(My sister is a known big eater: she’s never met a food she doesn’t like, will eat anything, and never gets a stomachache. One day, we are at a theme park where food from around the world is offered. She tries German food, bratwurst and sauerkraut, and it looks awful. But she eats it anyway as usual.)

Sister: *looking a bit green* ‘You know that food that I got…”

Me: “Yeah?”

Sister: “It tasted really bad.”

Me: “It looked really nasty, like school cafeteria food.”

Sister: “Like realllly bad. Don’t get it.”

Me: “I won’t! German food is the least appealing to me out of all of the cuisines. All those sausages. I don’t like sausage.”

(That night she had her first indigestion. She told everyone not to eat German food after. Everyone’s response? ‘We won’t!!!’)

I have this thing where I laugh uncontrollably when I’m being rained on. No clue why.
Anyway, I’m working the drive through pickup window at Domino’s, it’s bucketing rain, and the lady that pulls through forgets to turn off her wipers. Water splashes on me, and I crack up.
“I’m so sorry,” the lady says as I dry off with paper towels and she turns off her wipers. She apologizes several more times before she leaves.
“It’s fine, but if you’re really sorry, you can give me a tip,” I wanted to say but didn’t.
She came through again a few weeks later, recognized me, and gave me $5. I really appreciated it.

(I’m out at a convention that’s spread across several hotels. This year, however, I’m crashing at a friend’s place just a mile from the festivities. It’s getting pretty late and I’m getting close to calling it a night when I receive a message from guy I’ve had a bit of a crush on, but things between us always seem to fall through.)

Crush: Where are you?

Me: I’m over at [hotel].

Crush: Cool. I might see you over there.

Me: Oh?

Crush: Yeah, let’s meet up.

Me: Sure. Ok.

(I wait around for about 15 minutes when I get another message)

Crush: I’m in the lounge area at [hotel].

(I circle the the lounge area, but I don’t see him anywhere.)

Me: Where exactly? Are you near the bar area, or downstairs, or what?

Crush: I’m on the main level. Where are you?

Me: I’m near the check in.

Crush: I’m on level 5.

(I go up to level 5, but it’s all hotel rooms. I head back down and circle several floors and still don’t see him anywhere.)

Crush: Are you at [completely different hotel a block away]?

Me: What? I’m at [hotel].

Crush: Oh. I can meet you there.

(By this point, it’s almost 2 am, I’ve been running around for over 30 minutes, I’m exhausted and frustrated)

Me: I’m sorry. It’s late and I’m tired. I think I’m gonna head back to my friend’s place and go to bed.

(I’m leave and head over to my friend’s apartment. By the time I make back, I get another message.)

Crush: I’m here at [hotel].

Me: Sorry. I’m already back at my friend’s place.

Crush: I’m at [hotel] too. Wanna meet up?

Me: *screams internally*

(I suddenly remembered why things never worked out with this guy.)

(One of my coworkers has just announced she’s leaving. While we’re nice to her, for the most part everyone dislikes her for how she’s treated us. She tells one of my coworkers, then gets pulled away to work on a task. My coworker looks at me.)
Coworker: (monotone) I’m so devastated.

My husband, sons and I went out to dinner, and were told there would be a 10 minute wait. We hung out chatting in the small lobby near the host stand. It should be noted that my husband is 6 inches shorter than me, which tends to put us in the minority. It should also be noted that good natured ribbing about height issues is pretty common around our house.

Husband (looking at some artwork on the wall): What’s that a photo of? Is that [Ballpark]?

Son#1: No dad, it’s [Ballpark #2]. Which you would see if you weren’t so short.

Me (wrapping my arm around husband’s shoulders): Be nice to your father. I think short guys are awesome.

Just then the host, who was a little taller than my husband, but still shorter than me looked up.

Host: Could you seriously tell every other woman ever that?

Laughter ensued.