(My boyfriend has stayed the night quite a bit at the apartment I share with my sister and my sister’s closest friend. I get this text message while I’m working:)

Boyfriend: “Someone knocked on the door and told me to leave.”

(I’m obviously upset by this so I call up my sister.)

Me: “Was there any reason why you told [Boyfriend] to leave?”

Sister: “Yeah, he doesn’t pay for anything.”

(I pay for my half of the apartment and the gas and electric bills as well as my own food and gas. We are college students so I end up working extra hours just to pay bills on time since neither of my roommates help.)

Me: “He pays for my food when he stays over.”

Sister: “Well, we are on the lease and he is not.”

Me: “He’s only visiting. It saves him money instead of stopping over every night.”

Sister: “We’re on the lease and he’s not. It makes us feel uncomfortable when he is here.”

Me: “How do you think he feels? You guys freak out if we use a little bit of butter just because you claim it’s yours.”

Sister: “He’s not on the lease and we are. We have the say and you can’t do anything about it.”

(I’m moving out in a month, but it feels like five with the way they have been treating me!)

(I was watching an amazing artistic film from Cirque du Soleil. A friend of mine has decided to join me just in time for the diabolos act, a performance done by four young girls each manipulating a rapidly spinning wooden spool on a string between two wooden rods. Having purchased one myself, I’m aware it’s much more complicated than it looks.)

Friend: “What are those things they’re spinning?”

Me: “Diabolos. Basically Chinese yo-yos.”

Friend: “Well s***, you’d have to be Chinese to get any enjoyment out of that. Bet those kids probably made them, too. Wonder what the labor laws are like in Italy?”

Me: *trying to resist being too mean* “This is based out of Canada.”

Friend: “No s***? Well maybe they shipped all of these freaks over from China then.”

(As an aspiring costumer, hoping to one day join the ranks of this brilliant company, this is becoming very insulting, very fast. I get up and move into my room to hunt up my own diabolo.)

Friend: “What’cha doing?”

Me: *comes back out, holding Chinese yo-yo* “Wanna try it?”

Friend: “Holy s***! You have one?!”

(We go outside and I demonstrate how to use it. You have to get it spinning fast by moving it along the string from left to right to get it moving in that direction. I only know how to toss it up about fifteen or twenty feet and catch it again, small potatoes compared to the girls in the company. I do so and watch in satisfaction as his jaw drops. He snatches it from me.)

Friend: “Let ME try that!”

(He starts tugging it back and forth equally in both directions, succeeding in making it wobble aimlessly. He snaps the string and sends it hurtling into the bushes instead of straight up. He fishes it out and tries several more times, each time sending the poor yo-yo further and further in weird directions.)

Me: “What’cha think?”

Friend: “Shut up! This is simple; it’s Chinese!”

(Three more tries ended with it landing once on the roof, once in the fish pond, and then a final time smacking him and coming down on his face. I led him back inside and fetched him an ice pack. For the rest of the film, he was oddly quiet. Probably had a lot to do with that chipped tooth and chipped dignity.)

(We are having a church potluck and I love to make peanut butter fudge. One of the local moms walk up to me with a child in tow.)

Other Mom: “Is this sugar-free?”

Me: “No. It has powdered sugar as well as a few other sugar filled things.”

(The other mom switches from calm to angry.)

Other Mom: “WHAT?! MY SON CAN’T EAT IT THEN. HOW DARE YOU BRING SUGAR-FILLED THINGS AND SHOW THEM OFF IN FRONT OF HIM?! I BET YOU NEVER EXPERIENCED AN ALLERGY IN YOUR LIFE!”

(I’m incredibly taken back.)

Me: “Excuse me? I have Celiac disease. If I eat anything that is not gluten-free, I get really sick. I probably shouldn’t come to potlucks because of it. So you, someone I barely know, accuse me of being rude to a little kid for almost the same reason?”

(The woman turned pale and walked off, towing her son behind her.)

(The conversation has come round to expensive foods.)

Colleague #1: “You know, caviar is technically vegetarian because it’s fish eggs”

Me: “You know they kill the fish to get the eggs, right?”

Colleague #2: “I thought they just squeezed it out of the fish.”

(About five years ago, a movie rental store was going out of business and was selling copies of newer DVDs to get rid of its stock. I am with a male friend, who is gay. I am looking at movies that I hadn’t yet seen that were priced at $5 each, and without thinking, say the following:)

Me: “I need to get Knocked Up.”

Friend: *without hesitation* “You are barking up the WRONG tree.”