Courting Friendships

| CA, USA | Friendly | July 17, 2013

(I am in 9th grade. Most of the people in my gym class are also in 9th grade, making us all roughly the same age. There is one boy who is several years older than us, and in a special needs class. A few bullies in the class like to make fun of him for being mostly blind and mentally challenged. I’ve been his friend for about five years.)

Me: “Hey, [boy’s name]. Want to play basketball with me?”

Bully #1: “Why the f*** would you ask HIM to play?”

Bully #2: “He probably can’t even throw the f****** ball!”

(The boy has been quietly standing off to the side, pretending he can’t hear them.)

Boy: “Sure, I love playing basketball! Can I be on your team?”

Me: “Well, I don’t know how to actually play, but we can throw the ball and try to make baskets. Here, catch!”

(I toss the ball gently to the boy, who catches it with no problem.)

Me: “I’ll let you throw first. Can you make a basket from over there?”

(The boy walks over to the line that I point at, which is pretty far away from the basket. By now, most of the class is watching.)

Bully #2: “Dude, he’s gonna f*** it up. Just watch him f*** this up.”

(The boy stands there for a minute, looking back and forth between the spot where he’s standing and the basket. Then he launches the ball and it goes straight through the hoop without even bouncing off the rim. The whole class starts applauding and cheering, and the bullies are both shocked.)

Boy: “How was that? Just like when we play at church, right?”

Me: “Yeah, it is! That was really great!”

(I give him a hug. The bullies shuffle over, looking sheepish.)

Bully #1: “Hey, man… can we play, too? I want to be on YOUR team.”

(Everybody stopped making fun of the boy after that; the bullies even started to defend him!)

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So Many Wheys To Milk A Pun

Ottawa, Canada | Friendly | May 7, 2013

(It is the last week of classes where all assignments are due before finals. My friend and I are texting each other during an all-nighter as we try to complete our massive workload.)

Me: “I’ve reached the point where I don’t care if my points are cheesy; it gets the job done.”

Friend: “No! Cliche is a far worse fate than death!”

Me: “I said cheesy, not cliche. I mozza ask you to pay attention.”

Friend: “Don’t cheddar question my logic if you know what’s gouda for you!”

Me: “Cheese, your logic would brie nothing against mine. My logic comes from years of experience and from age.”

Friend: “Cheese, look at you. It’s a marble you’ve gotten so far with such pule logic. Mine is so much feta.”

Me: “Hey, don’t get fraishe with me! You butter quit while your ahead and brie thankful I don’t come over and break your parm for sage-esting that you are more sharp than mycella.”

Friend: “I bow to you, that was a thing of beauty. Truly, you’re a provolone. Cheddar luck next time. Alright, cheese puns are becoming grating. Leyden to rest.”

Friend: “I agree, we cottage stop.”

Me: “That could have be said feta.”

Friend: “You’re swissing the point.”

Me: “I didn’t mean much parm, just telling you it wasn’t very gouda.”

Friend: “Aura, that’s enough! Sorry to perail your puns, but urda stealing half of them from telemea.”

Me: “Urda cheese string and using an encyclopedia.”

Friend: “I just know moale about cheeses than you!”

Me: “You mozza looked up a list because I cheddar heard of telemea before and found it online. On a seperate note, I think I can finally go to bed. Gouda night!”

Friend: “You’re done?”

Me: “Yup, cheese whiz! That took forever.”

Friend: “Congrats, have the best sleep ever!”

Me: “I curdle ask for a butter reward.”

Friend:: “You can stop with the cheese puns now.”

Me: “Nope, cheese jokes will stick around for awhile. I mozza sleep it off!”

Tales From The Dormside

, | Purchase, NY, USA | Friendly | April 6, 2013

(I’m in my freshman year of college, sitting alone in my dorm room on a Tuesday night. I share the room with two other girls who are currently gone, but occasionally their friends stop by to pick something up. Suddenly, a girl I don’t recognize storms into the room followed by three people, one who I recognize as an RA for another floor.)

Girl: *sits in roommate A’s chair, stammers incoherently, and starts opening and closing drawers*

Three People: *stare at her for a good minute, don’t say a word to me or even look at me, leave the room, and shut the door*

(At this point, the girl takes her pants off, walks to the other side of the room, and starts rummaging through Roommate B’s drawers. Then, she plops down into Roommate B’s bed.)

Girl: *crazily* “I go to sleep now. Hehe!”

(I get up and go out into the hallway, and the three people who were just in my room are all standing outside my door.)

Me: “Uh, WHO is that!? Who are you guys!?”

One of the Three: “You don’t know? We thought she was your roommate. She just peed on your floor!”

Me: “Wait, what? She peed on the floor? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t anyone say anything to me? Why did you leave me alone in the room with her?”

Three People: “Uh…”

(As it turns out, the girl was really drunk and on a ton of drugs. The three people turned out to be RA’s, and they had all seen her acting incoherently outside and decided to take her back to her room. Not knowing where she actually lived though, they followed her and she led them to my room.)

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It’s Hard Work When You’re Hardly Working

| California, USA | Friendly | July 26, 2012

(My friend, who is a bit ditzy and lazy, has just started at an on-campus work program at the college library. She meets up with me at the cafeteria after work.)

Friend: “Work was so bad today. I didn’t even get a chance to sit down and play on the computer.”

Me: “Well, you should be working anyway, not watching videos.”

Friend: “Well, usually we don’t get much problems with people. Some people can be so rude!”

Me: “Okay, so what happened?”

Friend: “Well, today a big group of guys came into the library and got A LOT of books.”

Me: “Alright, well—”

Friend: “Then when they were done reading,they either left their books on the table…”

Me: “Well—”

Friend: “…or they put them on the WRONG shelf.”

Me: “Yes—”

Friend: “…or even on the right shelf, but NOT the right place!”

Me: “Well, you—”

Friend: “I think they personally did that on purpose to mess with me. Like, another group came and sort of did the same thing. I mean, how rude are they?! They can’t even bother to put books away in the right spot!”

Me: “So, you are mad that people didn’t put the books back in the right order?”

Friend: “Well, duh!”

Me: “So you are mad because you think these people are doing this just to spite you?”

Friend: “Well, yeah! They got A LOT of books out, and I had to put them ALL away. Normally I get to like read my book or look on the web, since I normally don’t have much to do.”

Me: “You do realize you work in the library. You should be working, not just sitting and reading. Isn’t one of the jobs you have there putting the books away on the shelves?”

Friend: “Well, yeah! What’s your point?!”

Che Guevara, Rapping Revolutionary

, , | | Friendly Right | August 27, 2008

(I overheard this in a comic book store in a trendy area of town.)

Teenager #1: *points to t-shirt of Che Guevara* “Hey, look, it’s the lead singer of Rage Against The Machine!”

Teenager #2: “I am totally buying one!”

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