Friend: “Hey, I have a question.”

Me: “Okay, what is it?”

Friend: “Since I moved here, you’re the only one who hasn’t asked me what country I’m from. Why is that?”

Me: “Because I hate it when people ask me where my accent is from. I don’t have an accent; I just talk funny. I figured it would annoy you.”

Friend: “Oh, it is so annoying. But you’re white.”

Me: “Yes. That I am.”

Friend: “Oh. You really do have an accent. I can’t unhear it now! Where did your parents come from?”

Me: “Nowhere. It’s not an accent and my parents don’t have it. I. Just. Talk. Funny.”

Friend: “No, it’s definitely an accent. What about your grandparents?”

Me: “[Friend], I hit my head when I was two. I got several stitches and a concussion.”

Friend: “So?”

Me: “And then how I spoke changed. Because I hit my head.”

Friend: “Oh. Hmm…”

Me: “…”

Friend: “Oh! Is it Canadian?”

(A church associate has decided for me that she will be driving me to and from an event at another church. It’s a terrifying two-hour drive there as I find out that she’s a terrible driver; the way back is not much better. We are approaching an exit from the motorway that is just five minutes from my house. I do not realise just how inflexible she is until that moment.)

Me: “If you take the next turn to the left, I can give you the directions to my house.”

Associate: “No, I can’t do that. I only know one way to your house and have to use that. If I go this way, I won’t know how to get back to my place.”

Me: “But you would go the same way you always go home from my house; it’s only five minutes to my house from here.”

Associate: *getting upset* “No, no, no! I would be so confused. I have to go the only way I know.”

(She drives past the exit, and I wonder if she’s going to take the next exit, but she also speeds past it. Twenty minutes later, we pull up at her house.)

Associate: “Now I can take you home; I only know the way to your house from my house.”

(Twenty-five minutes later, I was so glad to finally get myself out of that car.)

As maid of honor for my friend’s wedding, I agree to manage the RSVPs. It’s a smallish wedding, about 60 people, and they’ve decided not to invite any children. After the initial invitations go out, the groom’s father asks if he could give an invite to his cubicle-mate to try to improve their work camaraderie. The couple agrees. A few days later, I get the RSVP in the mail. It’s scribbled over, an angry note attached.

“Obviously, you have NO IDEA how to be polite for a wedding. FAMILIES are invited to weddings, INCLUDING CHILDREN. It’s rude to expect people to PAY a babysitter just for YOU. WE WILL ALL BE THERE. I hope your MARRIAGE is better than your INVITES.”

Attached were RSVPs for the couple, three children they had from various previous relationships, and two children they had as a couple. All were listed as wanting the prime rib, including the seven-month-old baby.

The couple and the groom’s family had a huge fight over this. The bride wanted to rescind the invite for the whole family, but the groom’s parents were worried about how it would affect the work conditions; after all, he had invited him to try to improve their relationship. In the end, the groom’s father agreed to pay for his coworker’s meals.

The day of the wedding, the groom’s father’s phone rings just before the ceremony. It’s his coworker, saying he will be late. The father quickly replies, then hangs up in time to see his son to the altar. The family ends up not showing to the ceremony, or the reception. It’s blatantly obvious as there are seven tables, with one completely empty.

When the father of the groom gets back to work, he confronts his coworker, who says he decided not to come because the father of the groom was “terse” on the phone. However, he does have a wedding gift. It’s a coffee maker, used and put back in the box, with old coffee grounds still in it.

Needless to say, the olive branch of the invite did not help the relationship between the father of the groom and his cubicle-mate.

At the time of this story, cell phones were only just booming; Bluetooth was incredibly rare, speaker mode was not a standard feature, and legislation concerning driving with a cell phone was virtually non-existent.

I was driving down the highway in my SUV to meet with some friends at a diner we like. Simultaneously, I was on the phone with my girlfriend. It was a warm spring day, so I had my windows rolled down. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a car that I believed was hugging the lane divider a little too closely. Wary this might be a scammer and given that my exit was still much further, I changed lanes to get away from him. I overshot it and wound up on a collision course with a second vehicle that was hiding in my blind spot, so I sharply turned the wheel the other way to correct it.

Big mistake.

The sudden jerk sent me rolling. I was wearing my seat belt, so all I did while rolling was appreciate my absolute stupidity. Thankfully, everyone stopped when they saw me flip, so I missed every other vehicle during my roll. I then started cursing when I noticed I dropped my phone, having not ended the call with my girlfriend, who thus no doubt heard every sound of the accident.

The moment the SUV stopped, I was out of my seat rummaging around the inside of the car. I had people getting out of their cars coming to check on me, and all I yelled was, “FIND MY PHONE! IT MIGHT HAVE FLOWN OUT THE WINDOW!”

Understandably, that confused everyone.

“I WAS TALKING TO MY GIRLFRIEND! I NEED TO TELL HER I’M NOT DEAD!”

Thankfully, it was under my seat. Once I had sent the message and calmed down, I realized the SUV had come to a stop right-side-up. The damage didn’t look like much since all the doors and hoods opened and closed normally, and the engine was still flawless. However, I later found out that due to the damage done to the frame, which required tearing apart to fix, it was considered totaled.

Even so, I drove down to meet my friends in my totaled SUV and recounted the whole story. The cherry on top came when we walked out and were assessing the damage. One of my friends yelled, in absolute seriousness, “YOU ROLLED IN A PARKING SPOT?!”

(My daughter and son are young, and we live in a house that has two very damp bedrooms. I find it best to put both kids in the third bedroom that doesn’t have a damp problem, as I am worried for their health; my eldest has asthma and the youngest has allergies. Some friends and I are discussing our houses. I mention the damp problem and what I have to do to stop the kids from getting sick.)

Friend: “You have a boy and girl sharing a room; that’s disgusting.”

Me: “What?”

Friend: “A boy and girl in the same room; it’s unnatural.”

Me: “What do you mean, ‘unnatural’?”

Friend: “What if they do something?”

Me: “Do what?”

Friend: “You know, do unnatural things together; it’s a temptation for them.”

Other Friend: “What the f***? They are three and six years old; what are they going to do?”

Friend: “It’s disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Me: “I don’t think so. I’m trying to keep both kids healthy until our lease is up and we can move.”

Friend: “It’s not right.”

(And with that, she walked off and never spoke to me again. Didn’t miss her one bit.)