(I’m a huge fan of rock and metal music, so I have brought my kids up with it, although I like pretty much anything. My four-year-old and I are in the dentist waiting room waiting to be seen, and my son is listening to some metal, not very loud as not to disturb anyone else.)

Woman: “You should be ashamed of yourself! Making your kid listen to that heathen spawn!”

Me: “I’m sorry? What’s wrong with it? More to the point, what’s it to you what music my kids listen to?”

Woman: “It’s not Christian! They worship the devil!”

Me: “Not Christian? Your religion doesn’t restrict you in what music style you can or cannot listen to. I have many friends who are both Christian and metal fans.”

Woman: “They are not Christian! They are heathens sent by the devil!”

Me: “Does the bible not say Jesus forgives our sins and loves us no matter what?”

Woman: “Well, yes, but…”

Me: “And does it not say judge lest thee be judged?”

Woman: “But…”

Me: “I’m not religious, and with your judging me, I’m more of a Christian then you are. So, if any of us are going to Hell, it certainly won’t be me. Now, [Son], what do we do to people who judge us purely by our choice of music?”

Son: *whilst doing some devil horns with his free hand* “ROCK ON, LADY!”

(After that, she just sat there giving me the evil eye until we got called in.)

(Our friends [Friend #1] and [Friend #2] are a bit weird, not to mention forgetful.)

Friend #1: “Hey, do you guys want to come over Saturday afternoon and have a barbecue with [Friend #2] and me?”

Us: “Sure. What time? 3:00?”

Friend #1: Sounds good. See you then.

(We arrive on Saturday at 3:00.)

Friend #1: *visibly surprised to see us* “Oh, hi! Excuse me a second.” *leaves*

Me: *to my husband* “That was odd. I have a feeling he forgot he’d invited us over.”

Husband: “Same here.”

Friend #1: “So, here’s the deal, guys: you’re welcome to stay if you really want to, but [Friend #2]’s Wiccan friends are here, and they’re going to be starting their Solstice ceremony soon.”

Me: “Uh… What’s that?”

Friend #1: “Well, it involves stripping naked and dancing around a bonfire.”

Husband: “You know what? I think we’ll get going.”

Friend #1: *relieved* “That’s probably a good idea. Thanks for stopping by!”

(I’m kind of sorry that we didn’t stay, because it would have been interesting, to say the least. But we had our toddler with us, and that would have led to some awkward questions.)

My Muslim friend doesn’t drink, but she always thought it was funny when other people did and got a bit silly. Once we were having a small get-together and she decided she was going to mix us all cocktails. Even with our instructions telling her how much to put in, she made them strong; she used at least twice, if not three times as much alcohol as I would use.

Years later, she posted something on a social networking site about being a non-drinker and how annoying people were about it. I remembered this party and the cocktails, so I jokingly replied mentioning it. She went nuts at me, saying it never happened — maybe she doesn’t remember it but it happened — that she had never even touched the outside of a bottle of alcohol — a lie — and that I was malicious for posting it.

I realise that maybe I made a mistake posting publicly, as some of her Muslim friends and family might not know that she used to do things like that, and I have apologised for this. But I do not appreciate being called a liar.

(I’m on the train on the way to meet up with some friends. It’s around the time that Twilight is really popular. As I stand to get ready to get off, there’s a teenage girl glaring at me because of the shirt I’m wearing. As I move closer to the door she comes up to me.)

Girl: “Why would you wear that? It isn’t funny.”

Me: “Yeah, it is.”

(She turns to a teen boy she’s with.)

Girl: “[Boy], tell her that it’s a terrible shirt.”

(He looks at my shirt, starts laughing, and gives me a fist bump.)

Boy: “That’s the best s*** I’ve seen in a long time.”

(The girl walked off in a huff. I got off the train and went about my day with my friends, two of whom had the same shirt. What did my shirt say? “Then Buffy staked Edward. The End.”)

(I live in a house divided into three apartments. The largest is occupied by the homeowner, the upstairs apartment is occupied by the owner’s 20-something son and his girlfriend, and my husband and I rent the smaller, downstairs apartment below them. My husband has known the family for years, hence the good price; however, I am viewed as “the outsider” and often end up at the center of any gossip. The homeowner’s son and his girlfriend have been pushing to kick me out so that the apartment can be rented to one of their friends. Because of this, I make it a point to keep my head down, and try to be as polite as possible. I always get a kick out of hearing the latest gossip about what I’m doing.)

Husband: “So, [Homeowner’s Son] says that you’ve been spying on them through the windows.”

Me: “Oh, the bedroom windows with the blackout curtains? Or the living room windows that look out into the woods? Wait! I know! It’s the bathroom window isn’t it? The one that’s too high for me to see out of, and has the blinds?”

Husband: “Oh, and they say you spy on them on the porch. You’re always out there.”

Me: “You mean where I enter and exit through the front door?”

Husband: “Exactly.” *joking* “You’re not allowed to have a life. Just stay in your box. And no more windows.”

(Later:)

Me: “I ran into [Homeowner’s Son] in the driveway. He was working on his truck. He asked me for a jump, but I didn’t have any jumper cables.”

Husband: “I heard. He threw a fit to [Homeowner] that you’re bragging that your car works. He then threw a fit that you’re blocking the driveway and he can’t get out. He wants you to start parking up against the front door to our apartment.”

Me: “On the porch? What about [Homeowner]’s car? Or yours? His truck doesn’t even run.”

(It’s a very large driveway, with two entrances; it curves around the front of the house and then into the back. I’ve been parking in the same spot for almost ten months.)

Husband: “Yeah. Nothing said about that.”

(I continue parking where I always have. Another time:)

Husband: “[Homeowner’s Son’s Girlfriend] complained that she could hear inappropriate sounds coming from our bedroom the other night.”

Me: “But we just got back from [vacation] last night. Nobody was here.”

Husband: “I know. [Homeowner] called her out on it, and she got upset and ran off.”

(A few weeks later, I’ve picked up a box of a dozen donuts on my way home. As I’m unlocking my door, the son and girlfriend come outside and see me. As I get the door open, I wave hello, smile, then head inside, closing the door behind me.)

Husband: “[Homeowner’s Son] and his girlfriend threw a tantrum to [Homeowner], saying that you’re being unneighborly and rude. They said you bragged about your donuts, then didn’t invite them in to have any.”

Me: “Gee, I wonder why.”

(Nothing ever comes of their complaints.)