(I am out to breakfast with some friends from work.)

Me: “Excuse me, do you know if the cook uses milk to make the omelets or just eggs?”

Waitress: “Just eggs. Are you allergic to milk?”

Me: “No, but I am lactose intolerant and I forgot to bring my meds.”

(We all order our food. However, after the waitress leaves, I overhear someone from the table next to us asking for a manager.)

Other Customer: *loudly* “I want to complain about that waitress. I heard her interrogating that poor woman about her personal medical issues! I’m a doctor and I know you can’t just ask people about things like that! It’s against the law! She could sue you!”

Me: *to the other customer* “Excuse me, before things get out of hand here, I’m the person she’s talking about. First of all, our waitress asked if I had an allergy to milk. It was a good question considering I made a point of asking if some of your foods have milk in it. If I was really allergic, the kitchen would have to take extra precautions to avoid anaphylaxis. Secondly, there’s no such law that I know of unless you’re talking about the laws in place to protect your private health information from being accessed by other people without your permission. I don’t see how those would apply in this case.”

Other Customer: “What the h*** are you talking about? What are you, some kind of lawyer, smarta**?”

My Friend: “No, ‘doctor,’ she’s some kind of nurse.”

(We all pulled out our hospital IDs. The “doctor” shut up after that. The manager thanked us for clearing things up and left, and our waitress gave us a free round of cheesecake with a free lactose-free muffin for me!)

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(My boyfriend and I are sitting in my room. I’ve been having a rough day, and go flop over onto my bed, face down while he’s working.)

Boyfriend: “I hate to be the bearer of more bad news…”

Me: *sighing* “What?”

Boyfriend: “You missed a belt loop.”

(I am on a date with my boyfriend. We are both huge geeks, and are talking about ‘Star Wars’.)

Boyfriend: “So, the Millennium Falcon is a YT-what class?”

(I remember I’m wearing a Millennium Falcon diagram T-Shirt, and instinctively look down at my chest. My boyfriend notices.)

Boyfriend: “Yep, totally looking at the ship stats.”

Me: *zips up jacket* “Nope! No Millennium Falcon for you!”

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(I frequently have bad menstruation pain, and am somewhat considering a hysterectomy. I am on webcam with a friend I’m in love with, and who loves me.)

Me: “So, I had a weird thought. A hysterectomy is basically like scooping the organs out, so I just thought of them being taken out with an ice cream scoop.”

Him: “I don’t know, I think it’d be more like gutting a pumpkin.”

Me: “So, I’m a pumpkin now?”

Him: “No!”

Me: “Women in general are pumpkins?”

Him: “Yes.”

Me: “I’m just not a pumpkin because you like me?”

Him: “Exactly, I wouldn’t carve you.”

(After seeing ‘Les Miserables’, two weeks later the music is still in our heads driving us crazy. One evening my mom starts humming the first line of ‘Masters of the House’.)

Mom: “Fa la la la la…”

(Noticing our death glare reactions, she finishes.)

Mom: “…la la, la, la.” <*to the tune of ‘Deck the Halls’. It's July.)

Dad: “Nice try.”