(I am talking to Mum about a movie.)
Me: “It’s quite an old movie, isn’t it?”
Mum: “Yeah, it came out in 1992.”
Me: “I came out in 1992.”
Mum: “So that makes you really old, too.”
Me: “If I’m really old, WHAT DOES THAT MAKE YOU?”
Mum: *flees mock sobbing all the way*
(I am browsing through my junk mail folder, which I do from time to time. My husband is in the same room playing video games. It is important to note that my email address is my first name and last name separated by a period, and I am most definitely female.)
Me: “So, apparently I can grow my manhood by two to four inches permanently.”
Husband: “You know, I’m not sure that product is for you. It might be perfect for other people, but really, I don’t think you need it.”
Me: “Yeah, I guess.” *excitedly* “Oh, hey, some nice lady named Hannah thinks I’m a mighty man!”
Husband: “I think Hannah might have misread your name.”
Me: “She wants to know how I’m doing!”
Husband: “Well, that’s nice…”
Me: “Oh, also, apparently my man-parts are fed up with sex…”
Husband: “Well, if it doesn’t want sex, then what’s the point of having it?”
Me: “That’s okay, there’s some local girls looking for booty calls in my area. Maybe one of them can help.”
Husband: “Seems legit…”
(I am about 6 years old, and just starting to get a handle on the ‘birds and the bees’. My mother has just told me to go clean my room.)
Me: “I don’t want to clean my room.”
Mom: “I know, sweety. But, it’s a rule.”
Me: “When do I get to make the rules?”
Mom: “When you are a mommy.”
Me: *thinks for a moment* “But, mommy, I’m a boy. I wont’ ever be a mommy. I’ll be a daddy.”
Mom: “Well, in that case, I guess you don’t ever get to make the rules. Now, go clean your room.”
(My sister and her boyfriend are sitting together on the couch. My sister is in a silly mood. She’s been jokingly roughhousing with him for a while, and has progressed to using his phone to take silly pictures of herself. Her latest one is a rather creepy shot of her face lit up by the flash, focusing on her forehead.)
Sister: *laughing hysterically at her masterpiece* “Oh, I’m a keeper!”
Boyfriend: “Yeah, in the basement!”
(It’s Valentine’s Day. I come downstairs to see my boyfriend has placed a small box on our table. He often gives me jewellery as gifts, so I assume there’s jewellery in the box.)
Boyfriend: “Happy Valentine’s, baby. Go ahead, open it!”
(I reach out and grab the box. When I lift it, a much larger gift bag comes flying out from around the table. I soon realize it is attached to the smaller box with a string, and picking up the small gift pulled the larger one into view.)
Boyfriend: “Ha! Bait-and-switch!”
(We both erupt into hysterical laughter.)
