My wife and I are talking to another couple at a house party about travel plans in the coming year.

Me: “We were thinking about going to Las Vegas as it’s always somewhere I’ve been curious about.”

Friend Husband: “We’ve been there! It’s fun, but don’t go during the summer. The humidity is crazy.”

Me: “Humidity? Really? But it’s so dry there.”

Friend Husband: “Yeah, it’s a dry humidity.”

My wife and I share a look. The wife of the other couple changes subjects and then ushers him away. Later, she finds us alone.

Friend Wife: “Yeah, he thinks humidity means heat. Doesn’t matter what I say, or what Google says, or what our son, who is a f****** meteorologist, says, he’s dying on that hill. Anyway, have fun in Vegas!”

When I was the manager of a storage place, I had a lady who was several months behind on rent. I made the obligatory cold calls for her to catch up before we got rid of her stuff, and finally got her to send a friend to come make the payment.

Customer’s Friend: “What’s the total owed?”

I broke it down and explained the late fees, etc.

Customer’s Friend: *Screaming.* “What?! That’s outrageous! My friend is the closest thing to Jesus I know! You know you just charged Jesus a late fee?!”

After I took a second to compose myself…

Me: “Ma’am, I think Jesus would pay his bills on time.”

I’m with some friends in a coffee shop I work in after closing. They’re waiting for me to clean up before we all leave together. A lot of our pastries and bread products that are unsold are there for the taking, so I offer some around. One of our friends is a vegan.

Vegan Friend: “Oh, no thanks. I’ve stopped eating bread.”

Me: “Oh, why?”

Vegan Friend: “It’s got yeast in it, and yeast is a living organism. I don’t eat things that are alive.”

Other Friend: “Uh, yeast is a fungus, like mushrooms.”

Vegan Friend: “It’s alive, that’s all that matters. I don’t eat anything considered alive!”

Other Friend: “So, you don’t swallow your saliva then?”

Vegan Friend: “What?”

Other Friend: “Your saliva contains millions of microorganisms, all of them alive. Every time you swallow saliva, you’re consuming millions of living things.”

Vegan Friend: “Well… that’s… that’s different.”

Me: “I feel sorry for all your intestinal bacteria. You’ve enslaved them!”

Vegan Friend: “You guys think you’re being funny but you’re not.”

Other Friend: *To me.* “[My Name], when you bake the bread, can you hear the yeast screaming?”

Me: “I used to, but now I just play the music louder to drown them out.”

Other Friend: “Those poor yeasts.”

We laughed and moved on to a different topic. As I finished cleaning up and we’re heading out to the bar:

Vegan Friend: “Finally! I could murder a beer.” *Pause.* “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

I work in a smoothie and milkshake place. A customer comes in with three friends.

Customer: “Three strawberry shakes and a chocolate shake.”

I make the shakes in front of them. They come in clear cups. I still mark the three strawberry cups with an “SS” and the chocolate cup with “CS” because that’s just our store process.

Customer: “Which one is the chocolate one?”

Me: “The brown one, with the “CS” on the side.”

Customer: “You don’t have to say it like that. I could be colorblind!”

Me: “The strawberry ones have chunks of strawberry in them.”

Customer: “Maybe I’m actually blind!”

Me: “You drove your friends here.”

Customer: “Maybe… maybe I—”

Customer’s Friend: “—Come on, man, admit you asked a stupid question, own it, and drink your d*** chocolate!”

He grabbed his chocolate shake and sucked on it. I’ve never seen someone look so upset while enjoying chocolate.

When I was younger, I dressed like an idiot. I had this one pair of ridiculously comfortable gray corduroy pants, which I loved because they had an embroidered record on the butt. I wore these pants just about every day. I’m short, so the bottoms were all ripped up from dragging on the ground all the time.

I’m at a friend’s place, with her six-year-old daughter sitting next to me. We were watching some show and talking about high heels.

Six-Year-Old: “Why do people wear things that make their feet hurt?”

Me: “Sometimes, you have to sacrifice comfort for beauty.”

Six-Year-Old: *Points to my pants.* “Those must be reeeally comfortable!”