(I work with an older guy who can be considered a “classy gentleman.” He is kind to everyone, is virtually uncontroversial at every angle, and has very modest taste in just about everything.)

Coworker: “I was watching the new Celine Dion music video the other day. As always, she was very elegant with her performance.”

(Okay, so, he likes Celine Dion; we all saw that coming more than a mile away.)

Coworker: “They also took a very interesting approach. I wasn’t sure what they were going for, but I very much enjoyed watching the talented gentleman in the red suit dancing with her.”

(That’s a really weird way to describe Deadpool, but I don’t disagree!)

(My wife has just returned from a conference she went to alone. As I’m picking her up from the airport, she tells me of a male friend she made there, and I gently tease her about it. The next day she shows me pictures from the conference.)

Me: “That’s [Friend]? He’s hot! Are you sure you didn’t sleep with him?”

Wife: “He’s 35, and married, and as tall as I am.”

Me: “When you say he’s 35, what does that mean to you? Is he too old for you?”

Wife: “Yes… Oh, my God! Did I just say that?”

Me: “How old am I?”

(My 35th birthday was a couple of weeks ago.)

(My friend and I are at the gas station to get fountain drinks and cigarettes. When my turn comes up at the counter, I ask for my specific brand. Note that I am very sleep-deprived and so my filter, which isn’t much to begin with, is completely gone.)

Me: “Just this and a pack of [Cigarettes], please.”

(The cashier goes to look and doesn’t find them.)

Cashier: “Sorry, we don’t have them in.”

Me: “Well, s***. Oops, I mean… Actually, no. ‘S***’ sounds right. That is exactly what I mean.”

(My friend and the cashier laugh at me. As I look at the cigarettes behind her to decide what to get instead, the cashier looks thoughtful and asks me to hang on a minute. She goes to check behind another type of cigarette from the same brand, and finds the ones I’m looking for.)

Cashier: “We had them on promo before, so to make room I guess they moved them behind the others.”

Me: “Yay! You saved the day! I mean, you’re selling me something that is known to cause cancer, but the [Day] is saved!”

(She and my friend laugh at me again, and I finish paying and we walk out.)

Friend: *while laughing* “What the h*** is wrong with you?”

Me: “I DON’T SLEEP!”

My great, great grandmother was quite a character all her life. When she passed away, the family gathered for the funeral, and milled around, sharing stories in subdued voices about memories of her.

Shortly before everyone began to file into the room, the funeral director came in. He was looking very frazzled, and wringing his hands. He apologized profusely, and said that the funeral couldn’t start yet; her body wasn’t there!

Apparently, the morgue sent her to the wrong funeral parlor, in an entirely different city! The hearse was on its way to pick her up, but… well… the funeral was going to be delayed.

There was a beat of silence, and then the entire family managed to start laughing.

My great, great grandma had always told the family that she was always late, and would likely be late to her own funeral. She was! About two hours late to be exact.

The story is now family legend, of how great, great grandma was late to her own funeral, and it was the one family funeral that was conducted with snickers and giggling.

I usually have very vivid dreams — so vivid that sometimes I wake up confused as to why I’m not where I was in the dream. Tonight, I dreamed that my husband turned evil and came home with an evil Superman to destroy our books. I, of course, couldn’t let that happen, so I started punching them, kicking them, and trying to fight them, but they were ridiculously strong and nothing worked. At some point in the dream, they burned the books, so I poured some water over them. The bad guys then proceeded to spill an entire bucket of water over all the books, even those not burnt or burning.

I told my “evil” husband that he wasn’t allowed to touch the books unless he treated them with respect.

He made a noise, and then I smacked him in the face, only to realize with a start that it was a dream, because I actually smacked him in reality. He jumped up, super startled, and I could only apologize.

As I related to him the dream and the reason behind smacking him, we couldn’t stop laughing about the whole thing.