Me: “Hey, can I hitch a ride with you?”

Friends: *teasingly* “I’m not a taxi!”

Me: “I know. I’m not paying you, am I?”

(I’m at a friend’s birthday, and we’re playing board games. In the middle of a game, the host gets a phone call and steps outside. He doesn’t return for several minutes, and the rest of the group starts to get impatient. Meanwhile, his girlfriend has also left the room to check on the food.)

Friend #1: *loudly* “Hey, [Host]! It’s your turn!”

(There’s no reaction, and we can hear that Host is still talking to someone on the phone.)

Friend #2: *even louder, with an evil smirk* “Hey, [Host]! Hurry up, the prostitutes are here!”

Friend #3: “Wouldn’t it be funny if that made [Girlfriend] appear instead?”

(Right on cue, his girlfriend enters the room, grinning broadly. She points back to the corridor where her boyfriend is still on the phone.)

Girlfriend: “Shout louder. His mom can’t hear you.”

Me: “Hey! This is [Name]. She’s the one I was telling you about.”

Friend: “Oh, the schizo who was just released from prison!”

(We all stare at her, confused.)

Me: “Umm, no. The one who’s studying to become a barrister.”

Friend: “Oh, of course. Hi!”

(I literally have no idea where this other one came from, and quite frankly I don’t want to know!)

(I’m attending a fairly typical pot-luck supper in the rural Midwest. The tables are groaning under loads of Italian beef, barbecued chicken, sausage and peppers, cole slaw, potato salad, macaroni and cheese, Frito salad, five-cup salad, deviled eggs, and half a dozen different desserts.)

1st Guest: *after polishing off his first plateful* “You know, I’m trying to eat healthy, but somebody brought Scotcheroos.”

2nd Guest: “Well, they have rice; that’s a grain.”

3rd Guest: “And peanut butter’s a protein.”

2nd Guest: “Chocolate comes from beans, and beans are a vegetable.”

1st Guest: “Works for me!”

(I have been DJing weddings and all kinds of events for many years and am vigilant about the content of the music and my audience. A lady approaches my table early on at a wedding after I had played the song “Brown Eyed Girl” By Van Morrison.)

Guest: *angrily* “This song is inappropriate.”

Me: “I’m sorry if you think so but I’ve played this song for years and never had a complaint.”

Guest: “The line ‘making love in green grass’ is not appropriate for children.”

Me: “I do apologize, ma’am.”

(The rest of the night I ended up playing quite a lot of top-40 music with much worse content but “Brown Eyed Girl” was the one that was inappropriate.)