbie, right?”

Best Friend: “Oh, my God, yes. The one that catches fire when she rollerblades through gasoline!”

Me: “THAT. That is why I love you.”

(It’s my 18th birthday. I’ve invited some friends over for a party. My mother has got sparklers for my cake as well as candles. While she’s lighting the candles on the cake, my friends are talking. After a joke, all my friends laugh but one, who is staring past me in confusion.)

Me: “[Friend #1], what’re you doing?”

Friend #1: “Is your microwave SUPPOSED to be on fire?”

(At this point, all five of us turn to look at the cake. Turns out what my mother thought were sparklers were actually just VERY thin candles. When she’d lit them all the smaller ones melted the wax on the long thin ones enough to make them lean against the microwave. We all start shouting to get my oblivious mother’s attention and she proceeds to blow out the fire on the microwave, toss it out the back door, and then go back to talking like nothing happened.)

Friend #2: “This is why I like coming over here. It’s always exciting!”