(My mother is notorious for never being on time. We’ve joked about it countless times, and my father is usually the one who ends up waking her, since she hates being woken up by an alarm. The morning of this conversation, she tells my father that they must leave the house at six am to do a few errands… only to end up leaving at 7:30. That afternoon, she is talking about a trip she will be talking with a friend tomorrow.)

Mother: “…and I will be leaving by six am.”

Me: *pats father on the arm* “Hear that, Dad? She needs to leave by six am.”

Mother: *indignantly* “Hey, I did wake up at six am today!”

Me: “Yes, but did you get out of the bed?”

(Not at the time, no.)

This story is included in our Philippines roundup – part of the Not Always Right World Tour!

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(I am at a surprise party that one of my friends has thrown for his wife. After the surprise, she goes back inside to change into some more comfortable clothes: a tee shirt and some velvet shorts with owls on them.)

Her Friend: “Oh, those are cute shorts!” *laughs*

Wife: “My husband actually wears them sometimes, too!”

Her Friend: “How does he pull that off?!”

Husband: “With my teeth!”

(I’m doing warm-ups with my cross country team. It should be noted that the cross country team has a rivalry with the football team. As we’re running by the football team’s practice, this happens.)

Football Coach: *sees the cross country team running by, turns to one of his athletes* “DON’T LET THOSE RUNNERS BEAT YOU. G**D*** IT, YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHAT I’LL DO IF THEY BEAT YOU!”

Entire Cross Country Team: *sprints as fast as we all can*

(I recently adopted a new cat. He’s quite unusual. This leads to me having this scenario, I don’t know how many times, with just about anyone coming in my home. As I welcome my visitors — could be friends, family, coworkers, anyone — I warn them right at the door.)

Me: “I got a new cat, Sugar. He’s a little spooky, but please try to not be scared; as it is, he’ll be more afraid of you than you can be of him.”

Friend: “Of course. No problem; it’s just a cat. Is he missing an eye or something?”

Me: “No… You see, he’s a little, round, fluffy ball of black fur.”

Friend: “Oh, no worries. I’m not superstitious or anything.”

Me: “Yeah… That’s not all. He has orange eyes.”

Friend: “Oh, so unique! Must be charming!”

Me: “Yes, he is! Actually, his appearance pushed him to be rejected by people, but really, he just wants to love people, if only they would give him the chance to be loved back. He’s a little shy at the moment, but if you stay calm, he’ll purr like crazy and even will try to lick you.”

Friend: “Aww, so cute.”

(Some time passes, and as we are having a cup of tea in the living room, the cat shows up and curiously but cautiously approaches. I don’t want him to sneak up on people, as he’s already surprising in himself, so I announce him.)

Me: “Hey, [Friend], he’s coming out. Say, ‘hi,’ to Sugar!”

(My friend is smiling as he turns to look… until the orange glow of eyes on a round shaped shadow slowly moving toward us is seen, then he SWEARS AND JUMPS on the seat. Sugar, scared by the screaming human, runs for his life, hiding in another room.)

Me: “Yeah, I did my best to warn you…”

(Most people feel like fools for reacting in such a way and excuse themselves. Also, second meetings with Sugar go much better. They get to see him for what he is: a scary but sweet little fluff-ball of love.)

My husband and I are at a well-known theme park, sitting in the audience of a Bush skills show — sheep shearing, whip cracking, snake handling, making damper bread and billy tea, etc. The showman has just shown around a very large and harmless python; he’s clearly loving the shrieking reactions from tourists, who are all but fleeing from the snake. When he gets to me, I grin and pet the python happily whilst cooing over it as if it was a puppy. He seems a little disappointed he didn’t get the same reaction from me, but the show goes on until he reaches the part about making damper bread.

He calls me up on stage, clearly hoping to get a reaction this time. He jokingly throws random handfuls of flour and salt in a bowl and then pours in far too much water. He looks at me with a grin and tells me to get to it.

It looks like an absolute mess, which is, of course, what he intended.

He goes back to the front of the stage to continue with a demonstration on bush medicine whilst behind him I set about fixing the damper dough. I grab more flour to even out the ratios, add more salt, and by the time he comes back to check on me, I’m kneading a perfect damper bread dough.

He looks at me. He looks at the dough. He looks at me. He looks at the dough, and utterly stumped, all he can say is, “You shouldn’t have been able to do that!” before sending me back to my seat, baffled.

Sorry, mate! You just picked on the wrong lady!