It just occurred to me, in those same days before computers, instead of fora like this one, some of us contributed to amateur press associations. I ran one, and a different neighbor in the same apartment joined. Never having said a word to me about it, she wrote a long, detailed piece beginning “Don’t you know any quiet women?” and ending with “My kids”–whose bedroom abutted mine–“are getting quite an education.” As were all the other members of the apa…
In college my roommate and I were eating in the cafeteria and listing which girls we like. Then, all of a sudden I got quiet because I realized that one of the girls I was about to name was sitting across from me.
She didn’t notice, but the girl she was sitting with did, and thought I was talking about her. She then sort-of-but-not flirted with me for the next two years, but because she wasn’t really blatant about it and wasn’t the physical flirting type, I didn’t figure out what was going on until a couple years after college :smack:
I come into the office in the morning. The phone is ringing. I pick it up. It’s the super from the rooming house we manage. A rooming house fill of very nasty characters.
Super: I wanted to let you know, Dennis (one of the tenants) got attacked with a chainsaw last night.
Me: A chainsaw?
Super: Apparently he owned a landscaper money, and the guy came up to collect. When Dennis barricaded himself in the bathroom, the guy used his chainsaw to cut through the door and ended up cutting Dennis’s arm.
Me: So what was the final outcome?
Super: Dennis is in the hospital, and the guy’s in jail.
I call the Broker and relate this chain (ha-ha) of events. Her response?
No wonder the landscaper didn’t come to my house to do the trees today.
You really want someone who would attack another person (even if it is Dennis. Couldn’t happen to a more deserving soul) with a chainsaw coming to your house?
Only one I can think of is:
I’m in the bathroom brushing my teeth and Mrs. Cad is already in bed. In the mirror through the open door I see this person walk behind me headed toward the bedroom. On instinct I do a back kick and the next thing I realize is that I had kicked a glass of water out of Mrs. Cad’s hand. It was perfect - I couldn’t have done it that well if I had thought about it.
The sitcom came in with Mrs. Cad standing motionless for about 10 seconds staring at the empty spot where her glass was, her fingers still curled as if holding it.
The above post reminded me of one for me. Several years ago, I had a 10 gallon aquarium with 3 fire-bellied toads in it, sitting by my computer. I was sitting there one evening and glanced in at my toads. Reflected in the tank’s glass was a man walking across the room toward me. Now… I live alone. No one else was there but the critters.
I literally started to hyperventalate, gasping for breath. Never mind that all my various dogs were snoozing peacefully around me. It took me a moment to realize that the ‘man’ approaching me was the reflection of the TV screen behind me.
God, I felt stupid.
I was once in a job interview; and I was being asked about my references. While discussing one of the references I mentioned that person was brilliant and a mentor of mine at a previous company. Only after talking to my friend (the reference) later did I find out he had interviewed for the same job.
Who got the job?
I was working at Barnes & Noble, back in college, and a very attractive young man walked up, placed his books on the counter and said, “Can you check me out?”
“Sure, turn around please.”
He looked over his shoulder, obviously not knowing there was mischief afoot. He looked back at me, puzzled. I looked him up and down, winked, and said,
“Not bad at all. I’d give you my number.”
We both had a good laugh, and we wound up dating for awhile. Hehe.
One time in college, I walked in to the cafeteria and after getting some food, I saw a chick that I had met that I kinda liked, so I went over and sat down and started talking to her. She gave me a funny look, then said “I know what you’re doing” all mysterious like. So I kinda played along. After a couple minutes, I realized I had not met this girl before, she was a complete stranger I had mistaken for someone I had met. Oops. Apparently she thought I was doing some sort of psych experiment on her, so she didn’t freak out. It was fairly funny when I realized my goof.
No, we didn’t end up dating. I was a giant flaming imbecile.
HA! Once I was walking across a parking lot and a woman walking the other way came up to me and said "Are you _____? And I said “no.” and she went “Are you SURE?” :smack:
It wasn’t me. That was at least 7 years ago. If I remember right he was offered the job but turned it down; but get this… that ‘friend’ has since been put in jail for having sex with a minor (His DOC charge read Child Molestation). Sometimes life is strange and I’m glad I’m here to watch it happen.
Neither of these is really a sit-com-y thing, but this has kind of just devolved into telling funny stories from your life, so here are my two favorites (both posted before, but not for years).
(1) My real name is Alex, and my mom frequently calls me by my full name (Alexander). Many years ago, when I was a young child, I had a tendency to run off and get lost. So one day we were at a museum with an exhibit of artifacts from the time of Alexander the Great called The Search for Alexander. And I got lost. So my mom had to go wandering through The Search for Alexander saying “Alexander? Alexander?”.
(2) 7 or 8 years ago, I was (in one of the stupidest mistakes of my life) dating a woman who was had all sorts of issues. So one day she was having PTSD-style flashbacks to a time in her youth when she had been molested by an uncle. I was a bit at a loss, and was doing my best to attempt to cheer her up. We had just seen South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut, and I said something about how we had been promised that there would be punch and pie, and that seemed to cheer her up a bit, so I cast about quickly for another funny line from that movie, and the next thing that came out of my mouth was (and I swear this really happened) “No one fucks uncles quite like you”.
