My husband and I are relaxing at home, and he’s having a bowl of instant ramen. As he’s finishing the last of it, a small piece of noodle falls from his fork to the floor, escaping his notice.

Me: *In mock affront* “[Husband], how could you?”

Husband: “Wha?”

I point to the piece of noodle.

Me: “You’ve leaked noods!”

[Husband] looks down at the noodle and shrugs.

Husband: “Eh, at least they were my own!”

CONTENT WARNING: Severe Injury (Foot meets lawn mower)
 

In early June of 2022, I ended up having a small accident while mowing the lawn at work. I slipped while mowing a hilly portion of the lawn, and my left foot went under the mower.

The damage was fortunately limited to my big toe, but I was in sufficient pain and shock that I was conscious throughout the entire process of being transported to the hospital by ambulance, getting multiple X-rays, and having the toe reattached. (Honestly, the charley horse I got during the X-ray was where the most pain came from!) 

When I called my father to arrange a ride back home, all I got was this response:

Father: “Sure, I’ll send you a toe truck!”

I suspect that I will be dealing with these jokes for the rest of my life.

CONTENT WARNING: Bugs/Insects

This happened about twenty-five years ago, back when I was engaged to the woman who would ultimately become my ex-wife.

I’m not sure where she picked up these parasitic follicle hitchhikers, but she got head lice. Nit at all funny. Still, these things happen.

I checked my hair, and whilst I didn’t think I had any, I still treated my hair with medicated shampoo and a special comb anyway. My fiancée also treated her hair, but her mother had advised against using the specialist shampoos, instead suggesting more natural remedies. 

She advised the use of tea tree oil to kill the lice and banana conditioner to make the hair more slippery to aid in the removal of the lice and eggs.

So, after [Fiancée] dosed her hair up with the gunk, I brandished the comb and got to work. It quickly became apparent that we were in for a long evening. The first comb-through pulled out a lot — as did all the subsequent pulls. I carefully looked through her hair, and as well as a few lice, there were lots and lots of eggs. 

But were they all eggs?

You know that conditioner we used? It turns out they make it by mashing up bananas. And you know what’s inside bananas? Banana seeds. Which are about the same size and shape as lice eggs.

Oh, I didn’t say how long [Fiancée]’s hair was. It was long — reaching the small of her back. And thick. And about the same shade as the eggs I was trying to find. It was clear that this ordeal was far from ova.

All in all, it took about three hours for me to go through [Fiancée]’s hair to remove every trace of lice, egg, and banana seed. (Conversely, it took her about ten minutes to go through my short banana-free hair.)

Afterward, I pleaded with her to never use that treatment again. Fortunately, she agreed, and that method of treatment was scratched.

I am taking a call from a caller who is so angry and loud that they’re throwing curses and obscenities at me like it’s nothing. Every swear word you could think of — and some new ones I’m sure they invented — is thrown at me at a volume so loud that I am holding my headset away from my ears.

My manager is walking past and sees me struggling. He overhears some of the language — very loud caller! — and immediately takes over my headset.

Manager: “Hello, sir! I’m the manager here, and I am sorry to tell you that because your language is so blue, you’ve blue-screened the computer of the agent who was handling your call. Please call back when your vocabulary has improved, along with your mood. Good day!”

He hung up, nodded at me, and then carried on his merry way. Loved that manager!

My dad had always liked to mix foods in unlikely combinations. For example, his “refrigerator omelets” would include whatever leftovers in the fridge that caught his eye.

One day, when he was in his nineties, I took him shopping at our local market. He stopped at the hot soup bar and pointed at the pea soup.

Me: “Okay, Dad, you want some pea soup?”

I added one ladle of pea soup into a container.

Dad: “Eh, eh.”

He stopped me, pointing at the minestrone.

Me: “Dad, you want me to mix them?”

He nodded.

Me: “Pea soup and minestrone? Do you realize what you’re creating? Peanistrone!”

He nodded. 

I did it, but I’m not proud of it.