(There is a student who is habitually late for class because she hangs around her locker gossiping with her friends until the bell rings, and then makes a mad dash for class. She is usually anywhere from four to six minutes late. When chastised for the habitual tardiness, she might be on time or – more usually – only a little late for the next class, but by the second class she’d be back to the usual time. One day she comes racing into her first class just a few seconds after the bell rings, and the teacher dryly comments.)
Teacher: “Congratulations, [Student]. you’re late a little earlier than usual!”
(The class chuckles.)
Student: *protesting* “But, Mr. [Teacher], I’m not late. I just got here!”
(The entire class, including the teacher, immediately cracks up.)
Teacher: “You do have a valid, if poorly phrased, point.”
(My labmate and I are returning to a training session for our lab. We are a little late due to our lunch situation. She decides to run ahead to let everyone know I’m nearly there. She mostly did this to calm our ‘type-A’ lab manager, who has already contacted my labmate.)
Labmate: *texting* “Everyone is waiting in the main lobby. And [Lab Manager] is PISSED!”
(After the session…)
Labmate: “So, I tried to text you when I got to the building. Then I realized I sent the message to [Lab Manager].”
(My husband and I are driving to a wedding. I’m playing with his new phone and set his background to a wedding photo of us. Then we stop for food at a service station and my husband looks at phone and changes the background to plain blue.)
Me: “Why did you delete our wedding photo?”
Husband: “I like blue.”
Me: “My phone background is our wedding picture.”
Husband: “I like blue.”
Me: “I thought you liked me, too.”
Husband: “I LIKE blue.”
(I am working on a hobby project at home and a small fly keeps buzzing all over. It is driving me crazy for the better part of two hours and I finally have enough. I reach over and grab an envelope, which is thick and sturdy with whatever is in it, and I start to mercilessly swat and smack at the fly. My wife comes in and just stares at me.)
Wife: “What are you doing?!”
Me: “This godd*** fly is pissing me off! I’m trying to kill it!”
Wife: “You do know that is our marriage license, which I asked you to file three days ago, right?”
(I start to gingerly put it down, embarrassed.)
Me: “I do now… Let me just go file this…”
Wife: “Thank you, darling!”
Me: “Where do want to eat for our anniversary?”
Wife: “Some place kid-friendly.”
Me: “How about Hooters? Kids eat free on Sundays.”
Wife: *death stare*
