Basically, my mom wishes I were a lesbian.

Part of it comes from her suspecting I’m a lesbian because of ONE isolated incident. In high school, my bestie and I were attached at the hip. One day, we went to the beach and then had to go somewhere after that. We stopped back at my house and WITH OUR BATHING SUITS ON took a shower together.

My parents came home during the shower and decided I was gay, despite me only having boyfriends before/after that.

She’s also desperate to show her other friends how “open-minded” and “cool” she is, by ALWAYS and frequently telling me she’ll still love me if I go gay and that there’s nothing wrong with that, which we all agree on, but she does have a habit of saying it in front of her friends a lot.

Anyhoo, it’s the night before my parents’ legendary annual party, and we’re making mushrooms stuffed with sausages. She’s explaining:

Mom: “You can either push the meat out of the ‘skin’ on the sausage link, or you can slit the skin and pull it out that way.”

Me: “I prefer a slit.”

Mom: “I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU WERE A LESBIAN!”

This resulted in my grandparents and aunts walking into the kitchen at the exact moment I yelled back to my mom:

Me: “I LIKE D*CK, I LIKE D*CK!”

My son is eleven, as is his best friend. We’re at a neighborhood block party, and I overhear them having a conversation over ice cream:

Son: “Can I ask you a question?”

Friend: “You just did.”

Son: “Can I ask you another one?”

Friend: “You just did that, too.”

Son: “Well, can I ask you two more?”

Friend: “No.”

Son: “Why not?”

Friend: “I just told you that you couldn’t ask two more, and that was the second one! Don’t you listen?”

Son: “What?”

Friend: “And there’s question number three! What’s wrong with you? No means NO!”

Son: “Never mind.”

Friend: “See? You should have started with that and saved us both a lot of time.”

I love that my weirdo son found his weirdo bestie.

Our management team gives us raises and bonuses, so that’s great, but they do ALSO give us the occasional pizza party. Since said pizza parties are not replacements for raises and bonuses, we all enjoy them, apart from one guy.

This one coworker scans the nine pizzas my manager brought into the office and says:

Coworker: “Why is there only one vegan pizza?”

Manager: “Well, you’re the only vegan.”

Coworker: “Yes, but why is there only one vegan pizza? Everyone else in the office gets multiple pizza options, and I only get one?”

Manager: “Actually, this pizza is half one flavor, half another, so you still get two options.”

Coworker: “No. To keep it fair, half the pizzas need to be vegan. Anything less is discrimination.”

Manager: “There are thirty people here, and you’re the only vegan, but half the pizzas need to be vegan?”

Coworker: “Anything less is discrimination. I’ll go to HR if this happens again.”

The following Monday, there was a memo sent around to the whole office that pizza parties were cancelled for the foreseeable future due to “accommodation technicalities”. Everyone knew what that meant, and everyone was majorly p***ed at the vegan coworker.

My other coworker (a friend) was so angry that he decided he was going to throw his own pizza party, paid for by himself, so he didn’t have to cater to any office rules. That Friday, he brought in ten pizzas, half meat, half vegetarian, but all made with real cheese.

The vegan coworker came by and saw all the pizzas and everyone enjoying them. He grabbed a plate and started to hover around the options. As soon as he realized that there was nothing for him, he went to the manager to complain.

Manager: “[Friend] did this on his own for his own reasons. It has nothing to do with the company, and there’s nothing I can do.”

For a few months after that, every coworker who had a special event (mostly birthdays) celebrated with a pizza party in the office. Never was a vegan pizza ever ordered. Every time this happened, the vegan coworker looked angrier than a mosquito in a mannequin factory.

Related:
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 12
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 11
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 10
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 9
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 8

At age eleven, a friend changes schools (without moving house), but we stay in touch for about a year after that and attend each other’s twelfth birthdays.

I know she is very into Pokémon, so for her birthday, I got her a pack of the cards. None of the other gifts she opens are Pokémon-related, so I start to worry she has lost interest in it. I am reassured when she gets very excited upon opening the gift from me, and further reassured when the cake comes out, and I see a picture of a Pokémon on it.

All three of the other guests are from [Friend]’s new school. I had never met any of them before and, to my knowledge, have never met them again. After the cake, [Friend] briefly leaves the room. Two of the guests are speaking between themselves. I am abruptly confronted by the third.

Party Guest: “Why did you get [Friend] Pokémon cards? [Name #1], [Name #2], and I all agreed not to give her Pokémon stuff. We’re trying to help her get over her obsession.”

Me: *Confused.* “I just got her something I thought she would like.”

[Party Guest] just looks at me for a moment, then walks away. In retrospect, I wish I had told [Friend] – or maybe [Friend]’s parents – about that conversation, instead of assuming her new friends were ‘well-meaning but misguided’ rather than bullies.

We’re in the kitchen of my parents’ large house in the country for a big family gathering (my dad’s 60^th). In all the food prep, my brother is carrying a large jug of baked beans, slips on something that had fallen to the ground earlier, and spills the contents all over himself and the floor.

Dad: *Absolutely immediately.* “No one tell [Brother] any of your secrets!”

We all laughed so hard that the clean-up was worth it.