(I work at an amusement park at three different rides: a bungee-jumping-type ride with an extremely high drop, a rollercoaster, and a chair swing ride that’s very popular with smaller kids. I’m at the bungee jump ride when two teenage boys get off.)

Coworker: “Did you have fun?”

Boy #1: “That was so pathetic!”

Boy #2: “I know, right?! They need to make the drop like, three hundred feet taller for me to be scared.”

Boy #1: “The rides here really aren’t that thrilling at all. Maybe I’m just too hard to scare.”

(Later on, I move to the chair swing ride and notice the same two boys lining up. They’re talking quietly to each other but I can still hear their conversation.)

Boy #1: “I dunno. This looks really intense.”

Boy #2: “Look how high it goes!”

Boy #1: “Come on, we can do this.”

(I had to fight the urge to remind them of their previous feedback at the bungee jumping ride.)

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Like most restaurants, we accept reservations. I overhear in the kitchen that a group — or family — of six wants to make a reservation. Not a problem. Shortly after, the server dealing with the reservation comes into the kitchen and says, “They made a reservation for six, but brought a kid along, making the reservation for seven. They thought it wouldn’t be a problem, and that we could make room for him.”

I just shake my head and laugh, because in what universe does that make sense?

(I have Asperger’s syndrome, which is a form of autism. When I was a kid in the 90s, both were not very well understood. One of the aspects of Asperger’s is that those with it tend to focus exclusively on their interests and likes, such as video games. It’s getting close to Halloween, and while watching TV I see several commercials for M&Ms. I know what I want to be that year.)

Me: “Mom, I know what I want to be for Halloween!”

Mom: “What do you want to be?”

Me: “An M&M! The red one!”

(My mom is confused, as my favorite color is green. If I can get it in green, I get in in green. I am the kind of kid who only eats his breakfast in one specific bowl — the green one in my case.)

Mom: “Why do you want to be the red one? Wouldn’t you want to be the green one?”

Me: “I can’t be the green one. She’s a girl.”

Mom: “How can you tell?”

Me: *straight face* “She has eyelashes.”

(That was good enough for Mom, who was a little surprised the green one was a girl and made me a really awesome — red — M&M costume.)

(It is 1996 and I am ten years old. My friend and I are hanging out in my room. My dad has been gone for a long weekend with his friends on a trip riding dirt bikes. My dad gets home Monday evening and parks our motorhome in the driveway without any of us realizing he is home. He also manages to come inside without anyone hearing him. Getting to the kitchen where my mom is, he realizes that she still has not noticed his arrival. He walks up behind her and leans his head over her shoulder. Very quietly, my dad whispers one word into her ear.)

Dad: *quietly* “Boo.”

(My friend and I were able to hear my mom’s scream through the kitchen door and up the stairs.)

(I’m at a house party when a long-time acquaintance walks up. I’ve known him since I was 15, and he’s been wanting to have an inappropriate relationship with me. I’m in my mid-40s when this conversation takes place. He is wearing a lifting brace with the logo for Snap-On Tools on the back.)

Me: “Is your back bothering you?”

Acquaintance: “Yes.”

Me: “I hope your back will get better real soon.”

Acquaintance: “I’m the only guy here who can say I have a snap-on tool.”

Me: *in a really loud voice* “[Acquaintance]! I didn’t know it was that short!”

(He left the party shortly after that.)