Another co-worker would routinely steam lattes with 2% instead of skim if the customers were rude about their orders, satisfied that they would leave ever-so-slightly fatter.

Oh GOD, I’ve just remembered the one my sister told me about the boy she had a crush on at High School. Bear with me, it’s a long one. It’s also a wee bit painful.

My Grandfather suffered a major stroke one day at the local car wash.

This is kinda triggering for me, bc we are almost at the 30-year mark. It’s probably not funny, or strange, but it will be cathartic to write.

If she ever offers you Kool-Aid, don’t drink it.

My great uncle was a llama rancher for most of his life; never married, just ALL LLAMAS, ALL THE TIME.

I was about ten, and my mom’s best friend’s mother died. She was a miserable old bitch, best pictured as a cross between Tony Soprano’s mom and Mrs. Burn’s mom. Just awful and did nothing but spew hatred at everyone.

Alright, I obviously was not there, but this is one of the best funeral/memorial stories I’ve heard to date:

To my surprise my editors thought it showed I could think quickly. I thought it showed we needed name tags for funerals.

My stepmother was a Buddhist, so when she died we had a celebration of life instead of a traditional funeral/wake/etc. The food spread was pretty phenomenal and there was an open bar which I think led to some of these really awkward, inappropriate comments:

My paternal grandmother was a chain smoking, heavy drinking, prescription drug snorting maniac who died exactly at 60, nine months after my grandfather (who also died at 60; they were weirdo high school sweethearts) and maybe five months after my great grandmother. Fifth grade was weird and must have been incredibly…

When I was at my grandfather’s brother’s funeral, one of my father’s cousins let slip that my father is adopted right in the middle of a eulogy. It turns out that everyone knew that my grandmother was already pregnant with my father when she and my grandfather met, except for my father. My mother had even figured it…

So a week after I started this job, a guy who no longer worked at the publication I worked for died in a car accident. I never met him, and he was a copy editor so it wasn’t like I was familiar in any way with him through what he wrote.
But nevertheless, the EOC said everyone needed to go. So I went. And somehow the…

FTW: my husband and I went to our former boss’ mother’s funeral. After his sister read a ‘poem’ about their mother—which was just a ten minute long list of things she liked (She liked the color blue. She liked smoking cigarettes...)- our former boss stepped to the front of the room and hit play on a small, old school…