(My sister is a waitress at a bar and restaurant. She comes home one day with this very interesting story. She’s in the kitchen and the bartender runs back into the kitchen.)

Bartender: “I can’t do it!”

Sister: “Can’t do what?”

Bartender: *wheezing* “Go. Look.”

(My sister goes to the bar. There is a woman in a head-to-toe — hoof? — fursuit of a horse, waiting at the bar.)

Sister: “Um… What can I get you?”

Horse Girl: “[Alcohol], please.”

Sister: “Can I see your ID?”

Horse Girl: *takes off horse head and hands her her ID*

Sister: *red-faced, nearly crying trying not to laugh* “A horse in a bar, huh?”

Horse Girl: *nonchalantly* “Yeah?”

(Horse Girl does not see the humor in this.)

Sister: “So… where’re you heading?”

Horse Girl: “To the convention center to watch a wrestling match.”

Sister: *nearly losing it* “Which convention center?”

Horse Girl: “Uh… The one right next door?”

Sister: *stares at her expectantly*

Horse Girl: “The Trotter?”

Sister: *f****** loses it*

(My friend is high on prescribed pain meds. She points to the only chair in the room, which has my computer on it.)

Friend: “You need to move the… move the… move the…” *long pause* “You need to move the sock off the table so you can sit.”

Me: “Okay, sweetie. I will. You just rest now.”

(I am a prosecutor in a small-town traffic court, and the judge is seeing walk-in defendants about their traffic tickets. A sweet-looking elderly lady has a ticket for an expired registration on her car, a very easy matter to deal with. As she approaches the bench, for some reason the judge’s sense of humor kicks in and he greets her with the following:)

Judge: “Hello, Mrs. [Lady]. It says here you’ve been charged with theft and attempted murder. How do you plead?”

(The poor lady goes wide-eyed, clutches her chest, and staggers backwards. As the bailiff rushes up to keep her from falling, the judge quickly back-pedals:)

Judge: “I’m sorry! It was a joke! I’m so sorry! Case dismissed!”

(I never witnessed him try to “joke” like that again.)

(Dad holds up four fingers.)

Dad: “I need three pills.”

Me: “Are you sure? You’re holding up four fingers.”

Dad: “Well, I was only looking at three of them.”

(My parents and I are getting ready to go to a wedding in my parents’ city. I live a few hours away, so I pack late the night before and come down early in the morning. I happen to own a couple of pairs of the same kind of shoe. When it’s time to leave for the wedding, I pluck my shoes out of my bag and realise that in my haste, I packed the right shoe from both pairs. My mum leaps into action to see if she can find a spare pair from when I used to live there. In the meantime…)

Dad: “What’s going on?”

Me: “I packed two right shoes.”

(I expect him to get mad because we need to leave, but instead he frowns at me, confused.)

Dad: “Is this a family trait?”

Me: “Eh?”

Dad: “Your sister did the exact same thing a few days ago when she was going out.”

Me: “Really?”

Dad: “Yes. What is it with you two?”

(He sends my sister a message telling her what I did. A little while later…)

Dad: “Your sister says she wasn’t as bad as you; she took a right and a left. They were just from different pairs.”

Me: “Wait, at least mine makes sense because I own two pairs of the same shoes and mixed them up. How is getting two shoes from different pairs better?”

Dad: “To be honest, you’re both as bad as each other.”