(My friend is nearsighted and loses her glasses on a week-long camping trip. As we are heading home, I stop by a fast food place to get us some real food for the first time in a week. We are both beyond tired. My almost-blind friend steps up to the counter to order.)

Friend: *staring intently at the menu* “I’ll have the eleven-piece meal.”

Employee: “Do you mean the number eleven, ten-count nugget?”

Friend: *confused* “No, no. It says eleven, right?”

(The conversation continues for a few minutes in the same thread as my friend tries to figure out what she is ordering. Eventually, she comes and sits down with me at the table and opens her nugget box. After eating she turns to me.)

Friend: “You know, I think she ended up putting eleven nuggets in my box, anyway.”

(Thank you for putting up with her, kind stranger!)

(I work in a storage warehouse, using large heavy-lifting trucks, and unfortunately, accidents do happen. One of my coworkers ended up in one such accident a few years back, which ended up costing him one toe and damaging the rest. One day at work, I hear this gem between him and one of our newer, less bright coworkers:)

Injured Coworker: “…so after the accident, I didn’t even notice something was wrong; I just noticed my foot was bleeding, so I walked into the office to tell [Boss].”

Coworker: “So, you walked in with one foot busted up?”

Injured Coworker: “Yeah, it didn’t even hurt, until I heard the other guys yell, ‘Hey, get some ice! This guy’s toe is still here!’”

Coworker: “But, you said you don’t have a toe! This was years ago! Hasn’t it, like, grown back?”

(After that comment, we were all snickering but his answer made us all just break into laughter:)

Injured Coworker: “[Coworker], do I look like a lizard to you?!”

(I work in production for an extremely popular radio station; however, I occasionally fill in different roles when people are sick. On this particular day, I work production on the breakfast show, then answer phone calls at reception. This call comes through on the complaints line.)

Me: “Good morning. You’ve reached [Radio Station]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes. I would like to put in a complaint.”

Me: “Sorry to hear that, sir. What would you like to complain about?”

Customer: “I was listening to your breakfast show, and I am horrified by the language you use at that time of morning!”

(I’m confused, because I listened to the entire show while producing.)

Me: “May I ask what was said?”

Customer: “’Breasts.’”

Me: “I’m sorry, what?”

Customer: “Your announcers were talking about some disease and they said it… AT 7:30 IN THE MORNING!”

Me: “Sir, the disease they were talking about was breast cancer.”

Customer: “I don’t care what they were talking about! It shouldn’t be said on-air.”

Me: “’Breast’ is the biological term for that area of the body.”

Customer: “Stop making excuses!”

Me: “Well, what would you prefer they be called?”

(The customer thinks for a moment.)

Customer: “Boobies.”

(I laughed so hard I had to hang up on him.)

(I’m at a music summer camp. While leaving one of the nightly concerts, I see a girl, who I recognize as a French horn player from my orchestra program, on the ground, and a staff member next to her. I quickly realize that she is injured. As I’m walking over to ask if she’s okay, I hear her listing where she’s hurt.)

Girl: “Both knees… uhh… oh! And my elbow.”

(The staff member next to her shines her phone’s flashlight around, and I see that her knees are both scraped and bleeding. I don’t see her elbow.)

Me: *reaching her* “Hey, are you okay?”

Girl: “Ah, yeah! …Probably.”

(Seeing my discomfort with that answer, she proceeds to wiggle her fingers and put weight on her left hand, then looks back up at me.)

Girl: “Oh, yeah, I can still play.”

(Note that she didn’t check her knees at all or mention how she was, outside of playing horn. Well, good to know she had her priorities straight.)

(My mom is suffering from a terrible cold. We’re both in the kitchen. She goes to get a cup of water and is very careful to only touch the cup she’s going to use.)

Mom: “I don’t want to touch anything I don’t have to. I’m afraid I’m infecting everything I touch.”

Me: *laughs*

Mom: “What?”

Me: “I was just imagining two viruses re-enacting that scene from The Lion King. ‘Look, Simba. Everything that woman touches is our kingdom.’”

Mom: “You are one strange cookie.”