For the school fair, my society decided to run a bakery. As the only person who knew how to bake, I was put in charge. Right off the bat, I had trouble. I had only one volunteer, she was a female and the only kitchen in the boarding school that allowed both genders inside was already fully booked. So I had to beg for permission to use my dorm’s kitchen, which the vice principal gave.

Halfway through our baking, we noticed some smoke and suddenly realised the oven was ON FIRE. After panicking, I hit the fire alarm and got the dorm master in to put the fire out. One of my dorm mates came up to us and talked as we waited for the smoke to clear.

Dormmate 1: You know, the fire is easier to believe than the fact that *points at [Female Friend]* she is here.

Us: Seriously?

Later, when we were waiting for the last cupcakes to bake in the dorm’s second oven, another two guys came into the kitchen and froze when they saw [Female Friend].

Me: Hey guys. Don’t worry, I got permission for her to be here.

Dormmate 2 and 3: *Still stunned and bug-eyed* Uh huh.

Me: Oh yeah, that oven caught fire and is busted now. Don’t touch it.

Dormmate 2: You know, I can believe the fire. What I can’t believe is the fact that you got permission for *points at [Female Friend]* her to be here.

Dormmate 3: Uh huh. What he said.

Us: WTF?

A few days later, after the fair.

Best Friend: Hey, I saw your Instagram. Did you really–

Me: Set the oven on fire? Yes.

Best Friend: No, I know that the oven was on fire. What I can’t believe is the girl in the picture. Did you really bring her to [Male Dorm]?

Me: ………

A few days later, in class.

Me: I’ve still got some cupcakes left over from last week’s fair. Anyone want some?

Jock Classmate: Hey thanks man. Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while, so how did you–

Me: Set the oven on fire? No clue.

Jock Classmate: No. Who cares about the oven? How did you bring that girl into [Male Dorm]?

Stuck-up Female Classmate: Oh yeah, I saw that. How did you get permission?

House Captain Classmate: Yeah. I can’t believe that you actually got permission. Isn’t the school like super conservative about stuff like this?

Me: But the fire……

Whole Class: Yeah, yeah, we know the oven was on fire. We want to know how you got permission to bring a girl back to your dorm.

Me: *eye starts twitching*

Later that night.

Prefect: Hey man. I saw your Instagram. Did you really bring [Female Friend] into [Male Dorm]?

Me: Yeah. We set the oven on fire as well.

Prefect: Uh huh. So how did you do it? I want to invite my girlfriend into my room.

Me: Why the f*ck is everyone more interested in [Female Friend] than the fire?!

Next day.

Female Friend: Hey, friend. You will not believe this. Everyone keeps asking how I got permission to go to [Male Dorm]. Like, nobody cares about the fire.

Me: Same. Why the hell does EVERYONE find the fire easier to believe than you being at [Male Dorm]?

I was driving home from work one night when I stopped at a red light. There were two cars ahead of me, but by the time I got there there was no cross traffic, but the road was fairly dark due to a lack of streetlights on that block.

The guy in front apparently decided that this meant it was the perfect time to run a red light, since he suddenly accelerated through the intersection.

At which point the car behind him suddenly turned on its red and blue lights and proceeded through the intersection after him.

I’ve been working in the field for almost nine years. Not once have I come across someone who openly clipped their nails in the waiting room. First was a lady who filed and clipped to her hearts content. Filing is gross because I heard someone say the filed dust of someones nail lifts into the air and can be inhaled. Now second, the very next day, an older man sits in the exact same spot! And this time I noticed he didn’t even have the courtesy to do it over the bin, which was two feet away from him! He could literally lean forward from his seat and pull it toward him.

I notice only because the sound of clipping and flicking nails is like nails on a chalkboard for me. I can’t stand it.

My girlfriend recently got a haircut, but was upset because it was shorter than she liked. A week or so later, I also got a haircut; when I go over to her place, I joke that my hair is now shorter than hers.

A bit later, we’re feeling amorous, and head to the bedroom for some sexytimes. In the middle of everything, my girlfriend suddenly exclaims, “Wow, that’s REALLY short!”

I stopped and looked at her. I realized she had been stroking my head, just as she shouted, “YOUR HAIR! I meant your hair was really short!”

She was very relieved when I just started laughing.

(My grandmother has recently moved in with us. It doesn’t take her long to start manipulating us to get what she wants, that is when she isn’t straight up ignoring our rules. There’s a two-year wait for a spot in an assisted living home, so we try to make the best of the situation. She doesn’t make it easy.
She usually keeps a cup upstairs in her room for water. One cup is fine, but Mom warns her to make sure she brings it down the next day to get washed. She won’t use a water bottle because… reasons we haven’t figured out yet.
We start to notice the cups slowly disappearing over time. After checking the sink and dishwasher, we realize there are several cups missing. Dad asks Grandma if she has any in her room, and she says no.
A few days later, I’m downstairs watching TV when I hear Dad and Grandma yelling at each other.)
Dad: You can’t keep all these cups in your room!
Grandma: Why not?
Dad: Because there are four other people in this house who would like to have something to drink out of!
Grandma: But I need water at night!
Dad: Then you take one cup upstairs, use it, bring it back down the next morning, put it in the sink, and grab a new cup from the cupboard. Or get a Dixie cup from the bathroom. You can’t keep hogging all the cups in the house!
Grandma: I am your mother! You can’t talk to me like that!
Dad: It’s my house! My rules!
(Dad comes down with a stack of five or six cups and throws them in the sink. Grandma stays in her room all day, pouting like a child. The next day, she comes down to eat with us.)
Grandma: Can I take a cup upstairs?
Dad: Yes.
Grandma: Good. I wasn’t sure if I was still allowed.
Dad: As long as you bring it back down tomorrow to be washed.
Grandma: (Laughs).
Me: (once she’s gone) Why was that funny?
Dad: It wasn’t. She just doesn’t believe me.