(I am broke, living with my broke friends. We won some tickets to an event in another city, and a well-off relative of mine is paying for a hotel stay for me, but he has asked for my friends to contribute their fair share back. This is easily agreed upon by everyone involved, with an invoice/contract for fairness’s sake. But, naturally, it can’t be that easy. [Friend #1] pays her share right away, [Friend #2] is paying in a couple of paychecks from now, and [Friend #3] is turning into trouble. [Friend #3] is the only one of us with a full-time job, and she is only living with us because she is fighting with her boyfriend. This takes place a few months after the event.)

Friend #3: “It’s no big deal; I’ll pay at the next paycheck.”

Me: “Okay, [Relative] is getting really impatient. You promised you’d pay him last month.”

Friend #3: *scoff and rolls eyes* “Well, I had expenses! The next check is Friday.”

(What she had was a fancy manicure, several new foreign comic books, two new video games, and five character plushies.)

Me: “Then, we’ll meet with him on Monday. Be ready so we can make it quick.”

(Over the weekend, [Friend #3] brags about her new anime plushies — which she bought on Saturday — has an entirely different manicure with acrylic nails and glitter-glaze, and has some new mid-range designer clothes, and her room REEKS of reefer. On Monday, [Friend #3] refuses to come to visit my relative.)

Friend #3: *shrugs and clicks her fake fingernails together idly* “I don’t have the money. I had bills to pay, so he can wait.”

(I’m pissed at this point, because my friend’s debt is causing tension in my relationship with the one relative who ever so much as tried being kind to me after I came out. I don’t reply; I just walk to [Friend #3]’s room and grab the nearest shopping bag of brand-name consumerist garbage, still new with tags. I check what’s in the bag to find four $60 figurines of popular anime characters.)

Me: *fake smile* “I’m sure this’ll be enough. I’ll just return these for you since you need to pay back your debts and you didn’t need to buy anime character figurines.”

([Friend #3] sputters and grunts; she can’t even come up with an argument. She follows me as I load the bag into my car. Just as I sit in the driver’s seat, she gets into the car.)

Friend #3: *dejected and quiet* “Take me to [Bank], please.”

(She got out the right amount of cash, so I let her have her stuff back and took her home. I brought the cash to the relative alone to avoid drama, but then he was upset with me because I couldn’t convince him that it was her money. He still thinks I covered for her. [Friend #3] helped herself to literally all the food in the house as revenge and gave it to her boyfriend, who she moved back in with. The rest of us were forced to go hungry for the next two weeks.)

(I work with my dad fixing garage doors. A lady calls us asking us for a quote. We go to her house to check out the job.)

Customer: “So, you can fix my garage?”

Dad: “Yeah, but it’ll be [sum].”

Customer: “That’s crazy! You fixed my neighbor’s garage for [smaller sum]; why can’t you do that for me?”

Dad: “Because your springs are broken and require a whole new bar, plus a strap. Your neighbor only needed a strap.”

Customer: “F****** Mexicans!”

(The customer proceeds to go on racist rant and my dad is just really calm. I am about to go off on her, but my dad just gives me a look and I stay quiet.)

Dad: “Well, if you want to call someone else to fix it, go ahead, but keep in mind that if you call me back here it’s doubled the price because I have to waste gas.”

(She huffs and goes inside, and my dad and I go home. I ask why he didn’t go off on her.)

Dad: “Just wait; this happens all the time.”

(Guess who called a few minutes later? We charged her double the sum and a little more from her rudeness.)

(I’m the jerk in this one. When I am 13 and my sister is about 11, we decide to play catch. It’s worth noting that she isn’t new to this, just having a bad start. She makes another bad throw.)

Me: “Hey, what happened to ‘hitting me in the chest’?”

(Coaches tell you to throw to the person’s chest, where their glove is supposed to be.)

Sister: “Sorry.”

(I throw it back. She makes another bad throw, this one going way above my head. I get a bit snarky.)

Me: “Human anatomy according to [Sister’s Full Name].” *pointing out body parts* “Arm, hand, fingers, leg…” *points to the sky* “…chest, apparently.”

Sister: *laughing* “Shut up!”

(After that, whenever her throws are off, I point to wherever the ball landed and say, “Chest?” She laughs for a bit, then starts to get upset. Her throws improve eventually, but I don’t let up. And then:)

Sister: “Hey, [My Name], look!” *points behind me*

(I, like a fool, make the classic blunder and turn around.)

Me: “Where?”

(My sister LOBS the ball at full force into my back, knocking me onto the ground hard.)

Sister: “Chest!”

(I left her alone for the rest of the day.)

(This story happened to my father in the 70s, before cellphones and Internet. While going to university, he lived with three roommates; the first two were fairly regular guys, but the third one, well… He was a weird, eccentric guy, and a bit of an idiot. One night, my father and the weird roommate are the only ones at the apartment. My father comes out of his room to go to the kitchen and sees that the roommate is on the phone.)

Roommate: “Hi, can I speak to [Name]?” *pause* “A wrong number? Didn’t I call [Number]?”

(My father thinks nothing of it and goes back to his room. A few minutes later, he hears guitar playing and singing, so he goes to investigate. He comes out of his room and sees his roommate sitting on a bench, playing guitar, and singing with the phone lying on the counter, pointing towards him. Then, after two or three minutes of this, the roommate picks up the phone and talks a bit with the person on the other side, wishes them farewell, and hangs up.)

Father: “What was that all about? Why the heck were you playing guitar on a phone call?”

Roommate: “Oh, yeah! Funny story. I dialed the wrong number, and then I chatted a bit with the girl who answered the phone. We’re about the same age, and I asked her if she knew [Artist], and then I offered to sing one of their songs.”

Father: *incredulous* “And she said yes?”

Roommate: “Yes, of course! So, I sang to her, and she said she liked it.”

(My father starts thinking, “I can’t believe he actually found someone as crazy as himself!”)

Father: “So, when will you see her?”

Roommate: “What do you mean?”

Father: “Dude, if she lets you sing to her after you called a wrong number, surely she’s interested in you. Didn’t you ask for her number?”

Roommate: “Oh, I didn’t think about that.”

(And that’s how that weird roommate finally realized that he had managed to charm a complete stranger on a wrong phone number call, and ultimately screwed it up because he was so oblivious.)

(Our little neighbor boy comes over for a visit, and we are watching a documentary.)

Narrator: “The kiwi has been caught and…”

Me: “Is that a pigeon?”

Nana: “No, it’s a kiwi.”

Me: “No, it’s a pigeon.”

Neighbor Boy: “What are they doing to it?”

Nana: “They’re putting a tracker on the kipigeon.”