(A childhood friend of mine has just bought a house with his fiancé, and I bring them a pizza and help them unpack boxes. After dinner, we’re chilling on the back porch and gushing about the house.)

Friend: “It’s perfect. Not so isolated that [Fiancé] feels totally alone, but screened in enough that we feel peaceful.”

Me: “And the view is to die for. Nothing like living on top of a mountain for a great vista.”

Friend: “I know, right? We’ve been trying to think of a good name for the place. Something nerdy.”

Me: “The Eyrie?”

Friend: “Nah, not specific enough. I’m thinking The Lonely Mountain House, but [Fiancé] wants to call it Salamandastron.”

Me: “Why? You’re nowhere near the sea.”

Friend: “Oh, yeah, you haven’t met the neighbors! Hang on. Watch, you’ll get a kick out of this.”

(He stands, cups his hands around his mouth, aims his voice off to one side into the woods where we can hear the noise of children playing, and shouts at the top of his voice.)

Friend: “EULAILIAAA!”

Kids: *yelling back* “REDWAAALL!”

Me: “Oh, my god… you have the best neighbors ever. Introduce me, please!”

(Ten minutes later, two boys and a girl come sprinting up the driveway. My friend tells them I’m an otter, and now every time I come to visit “Salamandastron,” the neighbors all call me Skipper.)

(I am playing a first-person shooter game with Friend #1, while Friend #2 works on homework in the same room. The two of us who are playing are working together to clear wave after wave of enemies and have just finished a wave.)

Friend #2: “Can you shoot each other, and if so, does it hurt your character?”

Me and Friend #1: *whips the characters around so they are facing each other and immediately attempts to blast each other*

Me: “We can, but we don’t take damage.”

(Moment of silence.)

Friend #1: “I like how we both immediately attempt to murder each other without second thought.”

Me: “Yeah, same. We’re such a great team.”

(Two little girls who look to be about 7 and 9 years old come into our ice cream shop. The older one notices that one of our ice cream’s titles has the name Elvis in it.)

Little Girl #1: “Do you know who Elvis is?”

Little Girl #2: “No.”

Little Girl #1: *sadly* “He’s dead.”

(I am with a few friends while a couple of them set up a new TV stand. We are all bantering good-naturedly so I pull out my phone and record a video of it. Everyone is aware I am doing this. About five minutes after I put the phone away, Friend #2 picks up her bag and goes to the door.)

Friend #1: “Oh, are you leaving?”

Friend #2: “Yeah.” *points at me* “Don’t you EVER film me again!”

(Friend #2 storms out. The rest of us blink at each other for a few seconds.)

Friend #2: *from outside* “A**-HOLE!”

(We found out later that Friend #2 had a phobia of being photographed or recorded, and never mentioned it to any of us.)

(My sister and I are six years apart. I am just making my way into the job market and am just getting by, whereas my sister is successful and well-off. I love her dearly and don’t hold this against her in anyway because I know she worked hard. I’m out shopping with a friend and find a bottle of perfume that my sister had brought back for me from a trip she bought and I was quite fond of.)

Me: “Oh, hey, look, I found [Perfume] that I love.” *getting sad* “I bet it’s expensive.”

Friend: *looking at price* “Not really; it’s only $6 a bottle.”

Me: “REALLY?! Awesome. I am definitely going to get some.”

Friend: “Wait… why are you so happy? Your sister got you a pretty crappy gift.”

Me: “It’s not crappy. I like it and I can afford it!”

Friend: *looks at me a little weirdly* “You like wearing crappy cheap perfume?”

Me: “[Friend], you have complimented me on how I smell before.”

Friend: *mutters*