When I was just a kid, my family moved to a more rural area. We soon found out that someone a few houses away gave horseback riding lessons, and my parents convinced her to teach me (despite me being younger than her usual students). This neighbour also had a Jack Russell terrier that was the terror of the neighbourhood. Even the adults would cross to the other side of the street when passing her house, hoping that that would put them far enough away to not draw his attention.
As I spent more time there, I began getting used to the dog, and even dared to pet him sometimes before my lesson. I always tossed him a treat when I came, to get him to see me as a friend.
Eventually, however, due to a stupid argument I had with my instructor (though I still say my stirrups felt uneven), I ended up stopping my lessons. I had been in a miserable mood on the last day, and ended up leaving my bike behind. I knew I had to get it back, but I was still nervous about the dog. I gained some courage when my younger brother and his friend offered to come along with me, on their bikes.
What I hadn’t taken into consideration was the fact that every time I’d gone for my lessons, my instructor had (obviously) been home. This time she wasn’t. I didn’t even make it to her property when her dog came barrelling towards me. My brother and his friend turned their bikes and left. I tossed a treat, but it was ignored.
I ended up swinging my helmet down in front of my legs as a sort of make-shift shield. Thinking back on it, I’m not sure whether he was lunging towards the helmet or me, but at the time, it seemed like he was definitely lunging at me.
Finally, as a car was coming down the road, I gave up, squealed, and ran. The car swerved between me and the dog, stopping him from chasing me, and the driver checked that I was okay. Afterwards, I walked home, still without my bike.
My parents ended up having to pick up my bike for me, because I refused to go anywhere near that house. In fact, I don’t think I so much as biked past there until I was well in my teens. It’s a funny story now, (especially telling my brother’s friends how he completely abandoned me), but I still get tense when I see a Jack Russell, even though I know it’s not the same dog.

I’m visiting my parents, who have a five-month-old puppy. We’re watching tv when the puppy starts barking at apparently nothing.

Me: “[Puppy], stop that!”

[Puppy] keeps barking, so my dad steps in. However, his thoughts are apparently a little jumbled, because what comes out is…

Dad [in his tried and true “I am the Boss!” voice, also loudly]: “[My Name]! Bad!”

The clear authority and the word “Bad” are apparently enough to silence [Puppy], but my mom and I are staring at him. For a moment, he looks between us not getting why we’re starting to crack up, but then it dawns on him.

Dad: “I said [My Name], didn’t I?”
Mom [laughing]: “Ye-es!”
Me: “What did I do? I’m just sitting here, drinking tea! Is that suddenly not allowed?”
Dad: “Yes, yes, I get it, I messed up. You can stop laughing now.”
Mom & Me: “Not a chance!”

My dad’s side of the family is Mexican, which is important to the story. I wasn’t here for this event, it was recalled to me by my dad. This takes place during a family reunion at a public park.

A few of the younger members of our extended family, including my sister, want to play on the playground, so they go over there with their parents. There is a very white Karen-looking woman with her daughter there already. Some of the kids go to try to play with her daughter, while the parents chat. The lady is shooting odd looks at my family for a good five minutes, and eventually says something like “oh my god, there’s [mexican slur]s all over the place.”

The parents took their kids and got out of the playground real quickly.

Why do people feel the need to say stuff like this? My family was just trying to play at the playground and this random lady called them slurs in front of both our young children and hers.

My dad for several months has been receiving cold calls from the same company. I told him about some fun ways to get rid of them or mess with them. He decides to answer like this.
“my name is Armitage Shanks” for the record that’s a Toliet company. His age 371

(My family is together for Easter and my stepsister has brought her four-month-old son, [Nephew].)

Stepfather: “I took [Nephew] for a walk in the stroller and he fell right asleep! Everyone at the park thought he was adorable.”

Grandma: “You know, my father used to do that when [My Name] was a baby. She was a real chick magnet.”

Me: “So great-grandpapa used me to pick up women?”

Mom: “Yup.”

Me: “Is that how he met [Second Wife]?”

(My great-grandfather was married to his first wife for many years and they had five children together, then she died when my grandma was around my age. He remarried when he was in his late 80s to a woman a couple years older than him.)

Grandma: “No, I don’t think so. They probably met at church or something.”

Me: “How long did they date before they got married?”

Mom: “I don’t know, maybe… two months?”

Me: “What?! That seems fast.”

(My mom and grandma exchange knowing looks.)

Mom: “Should we tell her what really happened?”

Grandma: “The truth is, your great-grandfather wanted sex. [Second Wife] wouldn’t give him anything unless they were married. So, they got married.”

Mom: “He used to tell me ‘Women won’t even let me grab a breast without getting married!'”

(I learned more about my great-grandfather than I ever cared to that day.)