(My housemate and I ate both female and pretty comfortable around each other. Both of us are running late this morning, so she is in the shower while I’m having a “bird bath” at the sink.)

Housemate: *hopping out of the shower* “I bet this is what [Male Friend] thinks us living together is like all the time, only with more pillow fights.”

(Several friends and I often LARP in the evenings in an empty lot behind a strip mall, which has some restaurants that are frequented by police officers from the nearby department. Sometimes, if they aren’t busy, the officers will get food to go, sit in their cars, and watch us play. One night we are playing alone when a police car drives up with its lights on, and the officers get out and approach us.)

Friend: “Hi, officers! Is something wrong?”

Officer: “Not unless you’ve seen anyone else around here tonight.”

Friend: “Nope, just us. Why?”

Officer: “We got a call from someone driving by who said they saw ‘rival gangs’ out here trying to kill each other with swords. We thought it was probably you guys, but of course we had to check it out.”

(We all kind of look at our ‘swords’ in confusion, since they’re basically pool noodles cut down and wrapped around sticks, and would be hard to mistake for real swords.)

Me: “So do we need to leave?”

Officer: “Nah, y’all are fine. We have to keep patrolling now, so call us if you come across any sword-wielding gangsters.”

(That was the first and only time anyone ever had a problem with us playing there. The whole department must have been talking about that call, though, since from then on any officers who watched us play would ask if we’d found those sword-wielding gangsters yet!)

(I am at my friend’s apartment, and we’ve been chatting about a lot of random things. Recently, we have moved on to the topic of racing.)

Me: “It would be pretty cool to be in a professional race. I’d be scared, yeah, but can you imagine the speed of those cars?”

Friend: “Yeah, it would. What kinda race do you think you would do?”

Me: “Since it’s hypothetical anyway, why not the Indy 500?”

Friend: “The Indy 500? How long is that?”

Me: “…”

Friend: “…”

Me: “…”

Friend: “Pretend I’m smart.”

(I’m an upperclassman in college and speaking to an acquaintance several years my senior.)

Acquaintance: “What’s your major?”

Me: “Biochemistry.”

Acquaintance: “Oh! So, what do you think about these?” *points vaguely to the sky*

Me: “Uh…?”

Acquaintance: “Chemtrails.”

Me: “It’s… just water vapor.”

(Cue several minutes of me trying to explain how jet engines naturally produce water vapor and why some “chemtrails” are longer than others. I think she tuned me out halfway through.)

(A friend and I are talking to the son of a mutual friend.)

Mutual Friend’s Son: “I gotta pee.” *walks off to the restroom*

Me: “Randomly announcing he has to pee, and then walking off. Yep, that’s definitely [Mutual Friend]’s kid.”

Friend: *laughs* “Was there ever any doubt?”

Me: “No, not really.”

(About a minute or so later, our mutual friend comes barreling through.)

Mutual Friend: “Excuse me. I gotta pee.”

(He couldn’t figure out why we were laughing.)