Going way back for this one… Sitting around the high school lunch table, one of my friends asked another “If you had to make a deal with the devil, what would you ask for in exchange for your immortal soul?”
Other friend, without missing a beat, “His.”.
Reminds me of the time my husband asked me to choose between two of my least favorite bands. “If you had to purge one musical group from existence, would you choose Coldplay or Dave Matthews Band?”
Me: “Nickelback.”
My sister, when a teen, would do this thing where she’d open her mouth, emit no sound, then claim she was singing in ultrasound.
Nice… my hair’s white, so I can claim I’ve dyed it ultra-violet.
.
My mom had a good one. She pulled a shirt of my dad’s out of the closet and said “I bought you this for your birthday, and you’ve never worn it.”
“I’m saving it for your second husband.”
“Oh, he’s not your size.”
When my daughter was 12 or 13, she once said she wanted to try the game Call of Duty. I shrugged and said “sure.” Suddenly inspired, I added “what is that? Is it a game about pooping?”
Daughter: “What?! No!!!”
Me: “Oh oh oh! Call of Duty. I thought you said ‘Call of Doody.’”
She just looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
Hah. I just started rereading a humorous SF anthology called Unidentified Funny Objects. One of the first stories is an alien invasion in which the alien overlords are taking over the earth, and basically telling everyone “Move to Canada or be destroyed” - told via a series of tweets.
Nickelback is mentioned pejoratively by various humans who don’t believe the invasion is real, and also cite that as a reason not to move to Canada. The last line of the story is “Sorry, we’re destroying Canada, too. We finally listened to Nickelback”.
I’ll have to check out that collection! Science fiction is my favorite genre, but it can be so morose. A change of pace would be nice.
It’s actually a series of anthologies. I forget the exact number but I believe there are at least six, all of which I have and have read. Well worth looking up.
John is an African-American acquaintance of mine. His wife Susan is white. Once John was talking to a landscaper outside his house. Susan walked out of the house carrying her young, blond, blue-eyed nephew, and came over to listen to John’s conversation. John noticed the landscaper looking at the child with some puzzlement, so he leaned over and said “she swears he’s mine.”
I posted this in November of last year in a thread about formal attire in an informal setting:
After being invited to an out-of-town wedding, I bought a suit for the first time in my life. The night before I was to leave, I put it on and went to the corner bar, just to get a reaction. The bar was run by a tough character, often alongside his beautiful wife and gorgeous 18-year-old daughter who were known locally as Big Mary and Little Mary. So, I strolled into the bar wearing my new suit and Big Mary said with a grin, “Alovem! What’s with you? ” I held my head up, raised an outstretched arm and proclaimed, “I’m here to ask for Little Mary’s hand in marriage! ” Everyone in the place howled with laughter, including Big and Little Mary, but their husband/father just glared at me. 
This happened today on my allotment/community garden - I promise you this is true. My allotment neighbor inherited a plot which is a hell of a mess. It was neglected for years; he’s new and is still trying to sort it out. Today he was trying to plant out some seedlings, but ran into problems. Things like carpet and old iron bars are often used on allotments. and what he thought was simply a plot of earth to plant in turned out to be a thin layer of soil covering two layers of discarded carpet underlay and, for good measure, an iron strut.
Him: You remember Speedy Gonzales?
Me: Yeah?
Him: Underlay! Underlay! A rebar!
I was deeply impressed.
(For those completely mystified, Speedy Gonzales (you’ll have to read to the end of the para) and rebar).
Allotmenting reminds me of an occasion in a bar. I was there with Mrs T, and we were with my allotment mentor and gardening guru J and her husband C, as well as other friends. We were chatting about this and that - probably cricket - when suddenly, out of nowhere, Mrs T turns to J and says:
“So J, about dead-heading hydrangeas…”
J looked surprised at the turn of events. “That was a bit of a non-secateur”, I said.
(Again, just in case, secateur.)
j
My husband’s sister is adopted. When she was little, my MIL was in line at the grocery store and the cashier said, “Aww, she’s so cute. Does she look like her father?”
To which my MIL replied, “I have no idea.”
Setup…
Diversity training at work. There were about 20 people around a table. We were given a list of statements about males/females. We had to answer true or false.
After we came up with our individual answers they went around the room. The instructor read the first question to the person on her left. The person answered whether they thought it was true or false. Then we discussed. Then the instructor went to the next person and asked the next question.
They got to about the fifth question. The person that was to answer the question was female (I am male).
The question was something like, “men tend to interrupt more than women and answer questions not addressed to them”. In the middle of the question I blurted out “true!”. Only a couple of the people in the class got what I did.