(I am six. My mother has always had a lewd sense of humour which I seem to have developed. She is buying various items including men’s underwear for my dad.)

Mother: *to me* “You should ask the cashier lady if these underwear come with the lump in the front.”

Me: *having no clue, we eventually reach the checkout desk* “Do those underwear come with the lump in the front?”

(My mother turned beet red and apologized for me. She couldn’t get out of the store fast enough.)

(I am driving in the car with my twelve-year-old daughter when a Beatles song comes on my iPod.)

Daughter: “What is the point of this song? It has no depth to it!”

Me: “It has depth. They’re in a Yellow Submarine!”

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(I work at a walk-in clinic. A new patient has come in and I am gathering his information for his file at the front desk. He has blond hair, blue eyes, and is thirty. He has been otherwise polite to this point. Another patient is standing in line behind him.)

Me: “So, that’s almost it. Last question: who’s your next of kin?”

Patient: “Am I Mexican?! What kind of racist question is that? I ain’t no Mexican freak, you racist b****!”

Me: “Sir, I didn’t ask if you were Mexican. I asked for your next of kin.”

Patient: “What the f*** is a ‘next of kin?’ You are just trying to make things up to cover up your racism!”

Other Patient: “‘Next of kin’ is your emergency contact, moron.”

Patient: “Oh, in that case, my mom. Her contact info is the same. I still live at home.”

Other Patient: “That explains so, so much…”

(I am delivering pizzas to a hotel room in the early evening. I am a guy in my mid-20s with exceptionally long hair. The customer’s name on the bill is “Katie”. After knocking on the door, I hear someone approach it, but they don’t open the door. Instead, I sense them looking through the peephole, which is followed by some loud whispering.)

Voice #1: “Guys, it’s a chick!”

Voice #2: “Are you sure?”

Voice #1: “Yes!”

Voice #3: “Dude! Is she hot?”

Voice #1: “I can’t tell. What do I do?”

Voice #3: “Dude, take off your shirt!”

(For the next few moments I hear a lot of shuffling noises. Finally, the door opens, and what do I see? Three scrawny, dorky-looking, and shirtless teenage boys, completely bewildered to see that I am not, in fact, a girl.)

Me: “Sorry to disappoint you. Now, which one of you is Katie?”

(I am visiting my parents in another province for Easter. My boyfriend texts me to find out if we can have a phone date before I get home the next day.)

Boyfriend: “Sup?”

Me: “Knitting and watching Jeopardy. You?”

Boyfriend: “Don’t forget your prune juice.”

Me: “I’m drinking coffee. F*** you.”

Boyfriend: “I don’t know. Don’t want to break your hip.”

Me: “Shut up!”

Boyfriend: “Whoa there. Getting a little edgy, huh? Have you had your nap yet?”

Me: “I’m gonna kick your butt, sonny boy.”

Boyfriend: “I’ll just have to keep farther than your oxygen tank cord can reach.”

Me: “No lovin’ tomorrow.”

Boyfriend: “The Alzheimer’s will kick in and you’ll forget you said that.”