Putting The Matter To Bed

| Friendly | April 18, 2014

(I have just moved into a furnished apartment. The headboard for my bed is bolted to the wall. After a few nights, I wake up around three am to my bed vigorously shaking.)

Noises: “Yeah! Right there! That’s it! Uh!”

(Once I wake up a bit more, I realize my next door neighbors’ bed must be mirrored to mine in their apartment, and so when they have sex, they can wake me up as well. Not wanting to hear more, I bang on the wall, and they quiet down. However, the next night…)

Neighbors: “Oh! Oh! Oh! Yes, yes, YES!” *bed shaking like it’s on a bumpy road*

(I bang on the wall again, but this repeats itself every few nights, and always around three in the morning. Finally, I hit on a unique idea one night…)

Neighbors: *reaching the climax* “Yes! Right there! Oh, oh, I’m almost there…”

Me: “AAAH! IT’S AN EARTHQUAKE! WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE! EVERYBODY INTO THE LIFEBOATS! WOMEN AND CHILDREN FIRST! OH GOD, THIS IS THE END! HEEEEEELLLP!”

(I guess they decided to have sex during the day when I’m not around because this hasn’t happened since!)

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Doesn’t Nose What She’s Talking About

| Friendly | April 17, 2014

(I get frequent, severe nosebleeds in the winter due to the dry air. I’m out at night with some friends and I get one in the store while we’re picking up party foods, so I step out front to let the nosebleed run it’s course while they finish up shopping. A couple of people ask if I need help. I just smile, holding my nose, and let them know what the problem is, and that I’m fine, thanks.)

Woman: “Do you need help?”

Me: “No, but thanks. I just get nosebleeds because of the dry winter air. Happens every year.”

Woman: “I can call someone if you want.”

Me: “My friends are in the store right now, and I have enough for a cab if they should decide for some god-awful reason to leave me here. I’m fine, thanks.”

Woman: “I know a good drug rehab center. You should let me help you.”

(I just stare at her in confusion until she walks off, mumbling about crack-heads.)

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Not Built Like A Tank, But Can Carry One

, | Friendly | April 17, 2014

(In my dorm, there is a filtered water machine in the basement. I frequently use it to fill my 10-gallon fish tank. I’m a 5’6″ 120 lb female, but I work out a lot and I’m able to lift my own body weight. When my fish tank is full, it weighs about 100 lbs. I bring my fish tank downstairs and fill it up, and walk the long hallway carrying the heavy tank, when a guy catches up to me.)

Guy: “Hey, do you need any help with that? It looks really heavy!”

Me: “Oh, no, thanks. It’s really not that bad.”

Guy: “No, really. I can carry that. Don’t want you to get hurt!”

Me: “Really, I’m fine. I fill this thing up all the time. It’s not a big deal.”

Guy: “Come on! You have a guy offering you help!”

Me: “I don’t need any help from you.”

(The elevator comes.)

Me: “Do you mind hitting six? Thanks.”

Guy: “Here, let me take that.”

(He grabs the tank from my arms, scraping them with the corners, leaving bruises.)

Me: “… Dude! Seriously?!”

Guy: “D***! This is heavy! Oh, no!”

(Suddenly, he loses his grip and drops my fish tank. Of course, it’s glass, so it shatters. Thankfully, we both only had minor cuts from the glass, which flew everywhere. The elevator is soaked, and I could see water running into the crack below the door and hear it dripping down the shaft. The door opens on his floor a few seconds later.)

Guy: “You should have warned me it was so heavy! Pretty girls like you who expect men to do EVERYTHING for you PISS ME OFF! Now I’m all cut up thanks to you! UGH!” *storms out of the elevator*

(I called maintenance and helped them clean it up. I found out that guy lived on my boyfriend’s floor, and we insisted that he pay for a new tank. He eventually gave in and got me a five-gallon tank, telling me, ‘This is will be easier for you to carry. Maybe you won’t drop it this time.’ I had to stop my boyfriend from punching him.)

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Death By Chocolate

| Friendly | April 17, 2014

(It’s my friend’s birthday party and she’s opening gifts. My gift is a huge tin of Christmas candy. It’s early February.)

Birthday Girl: *opening gift* “Wow. That’s a lot of candy.” *she starts pulling out bags of it and commenting on them*

Friend #1: “I’m sure [Birthday Girl] appreciates the Christmas theme.”

Me: “Yeah, well, about that. This gift was originally for a Christmas party that was canceled because someone died.”

Birthday Girl: “Geez, [My Name]! I didn’t need to know that. God, now I feel really bad. Someone had to die for me to have this.”

Friend #2: “Yeah, that gift is to die for.”

Birthday Girl: “[Friend 2]!”

Friend #1: “I would kill for that gift.”

(Birthday Girl gives Friend #1 a look.)

Friend #3: “Eating all that candy at once would be deadly.”

Friend #4: “I would die if I could have that gift.”

(Others add more puns.)

Birthday Girl: “Stop! You’re all horrible.”

(There’s a moment of lull in the conversation.)

Me: *returning from the kitchen* “That joke is dead to us now.”

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Articulating Masticating

| Friendly | April 16, 2014

(I am eating lunch at the end of a hallway with a large group of friends. We usually have about three conversations going on at once.)

Friend #1: *vigorously eating sandwich* “My favorite part about lunchtime is masticating in the hall.”

Friend #2: *not paying attention, suddenly looks up in horror* “Doing WHAT in the hall?!”

(She was relieved when we told her that she had NOT heard what she thought she’d heard.)

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