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When Kids Dig Their Mothers

| Related | March 17, 2012

(My cousin has come up with their kids and parents. I overhear my cousin, her 3-year-old son, and her father having a conversation.)

Cousin’s son: “Momma? Where do people go when they die?”

Cousin: “Well, they go to Heaven.”

Cousin’s son: “Even their bodies?”

Cousin’s father: “No, their bodies get buried in the ground.”

Cousin’s son: “Oh.” *pause for a few seconds* “Momma, I love you so much, that when you die I’m going to bury you right outside my bedroom window. I can always keep an eye on you and make sure you stay put.”

Fake It ‘Til You Make It

| Right | March 17, 2012

Customer: “Hey, do you work here?”

Me: “Yes, can I help you?”

Customer: “Where is the pasta?”

Me: “I’ll show you…it’s this way.”

(He follows me to the correct aisle. As we approach, I see another girl in the aisle.)

Customer: “S***, that’s my ex! Quick, pretend you’re my new girl!”

Me: *surprised* “Wha—”

(The customer grabs me, puts his arm round me, and practically drags me over to the girl.)

Customer: *to ex* “Yea, I got a new girl. I’m over you.”

Ex: “Um, okay? Great.” *walks away shaking her head*

Customer: *to me* “So, since you’re my girl, do I get to use your staff discount now?”

To Whom This May (Not) Concern

| Right | March 17, 2012

Me: “Medium size latte for Sarah!”

(A customer approaches and looks at the drink.)

Customer: “Oh, sorry, I didn’t order a latte.”

Me: “I’m really sorry about that, Sarah.”

Customer: “I’m not Sarah.”

Me: “You’re not Sarah and you didn’t order a latte?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but this isn’t your coffee…”

Dobby Would Dissaprove

| Romantic | March 16, 2012

(I’m talking to a friend via IM when my boyfriend comes downstairs and starts digging around in a closet.)

Me: “OMG. My boyfriend is all of a sudden going crazy looking for things to throw away in our little storage area under the stairs.”

Friend: “You don’t keep your house elf there?”

(I laugh, and repeat this out loud for my boyfriend’s benefit.)

Me: “My boyfriend says to tell you that we don’t have enough room for a house elf anymore, because there is too much crap under the stairs.”

(A couple minutes go by as my boyfriend mumbles to himself.)

Boyfriend: “How are we supposed to have a happy home without a house elf?”

Love Is A Slippery Subject

| Romantic | March 16, 2012

(We are waiting in the car for a friend.)

Me: “We can follow them if you want.”

Boyfriend: “No. I like sitting with you.”

Me: “Me too.”

Boyfriend: “You like sitting with you too?”

Me: “I was just thinking about how my sentence was off, but then I thought you would just let it slide.”

Boyfriend: “I never let anything slide. I sit at the top of the slide and put me on it so no one can climb up and I’m the only one that gets to slide!”

Me: “What if I wanted to slide?”

Boyfriend: “You could go over to the next slide. Its guard looks wimpy, and you could beat him up.”

Me: “Fine. I could beat you up too, but I would never do that to you, even for a slide.”

Boyfriend: “Even a slide that’s really slippery?”

Me: “Even a really slippery slide.”

Boyfriend: “I love you too.”