(My friends and I are standing in line to get our lunches when one of them challenges me to try and talk as “cool” as possible to the kid in front of me.)
Me: *to kid in front* “‘Sup, brah?”
(We are all laughing about it until one of the lunchtime staff walks up to me and asks:)
Teacher: “Why did you call [Kid] a bra?”
Me: “I didn’t. I called him ‘brah;’ it means bro or mate.”
Teacher: “No, it doesn’t.” *leans in close and whispers* “A bra is what holds up boobs.”
(My friends nearby were positively wetting themselves in laughter, and I got off with a “warning.”)
(I start puberty early, and by the age of ten, I have a well-developed chest, while most of my classmates are still very flat. I was constantly teased long before this, but the other girls have started a loud campaign to convince everyone that my breasts are fake. One day, I am in the girls restroom when the head “mean girl” and her friends surround me.)
Mean Girl: “Look; we all KNOW you’re stuffing. You can’t fool anyone! Just admit it.”
Me: *fed up at this point, I lift up the front of my shirt and flash the entire group* “Trust me; they’re real.”
(I then left without saying another word. While I was still teased for a variety of other reasons, somehow no one ever questioned my breasts again.)
(I’m the quiet kid, so I don’t get picked for group projects much. This time, it’s history class and I’m the only one without a group. I go to [Teacher] and ask for a group.)
Teacher: “Who wants [My Name] in their group?”
(No response.)
Teacher: “All right, who wants the person with the highest test scores in any of my classes in their group?”
(Everyone wants me now!)
(I have a guy friend who sits next to me in one of my classes. He jokingly steals pencils and erasers off my desk when I’m focused on something else. He does it so often that I’ve begun to reflexively grab his arm before he takes something.)
Friend: *reaches out*
Me: *grabs arm* “What’d you steal this time?”
Friend: *pulls his arm out of my grasp, takes my hand, and kisses it* “Your heart, milady.”
Me: “Nice try. Now give me back that eraser. I know it’s under your desk.”
Friend: “F***!”
(He’s still one of my best friends.)
(A friend and I are working on the school newspaper. He is in charge of the fun pages, which include comics, quizzes, trivia, games, etc. He is notoriously weird and his section of the newspaper is equally bizarre.)
Me: *after reading his section of the paper* “REALLY? ‘What kind of milk are you?’?!”
Friend: “You said I should tone it down, and it was between that and a crossword where the clues all had something to do with the history of stairs.”
(We ended up using the quiz which, surprisingly, wasn’t the strangest thing we ever published. I am 2%.)
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