1) When I lived in London, our school chartered a coach as a schoolbus (cheesewagons don't exist there). We always had the same driver, a hindu, and I liked him so much that I'd sit at the front and chat to him in the mornings (also, the view was better out the giant bubble windshield than the side windows). He cracked me up, so funny was he, making heavily accented fart jokes and other slapstick attempts to provoke furrows of ire from the chaperoning teacher. One of his fingers was half-way around, as if it had become loose at one of the digit knuckles and begun to unscrew. Being young, I'd no problem asking him about it and each time his answer was different. From: it got chopped off by a lawnmower and then resewn, to a waste disposal unit and then resewn, to bitten off by his wife and then it grew back. I loved the trips to and from school, it was either him, the Top Trumps that I OWNED or the kissing games at the back.
2) Once, while installing hardwood floor in Victoria, I had to inform the 80 year-old lady we were working for that we were almost out of the product (only half-way done) and would have to order more. So she kicked me in the ass. I hadn't liked her until then.