(As I man the cut table, the boss and the manager are making pizza and chatting.)

Boss: “I’ve heard it called the Deluxe, the Supreme, and the Garbage pizza, but after fourteen years in the business, this is the first time I’ve ever heard of it referred to as an Absolute Pizza.”

Me: “Does that mean it has the same value whether it’s negative or positive?”

Boss: “Definitely.”

Manager: “Look, I love bad math jokes more than most, but that one’s not worth a response.”

Me: “So, I could go to a customer and demand they pay up their negative Absolute Pizza? ‘Thanks for ordering; that’ll be $24.99, and you now owe me a pizza.'”

Manager: *glaring at boss* “You. YOU DID THIS.”

(One of our regular customers is a magician, and tends to have various novelty items.)

Me: *to a coworker* “Hey, check out what [Customer] just gave me.”

(I hand him what appears to be a one-inch, handmade wooden stool inside a plastic medicine vial.)

Coworker: “What the h*** is that?”

Me: “A ‘stool sample.'”

Coworker: *groans*

(We are all talking before the start of class when the following exchange occurs.)

Classmate #1: “Here’s a good one. ‘So, a man comes into a bar—’ Wait; it was a horse. Let me start over. ‘So, a man comes into a horse…’”

(Entire class groans while the professor gives him a look.)

Classmate #2: “You know, that’s actually legal in some states.”

Professor: *long pause* “Get out.”

(My husband and I are eating a dinner of steak and garden peas together. Midway through the meal, he throws a couple of peas at me.)

Husband: *giggles* “I just peed on you!”

(A few minutes later he picks up his soda, glancing seductively at me.)

Husband: “Maybe later I’ll ‘mount-and-do’ you.”

(I’m so glad I found someone who enjoys the same humor as I do.)

(My husband is a contractor for a rental company. He usually gets called to do repairs and repaint and whatnot between tenants. When he needs an extra set of hands, I usually offer to tag along and help out. This particular day, I’ve been watching him cut and replace the wooden trim on a door frame, and now he’s filling in the cracks with caulk, using his fingers and hands to get into the creases.)

Me: “Man, you are always playing with your caulk, aren’t you?!”

Husband: *smirking at me* “Got to make sure it’s smooth. Only way to do that is by rubbing my caulk with my hand.”

Me: “Looks messy. You’re going to get your caulk all over everything!”

Husband: “Good point. Maybe I should go back to playing with my wood.”

(We both start laughing. Then, the rental agent, whom my husband has been working with for nearly 15 years, calls.)

Agent: “[Husband]! That job done yet? I’m not paying you to stand around, yankin’ your noodle!”