My aunt & uncle, both doctors, moved to rural Kentucky when they sold their practice and retired.

Since medical care is spotty in their area my aunt volunteers to make home visits to check on patients as support for local physicians.

One female patient in particular had been told to rest after surgery; when my aunt arrives the patient is bustling around the house, contrary to doctor’s orders.

When it was mentioned that she was supposed to be off her feet; apparently she had misunderstood the doctors orders of not putting your feet on the ground, as she replied “But I haven’t been outside all day!”

(A customer comes into the fabric store where I am working the cash register. She is in an obviously upset state.)

Customer: “Do you carry sign-in registers for guests at funerals?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, we don’t carry those.”

Customer: “Oh, my gosh; I don’t know what I will do. I have tried everywhere and can’t find one.”

Me: “Well, have you tried the Hallmark store next door? They have all kinds of paper goods.”

Customer: “I thought I was at Hallmark’s.”

Me: *looking around at our 5000 bolts of fabrics and shelves of scissors and other sewing related items* “No, ma’am, this is [Store].”

Customer: “Well, why didn’t you say so? That’s just rude.”

(Every few months or so, our troop has to clean out and organize the trailer containing our camp supplies. Some poison ivy has started growing at the back of the trailer, but it’s out of the way.)

Friend: “I’m gonna try and clear out that poison ivy.”

Scoutmaster: “You don’t need to do that. It’s out of the way, and it’s best to have a professional deal with it.”

Me: “Yeah, and you don’t want to end up catching poison ivy… again!”

Friend: “I have gloves and clippers. I’m not gonna touch it.”

Scoutmaster: “That doesn’t matter. You can still catch it if it gets on your clothes.”

Friend: “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

(Whenever he gets his mind set on things like this, it’s almost impossible to try and talk him out of it.)

Me: *sigh* “Your funeral.”

(He managed to clear out the poison ivy, while I tried to stay away from him. After we’re back home, I noticed I’m starting to breakout. I called him up to yell at him only for his mother to inform me that he was far worse. He ended up missing school for a couple of days because it got all over his face, causing his eyes to swell shut.)

(I’m in line behind a customer who’s purchasing around $50 worth of stuff. He hands over a $50 bill to the cashier.)

Customer: “It’s all right; I just printed it this morning.”

(The cashier pauses as the customer smirks. She then picks up her counterfeit pen, and the smirk vanishes from the customer’s face as she draws a line across the bill which promptly turns black. There is a moment of silence as both of them stare at it.)

Cashier: “Yes, sir, it appears you did. Or someone did, at least. Do you possibly have another form of payment?”

(The customer started stammering excuses that he got the bill from another store, he had no idea it was fake, this was an outrage, etc. as he hands over his card and completes the transaction. Afterwards the cashier sends the now red-faced customer to the service desk to see if they can help him out in some manner. Probably not the most exciting story, but it’s the first time I’ve seen that old joke end with a new twist.)

(My friend and I are at an amusement park. We’re both hungry, so we decide to buy French fries from a restaurant the park is famous for. They offer malt vinegar in small packets, and my friend grabs a few.)

Friend: *opens packets of vinegar, then drinks all of them* “That was a really bad idea. I need water!”

(The park offers souvenir cups that are $1 to refill for the entire season.)

Friend: *returning* “The line was too long. And I don’t have a dollar. I’ll just suffer.”

Me: “Why the h*** would you drink malt vinegar in the first place?!”

Friend: “…shut up. I like the taste.”