(My husband and I have just finished watching ‘Titanic.’)

Me: “Why do I get the feeling that if we were Jack and Rose, I’d be the one in the water, and you’d be the one on the iceberg?”

Husband: “Well, you are a better floater than me.”

(My boyfriend and I are eating dinner and chatting. My nose is running a little, and I explain to him that this is something that happens when I eat food that’s too hot.)

Boyfriend: “That’s weird. You’re WEIRD. I’m telling!”

Me: “What? Telling who?”

Boyfriend: “…your MOM!”

Me: “Okay.”

(I pull out my phone and call my mother.)

Me: “Mom, [boyfriend] is calling me weird!”

Mom: “Tell him he’s a poopy-head!”

Me: *to boyfriend* “Mom says you’re a poopy-head.”

Boyfriend: *yelling into phone* “YOU’RE weird, too!”

(I am about two years old. I fall and hit my head, ending up with a rather large gash on my face. I am a very serious young child.)

Mom’s Friend: “Oh! I see [my name] had an accident!”

(She turns to me, and speaks in a baby voice.)

Mom’s Friend: “Did oo fall and get a boo-boo?”

Me: “No. It’s a cut.”

(I am sitting at home working on my computer. My mum walks in to the room.)

Mum: “Are you pigeon-ing tomorrow?”

Me: “What?”

Mum: “Well, what do pigeons do?”

Me: “Poop on things?”

Mum: “NO!”

(Mum starts making pigeon noises and flapping her arms in an attempt to make me guess what pigeons do. My uncle walks in.)

Mum: “You’ll understand! What do pigeons do?”

Uncle: “Crap on everything.”

Mum: “ARGH!”

(Eventually she tells us she is trying to ask if I am coming home tomorrow. Uncle and I are laughing too hard to really care.)

(A very attractive, well dressed young woman comes up to my desk.)

Client: “I’m applying for jobs in retail and finance, but I’m not even getting interviews. I’ve got the qualifications they’re wanting, so I can’t understand it. Do you think the fact I got them in prison might be a problem?”

Me: *as neutrally as I can* “Well, some employers can be a bit sticky about things like that. I suppose it would depend why you were inside.”

Client: *brightly* “Armed robbery!”

Me: “It’s possible…”