(My mom is a member of a group of ladies from church who get together socially. One year one of them did a touring trip of Italy. Since my mom was hosting the get together, she asked me if I would help by making an Italian dessert.)

Mom: “So, I was thinking you could make an Italian dessert. You make the best Normandy Apple Tart.”

Me: “Okay. But I thought you wanted Italian.”

Mom: “I do.”

Me: “So you don’t want the Normandy Apple Tart?”

Mom: “Well, I thought it would be appropriate.”

Me: “You do know Normandy is in France, right?”

Mom: *blank face*

Me: “I’ll make a tiramisu.”

(My twin brother and I are in our room, playing video games, when our younger brother walks in.)

Younger brother: “Hey, what time is it?”

Twin brother: *without missing a beat* “A million o’clock.”

Younger brother: *also without missing a beat* “Crap! I’m late!”

(My fiancé and I are cuddling and horsing around on the couch in a completely non-intimate manner. It suddenly sounds like wood is splitting.)

Me: “I think we broke the couch.”

Fiancé: “It’s because we’re so full of hormonal energy… and cake.” *he pauses* “One of those is a lie.”

Me: “Probably the hormonal energy.”

Fiancé: “Yeah, especially since I had cake batter ice cream.”

Me: “And I had cake this morning.”

Fiancé: “That is so us.”

(I’m hanging out with my boyfriend and his friend. His friend is talking about a girl that he’s expressed interest in, and just told us that she is also pregnant.)

Friend: “I don’t know. I’d just feel weird. I don’t want to, like, stab it or something.”

Boyfriend: “Or get her ‘double pregnant’.”

Me: “… I don’t you think you guys know anything about women.”

(I’m sitting on the couch with the family dog, a five-pound Yorkshire terrier. My mom is sitting across from us in a chair. My dog is really picky about where she sits. We like to joke around that she tells us what she wants just by looking at us in a certain way. Right now, my dog is staring at me and scratching at a stack of pillows. I take one down for her.)

Mom: “She says that she liked the pillows stacked up like they were.”

(I move the pillow back. The dog still does nothing but stare at me.)

Mom: “With the quilt on top.”

(I move the quilt on top on the stack. My dog promptly jumps up on the pillows and settles down.)

Mom: “It’s kind of scary how I knew that.”