(I’m in the ladies’ room at the staff Christmas party when I overhear the following as a coworker heads to a stall from the sinks:)

Coworker #1: “Oh hey, take your purse with you!”

Coworker #2: “Why? No one’s going to take it.”

Coworker #1: “You never know!”

Coworker #2: “You know what? If they want it they can have it. All that’s in there is five bucks and a tampon.”

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(It is the 1970s. I am five years old. My dad’s company throws a rather lavish Christmas party for all the employees. It is a manufacturing plant for the oil industry. The party is in one of the larger facilities they have and has a few indoor carnival rides, lots of 70s Christmas decor, and many, many families, some who are of diverse backgrounds and heritages, but who mostly are Caucasian, as are most if not all of the management. My family is Caucasian/white.)

Employee: “Hey, did you know we got a Santa Claus over here?”

Me: “Really?!”

Employee: “Sure thing!”

Me: *to my mom* “Can I go see Santa? Please?!”

Mom: “Yes, honey; you can go.”

(When I get there to line up for a toy, there is quite a surprise. There are TWO Santa Clauses; a white one and an African-American one! The African-American Santa looks about as confused as I am but seems really friendly and full of Christmas spirit. I also note that because most of the kids were white, they line up to sit on the white Santa’s lap. My logic was thus: African-American Santa looks lonely and he seems really nice, and because very few kids have lined up with him he still has a better assortment of toys left! My mind is made up. My mom hasn’t seen me for a while so she comes to look for me. To her genteel, racist horror, she sees her daughter happily sitting on ‘black Santa’s’ lap, smiling and enjoying talking to him. He is really sweet!)

Mom: “Oh… uh… Here you are.”

Me: “Hi, mom!”

Mom: “Well, come on then, honey. Time to go!”

(My mother offered a hurried thank you after I got to pick a toy (he really did have the best toys!) and ushered me away. I smiled and waved goodbye to the confused but kind man. To me, the color of his skin didn’t matter. All I saw was a nice, bored man with better toys than the other guy. To ‘black Santa,’ wherever you are, I’ll never forget how kind and sweet you were despite the rather racist overtones of the whole experience for you. I hope you had a great life!)

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(For some reason, people don’t always listen to me, which can get really annoying. This conversation took place at a friend’s Halloween party. We were talking about “Ghostbusters,” and a bunch of friends were trying to remember who had died recently:)

Friend #1: “It wasn’t Bill Murray. It was the other guy.”

Me: “Harold Ramis.”

Friend #2: “It wasn’t Dan Ackroyd, was it?”

Friend #3: “No, no. Not him.”

Me: “It was Harold Ramis.”

Friend #2: “I can’t remember his name. Wasn’t he in some other movies with Bill Murray?”

Me: “Argh! It was Harold Ramis!”

Friend #1: “I wish I could remember his name.”

Me: “HELLO? HELLO? IS ANYBODY LISTENING TO ME? IT. WAS. HAROLD. RAMIS!”

Friend #3: “I’m sure it will come to us eventually.”

Me: *out of sheer desperation, at the top of my lungs* “I AM GOOGLE!”

(Sudden silence falls over the group, and they all look at me.)

Me: “Finally! It was Harold Ramis.”

Everyone Else: “Ah! That’s who it was.”

Me: *face-palm*

(I am at a bar mitzvah and I have recently given my five-year-old cousin my camera to go take pictures of people. After reviewing them the next day, we find they are all hilarious due to her camera angle and inability to take the picture when she says she is. Everyone looks funny in almost every picture. I am 19.)

Me: “I am going to show you these pictures in 20 years and you are going to find them hilarious.”

(My cousin looks at me with big, innocent eyes.)

Cousin: “I really hope you’re alive in 20 years…”

Me: “Me, too, dear. Me, too…”

(I am sitting with a group of friends at a student party. Our student society has some weird ‘traditions’ at gatherings like these. One of them applies to a person holding a speech, where the audience will yell out ‘take off your pants!’ if it is a boy and ‘show your t**s!’ if it is a girl. A boy walks up and gets ready to hold a speech.)

Audience: “Take off your pants!”

Friend: “Take off your t**s! … er, wait, I mean…”