Your Boobs Are Glitching Again

, | ME, USA | Bizarre/Silly, Games, Rude & Risque

(My friend is sitting on the lower bunk playing a rather glitchy, pornographic videogame. I am on the upper bunk, so I can’t see his screen. I am female.)

Friend: “AAAH! NO! BOOBS SHOULDN’T DO THAT!”

Me: “What are the boobs doing?”

Friend: “Oh, no, they stopped… NO! THEY’RE DOING IT AGAIN!”

Me: “Well? What are they doing?”

Friend: “I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to call it. It’s just…”

Me: “Boobs shouldn’t do it?”

Friend: “Exactly.”

(A few moments later.)

Me: “You know, you should probably tell me what the boobs were doing so that I can keep mine from doing it when I’m around [Boyfriend].”

Friend: “No, yours couldn’t do it. They’re too small.”

Your Health Is Bananas

, | USA | Food & Drink, Health & Body

(I’m going to make this straight right off the bat. I LOVE fruit. If my friends have an apple or orange, I WILL ask them for it and if they say no, I WILL try to take it from them. My friends are all very close and they are all aware of my addiction. One day, we are all just hanging at my friend’s place, watching TV and eating ice cream while I’m eating a banana. Note: I am almost 25 years old, and my friends aren’t far behind.)

Me: *to [Friend #1]* “Dude, I swear, I love bananas.”

Friend #1: “What, is there like a rating chart for your fruit fetish?”

Friend #2: “Yeah, like, #1 is apple, and #2 is grapes, and so on?”

Me: “No, it’s because bananas have such a different taste from other fruit. It’s so tingly, and sour.”

(Cue 4 out of my 5 friends looking at my in disbelief; the fifth one is still watching TV.)

Friend #4: “Uh, I’m pretty sure bananas aren’t supposed to be sour.”

Friend #1: “Or tingly. You sure that’s a banana?”

Me: “H*** yeah, I’m sure. What is it supposed to taste like?”

Friend #3: “You may want to get that looked at…”

(At my friend’s insistence, they all drive me to the doctor’s where this following occurs:)

Doctor: “You’re allergic to bananas.”

(Yes. Almost 25 f****** years did it take me to realize that I was allergic to a type of fruit that I’ve been eating almost every day.)

Jehovah’s Witless, Part 12

| Mishawaka, IN, USA | Neighbours, Pranks, Religion, Strangers

I spot the Jehovah Witness people coming up my driveway. I’m not religious and find their intrusion annoying, so I decide to do something that will pretty much guarantee they’ll leave me alone in the future.

It is just before Halloween and I have a life-size plaster skull with a candle set into the top sitting on the TV. I move it to the table next to the door and light the candle before racing into the bedroom to slip into the long black caftan I’d bought to wear as a costume. Picking up my black cat, whose name happens to be Mephistopheles, I open the door to greet them. My cat, being half Siamese, is very vocal and calling him by name, I explain to him what the “nice people” want. They didn’t even stay long enough to give me a tract.

Not five minutes later I got a phone call from my neighbor who said they had gone to his house and asked, “Do you know you have a witch living next door?” He said he’d laughed and told them, “Yeah but I usually spell it with a ‘b’.”

Related:
Jehovah’s Witless, Part 11
Jehovah’s Witless, Part 10
Jehovah’s Witless, Part 9

An Arms-Length Away From Disaster

| Duncan, BC, Canada | Non-Dialogue, Physical, Sports, Teachers

I took Karate classes in elementary school. One time when I was around 10, I was sparring with a younger classmate. I threw a punch, which stopped a hair’s breadth away from his nose. I could feel his breath on my knuckles and we froze for a moment, both of us staring wide-eyed at my fist. My Sensei ended the round, awarded me the point, and complimented me on my excellent use of control.

I was too embarrassed to admit that control had nothing to do with it. My arm was fully extended; if I’d had a longer arm or been standing an inch closer, he would have had a broken nose, and I would have been doing push-ups for weeks.

Sunday School Destroys Your Soul

| IN, USA | Pets & Animals, Religion

(At the time of this story I am an eight-year-old still dealing with the loss of my dog who was put down because she had cancer. Everyone at the church knows everyone  The children’s group minister has just finished the lesson on the prophet Elijah who had been carried away by a chariot of fire driven by fiery horses. I approach the minister after the lesson and I say:)

Me: “Do all animals go to heaven?”

Minister: “Well, animals don’t have souls so they can’t go to heaven when they die.”

Me: *crying* “So I won’t get to see Chloebelle ever again?”

(The minister said she’s in Hell, because dogs don’t have souls.)