(I am visiting my grandparents, and all three of us are sitting down and talking about other family members. My grandma has just finished telling me about an incident that a cousin was involved in when she says this:)

Grandma: “I’m glad you and your sister were never troublemakers.”

Grandpa: *laughs* “Unlike [My Father].”

Me: *confused, as my dad is very mild-mannered* “Dad used to get into trouble?”

Grandma: “Oh, not intentionally. He was just always very…”

Grandpa: “Oblivious?”

Grandma: *nods* “Right. Like that time he was almost arrested for burglary.”

Me: *shocked* “How did he manage that?!”

Grandma: “Well, he used to walk down to the laundromat to do his laundry. But rather than taking the long route he would climb over walls and through people’s backyards.”

Grandpa: “So, eventually, someone notices a young guy running through yards carrying a bulging sack over his shoulder. They called the police and he was almost arrested, until they looked in the bag and saw only dirty clothes.”

Me: “Knowing him, I can see all of this happening.”

(My mom and I are discussing a cousin who lives in different state. She has been hospitalized and is losing blood due to problems with her uterus.)

Mom: “I just don’t understand why the doctors refuse to just remove it. She doesn’t intend to have any more children, and this thing is threatening her life. I had to argue for them to remove mine when I started having issues, and I was almost fifty with two adult kids already!”

Me: “Mom, let me tell you: doctors maintain this idea that a woman’s main purpose in life is to have children. They think that removing her uterus is equal to cutting off both legs. They view it as the last, most desperate act they can take. It’s ridiculous, outdated, and flawed, but it’s the sad truth.”

Sister: *who has been listening* “That actually explains a lot.”

(I’m about 16, and regularly chatting with a high school friend through an instant messenger. He logs on one day and this is the first thing he writes. It should be noted that Spanish is a common second language where I live, but I do not speak or understand it at all.)

Friend: “Mi perro es muerto.”

Me: “C’mon, man, you know I don’t speak Spanish. And I don’t feel like having to run this conversation through a translator, so can you use English?”

Friend: “My dog is dead.”

Me: *feeling suddenly guilty and somewhat ashamed* “Well… s***.”

(Thankfully, it didn’t ruin the friendship.)

(My classmates and I are about ten or eleven years old. Our band teacher is absent for the day, so we have a substitute, a young guy somewhere in his twenties. The classroom has a TV and DVD player that the teacher uses to show us music performances. The sub offers to let us vote on a movie to watch, which he brought with him. The majority chooses “There’s Something About Mary,” a film I hadn’t even heard of. Being naive and rather innocent, all of the adult and raunchy humor flies right over my head, leaving me mostly confused. At the end of the day I go my mom’s office; she works at the school.)

Mom: *working at the computer* “So, did anything interesting happen today?”

Me: “Not really. We got to watch a movie in band, since the teacher was sick.”

Mom: “Oh? What did you watch?”

Me: “It was weird; its name was something about Mary.”

Mom: *pauses in her work and turns to look at me* “There’s Something About Mary?”

Me: “Yeah, that sounds right. I didn’t get what was happening, but the other boys thought it was funny.”

Mom: *fuming* “Do you know the substitute’s name?”

Me: *feeling her anger, and getting nervous* “Uh, no. I don’t remember his name. He was young, long hair, glasses…”

(She stood up and stormed out of the room, directly to the principal’s office. Apparently, I got the guy fired and banned from being hired by the district as a sub. Even today, I feel kind of bad for costing the guy his job. I swear, I was not intentionally tattling!)

(I am a customer. As I am walking into my local store, I notice a giant, hand-written sign on their door, all highlighted. Apparently, the card readers on their pumps are down, customers need to prepay inside, and they are sorry for the inconvenience. There are also notices on all the pumps. I am in line when I hear this exchange:)

Customer: *to cashier* “Are your pumps broken, or what?!”

Cashier: “No, sir. They just can’t take payments at the moment. I’ll be glad to prepay for your gas here.”

Customer: “Ugh, fine. You really should put signs up, though.”

Me: *chortles to myself*

Customer: “What?!”

Me: “Um, there’s a huge sign on the door saying that.”

Customer: “Nobody reads those! There should be signs on the pumps!”

Me: “Sir, I didn’t even buy gas and I noticed the signs on the pumps.”

Customer: “Shut up.” *followed by the evil-eye and silence*

(I don’t know how the staff can keep it together like they do and keep from slapping the stupid out of people.)