(I’m a 13-year-old female.)

Me: “Mom, I want my hair like this.”

(I show her a picture. It has a guy with short spiky hair, and a girl with long hair and blue streaks.)

Mom: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes!”

Mom: “Well, I’ll have to ask your dad first. That’s a pretty drastic change.”

(Later on…)

Dad: “So, mom showed me the picture. You want short spiky hair? Are you sure it’s not too short? You’ll have to wait for your hair to grow back.”

Me: “Did you not see the girl in the picture?”

Dad: “What! You want crazy hair? No way are you walking around like that. If you really want a guy’s short cut, that’s fine, but no crazy hair!”

(It’s March, on the Friday before daylight saving.)

Dad: “I hate that we lose an hour this weekend!”

Me: “Oh! It’s daylight saving already? Don’t you mean we gain an hour? You should be happy!”

Dad: “No, we lose an hour.”

Me: “No, we gain an hour! Remember, we lost an hour last time.”

Dad: “We gained an hour last time.”

Me: “No. Remember? Everyone was moaning about it. It’s spring forward, fall back.”

Dad: “Right! Spring forward, fall back. We lose an hour. It’s so exhausting! It messes up our sleep, and the cats don’t know when they should be fed.”

Me: “No, I’m positive we gain an hour. People do their moaning in the spring! You shouldn’t be annoyed. I’m happy now; our sleep will be better! Spring forward, fall back.”

(My dad is looking at me very strangely.)

Dad: “Let’s just wait for the weekend. Then we’ll see.”

(I go back to reading my book. After about 20 minutes, I check my phone to see what time it is. I see the date.)

Me: “Oh, my God! It’s March!”

Dad: “…yes?”

Me: “You were right! We do lose an hour! That sucks!”

Dad: “I told you.”

(There is a long pause.)

Me: “Although, if you consider that I was arguing from the point of view that it was apparently fall, we were both right!”

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(I’m at a bike rally with my uncle, who is a big, scary, biker guy. I’m a lesbian, and I’ve been trying to find a way to come out to him.)

Uncle: “Would you look at the rack on that one!”

Me: “What a waste.”

Uncle: “What do you mean?”

Me: “They’re too big.”

Uncle: “You are not my niece! There is no such thing as too much boob!”

Me: “Yes there is. You’re just a glutton.”

(A few days later…)

Uncle: “Were you trying to tell me something the other day?”

Me: “I’m gay?”

Uncle: “Well, you’re a lousy gay! There’s no such thing as too much boob!”

(My mother is teaching me how to drive.)

Mom: “So, what do you do if a cop behind you turns on its lights?”

Me: “Pull over!”

Mom: “Yes.”

Dad: “No! You gun it and make a run for it! A hard right, couple of sharp lefts.”

Mom: “No! Don’t teach her that!”

Dad: “Once you’re away, that’s when you switch to your backup license plates. Put on your disguise in case they find you again. And remember to dump the body ASAP.”

Mom: “Stop that!”

Me: “But what if I’m smuggling cocaine?”

Dad: “Dump the body!”

Mom: *face palm*

(I’m at the store with my aunt, who is stubborn about using newer technology. I only have a few items, so I’m using self checkout.)

Aunt: “What are you doing over here? I’ve already put my stuff on the belt at the next register!”

(This register has three other people in line, all with many items.)

Me: “It’s okay; I’ll probably be done before you are anyway.”

(I resume scanning my items, while my aunt watches. When I’m done, I give the machine a $20 bill. It instructs me to take my change. My aunt’s eyebrows shoot up to the top of her forehead as she gasps.)

Aunt: “It gives you your change?! So… it’s like a vending machine… for GROCERIES?!”

Me: “Uh… yeah. I suppose.”

(My aunt rushes back to her old register, which has barely moved. All the people are staring at her. She brings her items over to me.)

Aunt: “DO MINE NEXT! I WANT TO USE THE GROCERY VENDING MACHINE!”

Me: “…I can’t take you anywhere…”