(My family has recently become proud owners of a six-month-old border collie. She has quickly become the light of our lives, but she becomes very attached to my dad right away. One day, my dad and I are driving with our dog in the back seat. She is really enjoying the ride, switching from one window to the other with a huge grin on her face. My dad looks in the rearview mirror and starts baby-talking to her.)

Me: “Aww, Dad, you really love [Dog], don’t you?”

Dad: *jokingly stoic* “NO!”

Me: “Yes, you do. You don’t use baby talk for anybody.”

Dad: “Cubans don’t love dogs!”

(My dad is half English, half Scottish, and very pale, so no chance of any Cuban heritage. I look at him, confused.)

Me: “But you’re not Cuban.”

Dad: *confused* “No, I’m not.”

(We sit there in confused silence for a minute or two.)

Me: “Then why did you say, ‘Cubans don’t love dogs?'”

Dad: “Humans don’t love dogs.”

(The exchange was so funny, we now use it as an inside joke every now and then.)

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([Coworker #1] is a Christian fellow who is always quiet and not at all into popular music. Our group is working on a technical problem. We need to establish the baseline signal for something and the lower we can get it, the better.)

Coworker #1: *after some thought, musing out loud* “So, really, it’s all about the baseline.”

([Coworker #2] and I start to crack up.)

Coworker #1: *embarrassed, and without meaning to escalate* “No; what I mean is, how low can we go?”

([Coworker #2] and I break out laughing.)

(I am currently taking a female modernist literature course. During one of our class discussions, our professor gives off a list of words, and after each one, we are to name its “opposite.” Afterwards, she says which side is stereotypically associated with the male or female gender. It is pretty basic at first: sun/moon, reason/illogical, etc. Then, the professor gets to the word “soul.”)

Professor: “How about ‘soul?’ Anyone?”

Classmate #1: “‘Body?’”

Classmate #2: “I’d say ‘body.’”

(This is echoed by my fellow classmates, save one girl who speaks up in a dark voice.)

Classmate #3: “THE ABYSS.”

(Everyone stops talking for a second and stares at her. The girl just sits there, smiling as if she’s done nothing unusual.)

Classmate #1: “I like hers better!”

(The classroom agreed and the professor happily jotted it down.)

I worked at a bakery and coffee shop for the summer. It had been around for over a century and was a huge tourist draw. It was always monstrously busy, with a line out the door every day.

One day, in the middle of a rush, a woman in her 60s came up and ordered a “French Vanilla.” I asked her to clarify what she would like made with French Vanilla: a latte, a cappuccino, a macchiato, etc. She looked at me like I had slapped her, and said she didn’t want any of that, just a French Vanilla.

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to define “adjective” for her. Instead I told her that we could add vanilla syrup to any of our drinks, but that she needed to tell me which drink she wanted. Her friend started to chime in about my incompetence and mumbled, “Just give the woman her godd*** French Vanilla, already.”

My supervisor came over and, not realizing what was happening, complicated the situation by telling them that we didn’t actually have French Vanilla syrup, just regular vanilla syrup. The woman then screamed, in front of a few dozen people, “I JUST WANT A FRENCH VANILLA!”. I eventually just made her a vanilla latte, which she said was the worst thing she had ever tasted.

A couple months later, I went into a very popular chain coffee shop and saw “French Vanilla” listed on their menu, and it all made sense. What was the drink? Basically, a vanilla latte.

(I have almost no verbal filter, and, as such, I tend to say the first thing that comes into my head. I also have no shame, and am rarely embarrassed by anything I come out with. One day at school, I am sitting at a table with two friends and we are talking. I am a girl and my friends are both boys.)

Me: “I realised the other day that mums are called mummies because they have mammary glands.”

Friend #1: *puts his head in his hands and gazes downwards for several seconds, finding his voice* “That’s certainly very novel. Want a cookie?”

Me: *grinning* “But…”

(I trail off, not sure where I’m going with this. The conversation turns in a different direction. A few minutes later…)

Me: “But why not call them ‘mummory’ glands? Or ‘mammies’?”

Friend #2: “Just be quiet!”

Friend #1: “You’re listing off a whole bunch of fetishes right now. Like, all of them.”