(It’s Ash Wednesday, and I have an ash mark on my forehead from having gone to mass earlier in the day; it’s a once-a-year deal some Christians do at the beginning of Lent, a period of preparation before Easter. My next college class is about to start, and some students are laughing about a joke one told. The teacher calls the class to order, and the students are still snickering. We students have been in the same series of classes for three years, but the teacher is new and he doesn’t realize someone told a joke before he entered. He keeps shooting them stern looks while starting his lesson.)

Teacher: *sternly to the laughing students* “That is enough. I can’t believe you’re laughing about this; I expect you to be more adult.” *normal tone, to me* “[My Name], you have something on your forehead, and instead of quietly pointing it out to you, your classmates are mocking you.”

Me: “They’re laughing at a joke. It’s Ash Wednesday.”

Teacher: “You mean, you know it’s there?”

Me: “Yes, it’s on purpose. Thanks for looking out for me, though.”

Teacher: *turning red* “Everyone, never mind. Today’s lesson…”

I work in the bookstore of a very small town. We get some religious and conservative folk here. I’m female, bisexual, and have a long-distance girlfriend. I’m wearing a cross she gave me for our one-month anniversary. I’m at the register when a group of three customers all in their late teens or early twenties, the same as me, comes up.

Customer #1: “Do you have any Bibles here?”

Me: “You know, I’m not sure. Let me ask [Coworker].”

I ask [Coworker] and she takes them over there. They return with a Bible and proceed to check out.

Me: “I’m glad you found everything okay.”

Customer #1: “Yes, you’re going to have to order some more Bibles now.”

I nod and start to ring her up, telling her the total and giving her change. Another customer notices my cross.

Customer #2: “Ooh, your cross is so pretty. What’s it made of? Is it amethyst?”

Me: “Thank you. It’s black diamond, actually.”

Customer #2: “That’s really pretty. Who gave it to you? What does it mean to you?”

Me: “It’s actually from my girlfriend.”

There’s a noticeable pause from everyone.

Customer #2: “Oh, it’s from… your special friend?”

I don’t want to make a scene, so I finish ringing the customer up and hold out her bagged Bible, smiling.

Me: “Here you go. Have a great day!”

The fact that someone so willingly misinterpreted the meaning of “girlfriend” really took the cake that day.

I was a customer in a chain restaurant and was seated at the bar. A customer near me ordered a cocktail. The bartender/waitress made the cocktail and the customer took a sip and complained it was too sweet. The bartender/waitress apologized and explained she had had to look up how to make that drink and offered to make a different cocktail.

The customer ordered a different cocktail, a common one, and the bartender/waitress made it and gave it to the customer, who was satisfied.

The customer and dining companions then decided to move from the bar to a table for dinner. As they were moving, the customer left the too-sweet drink on the bar, and her dining companion noticed and said, “Drink it anyway! You can’t throw away alcohol; it’s against my religion!”

(I’m with my father, sister, and two nephews, who are both under four.)

Sister: “Hey, [Nephew], tell us what you said to me last night about God.”

Nephew: “I know who God is; God is love.”

Dad: “That’s nice.”

Nephew: “Mom is God with you?”

Dad: “Huh?”

Nephew: “Because she loves you!”

Dad: “Aww, well, I’ll be God with you, too.”

(My nephew then starts to tackle his baby brother.)

Dad: “Hey, stop that! You be God with your brother.”

Nephew: “I DON’T WANNA BE GOD!”

Some years ago, the city I live in was inundated with screaming God botherers — no, not Christians; there are profound differences between the two — who made it a point to stop anyone who entered the city center.

Having no idea that these oxygen thieves were around, I went into town to do some shopping. As I wandered through the pedestrianised area, one of them rushed up to me and thrust a Bible into my hands.

I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a pen.

I signed that Bible, handed it back saying, “Always nice to meet a fan,” and sauntered off.