(We’re driving around Achill Island, off the coast of Mayo in Ireland, on a family holiday. People start coming out of Mass from a local church.)

Dad: “Look, kids! Those are island people. Don’t they look different?”

(I am a HUGE Potterhead. My mom is highly religious and thinks that anything to do with “witchery” is evil.)

Mom: “Honey, is this your necklace?” *holds out locket*

Me: *gasps* “Slytherin’s locket!”

(I grab a butter knife, or “Gryffindor’s sword,” and stab the necklace repeatedly.)

Mom: “Uhm…”

Me: “Two more Horcruxes to go. Woo! LETS GO KILL VOLDEMORT!”

(My mom just stared in silent horror.)

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(My parents have just gone grocery shopping and my mom buys me Pirate’s Booty. It’s an organic- and gluten-free Cheeto like snack that’s flavored with aged white cheddar. I think it tastes awesome, but my sister thinks it tastes like flavorless Cheetos.)

Sister: “You just like it because of the name. It doesn’t even taste good.”

Me: “I happen to actually think it’s delicious and, besides, you like tuna and that’s disgusting.”

Sister: “Tuna’s human.”

Step Dad: “I think you are thinking of Soylent Green, sweetie.”

(I’m a self-published author and use my father for pre-reading since he doesn’t normally read my genre, but will read anything I write. We are watching various DVDs at the weekend. He speaks up during a certain scene in Harry Potter.)

Dad: *laughs as a scene with an animated paper bird comes up* “You’ll like this.”

Me: “What?”

Dad: “I was about to tell you about this really interesting piece of technology they had in a book I read recently where they have this special paper that the characters can write a message on it, and then it turns into a butterfly and vanishes off to find the person the message is for.”

Me: “You were about to recommend I read my own book?”

(My coworker has the day off, but she comes to our store anyway to do some shopping. She has brought a young boy with her.)

Me: “Oh, hey! How’s it going?”

Coworker: “Oh, not too much. Just taking the kid out for shopping.”

Me: “Well, that’s nice! So this is your son, eh?”

Coworker: “Actually, he’s my grandson.”

(Although my coworker is an older woman, she doesn’t actually look that old. At the very least, she doesn’t look old enough to have grandchildren.)

Me: “Well, you sure fooled me! You look a lot younger!”

Coworker: “No, I am that much younger. My son is just an idiot.”

(Thanks to her brutal honesty, I am nearly dying of laughter.)

Coworker: “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love my grandson. Of course I love my son too, but sometimes he can be such a moron.”