How To Rattle Your Teacher

, , , , , | Learning | December 12, 2013

(A group of us are renting out a nature center to do an unrelated overnight retreat. It is the morning and we are eating breakfast. The wildlife experts start coming in, bringing some animals with them.)

Snake Owner: “Hey. This snake isn’t poisonous. Any of you want to hold it?”

Me: “Ooh! I do! I do!”

Snake Owner: “Cool. I need to run back to my car. Just hold on to it for a sec, will you?”

(The snake owner runs off to his car. In the meantime, the snake is slithering around in my hoodie, and eventually nestles in the hood. The teacher in charge of the retreat walks in.)

Teacher: “Hey, [My Name]. We need you to—”

(The snake rears up suddenly.)

Teacher: “AHHH! Oh, my God. Don’t move! There’s a snake in your sweater!”

(I decide to make the best of it. I turn to look at my classmate.)

Me: “No! No! My lord! You promised if I retrieved the Horcrux, I could go free! Please!”

Classmate: *completely seriously* “Lord Voldemort has no mercy on Mudbloods. Nagini, STRIKE!”

Me: “Noooooooo!”

(I fell over as dramatically as possible without hurting the snake. The wildlife man came back in to find me on the floor, the teacher screaming, and my classmates dying of laughter.)


This story is part of our Snakes roundup!

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The Best And Worst Idea To Date

, , , , , | Related | December 9, 2013

(I am out with my two young sons when I run into a friend. We get on the topic of him taking a girl out on a first date in New York City.)

Friend: “I was thinking of taking her on a buggy ride in Central Park, followed by a romantic dinner, and then a Broadway musical.”

Me: “Ooh, nice.”

(My six-year-old son decides to interject.)

Son: “Excuse me. Can I say something?”

Me: “No. Go play with your brother.”

Friend: “That’s okay. Let’s hear it.”

Me: “You will regret this.”

Friend: “Let the kid talk.”

Son: “Uhm, buggy ride? Are you crazy? It’s stinky and it’s bumpy. That girl will not like to eat dinner after a buggy ride.”

Friend: “Have you been on a buggy ride?”

Son: “Plenty of times. My brother loves it. But it’s the most disgusting thing in New York City. You see the horse’s butt the entire time. Stinky. And the ride is so bumpy you get a bellyache, and you wanna throw up.”

Friend: “So, I’ll skip the buggy ride, then?”

Son: “I’m not finished. Why don’t you have dinner first? Then, if your girl is being nice, take her to Broadway. If she’s not nice, then you take her to the buggy ride.”

Friend: “And the reason for the buggy ride is…?”

Son: “So she throws up! Weren’t you listening to my story? You need to learn how to listen.”

Friend: *to me* “What the h*** kind of things have you been teaching your kids?!”

Me: “I really don’t know…”


This story is part of our New York City roundup!

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How To Make Angry Birds

| Romantic | December 5, 2013

(We’re walking back to the car after a nice dinner.)

Me: “Hey there, lovebird. You’re a pretty bird! Does the pretty bird sing pretty songs?”

Girlfriend: “KAWWWWWWWWW!”

Me: “…nope.”

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The Couple That Slays Together, Stays Together, Part 18

| Romantic | December 3, 2013

(My boyfriend and I have the same odd sense of humour. In the first month of our relationship he says he wants to show me something.)

Me: “So, where are you taking me exactly?”

(My boyfriend takes my hand and leans into to whisper in my ear.)

Boyfriend: “To where I hide the bodies.”

Me: “…so am I a victim or an accomplice?”

(A few months later, we’re driving out of the parkade attached to his apartment. It’s very creepy with flickering lights and plenty of places to hide.)

Me: “You know, this would make an ideal setting for a horror film. Imagine some scantily clad actress running around screaming. Then when she turns a corner, the ax murderer is standing right underneath one of those lights.”

(My boyfriend looks directly at me with wide eyes and a huge toothy grin as he steers around a sharp corner.)

Boyfriend: “It’s also a great place to hide a body.”

Me: “…I still don’t know whether I’m the victim or the accomplice here.”

 

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Driving In The Generation Gap

| Related | November 25, 2013

(I am about six years old. My grandma and I get out of the car and are walking into the mall. She’s closer to the sidewalk and I’m closer to the road.)

Me: “Grandma you need to switch sides with me. Mommy said I need to walk on the inside so I don’t get hit by a car.”

Grandma: “But what if Grandma gets hit by a car?”

Me: “That’s okay. You’ve already had kids!”

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