I was a bridesmaid at my best friends wedding and we were spending the afternoon before the ceremony in her hotel suite getting ready and we were full of girlish high spirits. I believe we were dicussing what topiary design Laura should shave into her landing strip for her special day so we called her fiance and told him to come over , we had an important wedding related decision and needed his help.
There is a knock on the door. I was wearing just a skimpy set of underwear and Laura was wearing even less. Giggling, we open the door “as is” and prepare to vamp her fiance.
And it’s the flower delivery guy who is a 16 year old boy, the son of the couple who run this family business. He turns bright crimson, pushes the flowers at us, and flees.
He didn’t give us a chance to tip him (although maybe he thought he got tip enough). Laura took such things very seriously though and she knows this family and did not want them to think she stiffed their son ( on the gratuity, that is).
So she calls the florist and attempts to explain what happened. All too soon, she discovered that there was absolutely no way to spin the story so we didn’t sound like total pervs but she tried…and kept trying and kept getting in deeper and deeper. And by that time her fiance was there and we were cracking up completely listening to the web she wove while explaining herself to the florist.
I was semi-dating two girls simultaneously, and somehow invited them both to the same July 4th party. They both showed up and sitcom-style hilarity ensued.
“Wait here I’ll go get you a drink.”
“Wait here I’ll bring you a burger from outside.”
“This is my friend X. Talk to her a minute I’ll be right back.”
“No don’t use that bathroom go upstairs.”
Later in the evening I found myself sitting on the porch swing between the two of them, all of us pretending not to know what was happening. And no, a threesome did not ensue. If I recall correctly I went home alone that night (and quite many nights after that).
I’m a member of Mensa - not trying to brag, but to put the story in context. At one of our social gatherings we happened to be talking about where our names came from. My real name is Jaclyn and I told how I had been named after Jaclyn Smith from Charlie’s Angels. Another member - someone who is in Mensa, and supposedly intelligent - let’s call her Dora, responded. The conversation went like this:
Me: …And my sister was a big Charlie’s Angels fan so she suggested the name to my mom.
Dora: Is your sister older or younger than you?
Me: 
Uh…she’s my older sister, of course. How could she have been around to suggest my name if she was younger than me?
Dora: Well, she could have watched Charlie’s Angels in reruns, couldn’t she?
Me: :smack:
Well, it was clearly someone’s party, and the town had such a low rate of serious crime my parents didn’t bother locking the house when everyone left for school and work in the morning.
I’m not sure why she didn’t think it was weird the rest of the party guests were twice as old as the granddaughter.
My sister and I pretend-shopping in the upmarket mall, in one of the most expensive suburb in the country.
As we’re leaving the car park, a late-model Mercedes pulls out of her spot. There, just beside where the driver’s door would have been, a very large, high-end branded shopping bag.
Our eyes nearly pop out of our heads with the anticipation and wonderment of the looty treasure that awaits. We plan. Its gathering must be surreptitious, non-chalant, deft.
Minutes later, unnoticed, the bag has been gathered by her and flung through the sun-roof as I drive past. She quickly walks to the elevator, and just like a movie, walks straight out on the next floor, into my barely stopped car.
Laughing with guilty excitement, the possible contents of the bag seem almost endless. Three blocks away, we finally stop the car and open it.
Dirty nappies. The thing was full of dirty nappies.
Ooh, I’ve done that one. Only I did it in a hotel room, where my best friend’s father just so happened to be the hotel manager . . .
I did that one, too. Drove to one of my college classes (I’d normally have walked, but I was running late), parked my car in a parking garage, and then walked home after class. Only in my case I didn’t notice the car was missing until late the next day (didn’t use it that often at the time). Cost an arm and a leg to get it out of the garage . . .
Reminds me of one that happened to my husband.
When he was in college he went to SFSU (San Francisco State University). It happens to be located a few blocks from a fairly big mall. One day before classes he had to pick up something so he parked at the mall, did his shopping, and decided to just walk to classes. When he finished he was walking across the school parking lot and and was being followed by a car waiting to snag his parking spot. (I always call them “walker stalkers” heh.) The guy rolled down his window and said, “Hey man, you going to your car?” He said: “Yes.” so the guy kept following him.
When my husband left the parking lot and turned off down the street that guy must’ve been pretty pissed.
I just remembered the most “sit-com-y” thing that ever happened to me, several decades ago, when I was about 19 or 20 . . . and very naive. I was working in a department store, and there was a very hot guy in a different department who I was interested in. On the rare occasions that our paths crossed, we made significant eye contact. In other words, each of us knew the other was gay . . . and interested.
Long story short, I wound up going home with him. We got into his bed and were making out hot and heavy. At one point he excused himself and left the room. When he came back about 10-15 minutes later, he was in full drag, including wig and makeup. First of all, this was my first experience with a man in drag, and I didn’t know how to react. Secondly, I am not at all attracted to women, and that includes men in drag. But the guy was making motions to resume our lovemaking, which now was out of the question. I didn’t have the presence of mind to explain this to the guy, so I faked a migraine and ran out of his apartment . . . stark naked. I had to knock on the door, be let in, and get dressed, all the while swearing that I did indeed have a migraine.
From then on, at work, the two of us totally ignored each other.