(My grandmother, who is 84 years old, is a quite accomplished artist who has won awards and honorable mentions in multiple art shows over the years. She has decided that she would like to paint a barn for her next painting, so we are driving around outside the city limits taking digital photographs of barns for her inspiration. At each house we stop at, we knock and ask permission to take pictures, and everyone so far has been super friendly until we run afoul of a seriously nasty couple. My grandmother knocks on the door of the house to ask photographing permission, to which a girl appearing to be about 16 or 17 answers the door.)

Grandmother: “I am an artist and I was just wondering if we could have your permission to make a few pictures of your barn and windmill there?”

Girl: “I suppose…” *slams the door in my Grandmother’s face*

Grandmother: “Well, that was rude.”

Me: “Let’s just take the pictures and move on down the road.”

(I take about four or five shots of the barn on the property and the accompanying windmill next to it. We return to the car, pull back onto the road, and continue on. About a mile down the road, I notice the car behind is practically in my backseat, so, thinking it just some impatient a**-hole wanting to speed past, I pull aside to let them by. The car, however, pulls in behind me blocking my exit from the driveway. It turns out to be the psychotic parents of the girl back at the house.)

Man: “Excuse me! I want a word!”

Me: “Yes?”

Man: “I just saw you leave my house! What did you want there?”

Me: “Oh, we just wanted to take a few pictures of your barn. My grandmother is artist.”

Man: “Do you have a business card?”

Me: “No… My grandmother is just an ar—”

Man: “YOU CAN’T JUST WALK INTO SOMEONE’S HOUSE! PEOPLE GET SHOT LIKE THAT! THAT’S HOW PEOPLE GET SHOT!”

Me: “People get shot acting like idiots on the side of the road as well. Take your hand off my car door. Now.”

(At this point, the man’s equally insane wife exits the vehicle and begins yelling at me and my grandmother about how we terrified their daughter by knocking the door.)

Woman: “YOU CAN’T JUST WALK INTO PEOPLE’S HOUSES! YOU SCARED OUR DAUGHTER TO DEATH!”

Grandmother: “We certainly didn’t walk into your house; I simply knocked on the door. I wasn’t crawling through the window. What’s your problem?”

Woman: “YOU CAN’T DO THAT! THAT’S NOT WHAT PEOPLE DO!”

(Now the man is making a big show of writing down my license plate number as though he thinks this will intimidate me in some way. It does not.)

Me: “Sir, I’ve voice recorded and video recorded the entirety of your behavior here and I will be filing a harassment report with the police at my earliest opportunity.”

Man: “THAT’S FINE! WE GOT YOUR LICENSE AS WELL! YOU CAN’T JUST TERRIFY PEOPLE LIKE THIS! THAT’S HOW PEOPLE GET SHOT! I WANT A BUSINESS CARD! YOU DON’T HAVE A BUSINESS CARD!”

(I stick my phone out my window at this point at take a shot of HIS license plate, which causes both of these jackasses to at last return to their vehicle and tear off down the road, presumably to return home and comfort their 17-year-old daughter who was scarred and traumatized from an 84-year-old woman asking her permission to take a photograph…)

(My friend and I work at the same office, so we will often talk to each other over our chat program we use. I’m looking at a new client’s information and notice that we had just had his neighbor in two hours earlier.)

Me: “Oh, hey, Mr. [Client #1]’s neighbor was here! That’s uncanny.”

Friend: “Who is the neighbor?”

Me: “Mrs. [Client #2]. She lives at [1234 Address], and he lives at [1233 Address]. I’ve never had that happen before.”

Friend: “Oh, yeah, we’ve had family members come in who didn’t know they were both clients. In fact, I once had a guy who didn’t get some paperwork. I asked him for an updated address to find out he had moved into the house right beside me. I told him it would be no problem dropping his paperwork off at his house.”

Me: “I would worry about doing something like that.”

Friend: “Why?”

Me: “Oh, you know… Midnight drop off. Asking why no one has called. Why he hasn’t heard anything.”

Me: “Followed up by staring at your window mournfully while he tries to figure out why you aren’t answering him when he thinks about you. Or why you never look him in the eyes when he’s staring through your window at you while you sleep. Or why you won’t talk to him when he’s talking to you… Well, it’s not really you. It’s a statue that’s supposed to be you. Okay, it’s not really you. It’s Ronald McDonald, but he tried to paint it to look like you. It just came out looking like Ronald McDonald. Okay, it wasn’t really a statue he painted; it was a mannequin out of a dumpster. But his heart was wholly in the makeup he smeared on its face!”

Friend: “Either you have thought way too much about this, or you’re trying to creep me out.”

Me: “Are you creeped out?”

Friend: “A little!”

Me: “Mission accomplished!”

(My brother invites a friend over one day during the summer. We’ve just harvested in the gardens, and there’s produce of all kinds on the table, including a pile of cucumbers.)

Friend: “Look, cucumbers!” *picks one up and sniffs it* “They smell like… cucumbers!”

(A couple of friends and I are hanging out at my house. While we wait for the pizza to arrive Friend #1 is complaining about being hungry.)

Friend #1: “I’m so hungry I could literally eat both pizzas all by myself.”

Friend #2: “You mean figuratively.”

(About five minutes later:)

Friend #1: “I’m literally about to send out a search party for the delivery guy.”

Friend #2: “Figuratively.”

Friend #1: “If you correct me again I’m going to punch you.”

(When the pizza arrives:)

Friend #1: *to delivery boy* “I literally love you right now!”

Friend #2: “Figuratively.”

(She punched him but only managed four slices before she couldn’t eat anymore.)

(I’m sitting with two of my friends at lunch. Friend #1 uses a wheelchair, and likes to make jokes about it. Friend #2 tends to seem violent but most likely wouldn’t hurt a fly. After discussing a time that I once got Friend #2 into trouble by telling her about a popular Internet prank, this conversation ensues:)

Friend #1: *to Friend #2 and me* “I swear, you two are crazy sometimes!”

Me: “Don’t worry. If she kills anyone, I won’t be her alibi. I’m too honest to be a good one anyway!”

Friend #2: *to Friend #1* “You could make a good alibi!”

Me: *without thinking, pretending to be Friend #1* “I definitely wasn’t at the crime scene, Your Honor. There were stairs!”

(Everyone within earshot burst out laughing, even Friend #1, though he did throw a disappointed glare in my direction for a few seconds!)