(My husband and I both dislike children, so we didn’t invite any children to our wedding and we spread the word that we didn’t want any kids or babies there. Most family and friends were cool with it and either clubbed together to pay for a crèche service for the day or sent us their regrets that they wouldn’t be able to come. All fine, until I get a phone call from one of my cousins.)

Cousin: “I just heard that my baby isn’t invited to your wedding even though I am?!”

Me: “Sorry, but we’re not inviting any children or babies to our wedding.”

Cousin: “You selfish c***! What do you expect me to do?!”

Me: “Either find someone to look after your baby for the day or don’t come to the wedding. We understand that people who can’t be without their children for whatever reason won’t be able to come, and that’s totally fine.”

Cousin: “What are you going to do once you start having babies?! Huh?!”

Me: “We’re not having any kids, but that’s irrelevant. We don’t want children at our wedding, and we’re paying for it, so we can make the rules.”

Cousin: “F*** you, you selfish c***. I’ll turn up with my baby, anyway! You won’t notice she’s there; she’s quiet. The wedding isn’t about you! Selfish! Selfish!”

Me: “If you’re going be this insulting, then you’re uninvited, anyway.”

Cousin: “You can’t do that, and you can’t ban babies from a wedding! It’s not a real marriage if you’re not having kids, anyway, you stupid c***.” *hangs up*

(She DID, in fact, show up on the day of the wedding with her baby in tow, despite telling us via email she wouldn’t come to our “sham wedding” after that phone call. The rest of our guests told her to GTFO, so she ended up driving 40 miles home again right away! I only found out about this after the wedding, which went very well. We have a lovely, happy, childless marriage now.)

I am standing in a long line for a roller coaster on a hot day. A lady takes an object out of her purse and passes it to her teenage son, who uses it, passes it on to two teenage daughters, and then to the husband, who each use it in succession. Finally, it goes back to the wife and back into her purse.

It’s a deodorant stick.

(My dad, my mom, and I are watching a movie.)

Movie: “At college, I got kicked out of a threesome.”

Dad: “What?”

Mom: “She got kicked out of a threesome.”

Me: “You should know what a threesome is. It has been around since you were a teenager.”

Dad: “She got kicked out of Threesome College?”

Mom & Me: “No.”

Mom: “She got kicked out of a threesome in college.”

Dad: “Oh. A threesome.”

(I think he was tired, because after the movie ended, he fell asleep.)

(I am a volunteer at a swimming club that completely runs on volunteers. We have our licenses, but we are not hired professionals who teach on a daily basis. As a result, we have fewer students than the pool’s own swimming school. We also teach more than the pool’s swimming school, from the actual “how to swim,” to water polo, snorkeling, survival, etc. In order to get children to participate in sports more, one large supermarket chain has Sports Weeks, where you can save stamps and when you have a full card, you can sign up for three free lessons at a sporting club of choice. This is one of the ways our club hopes to get more students, so we always participate, and usually, the kids end up in my group for their first lesson. I teach in the pool that is three metres deep; you need to have your basic swimming certificate to swim there, which is mentioned in the rules.  At Sports Weeks, I get a batch of children and adults, but when I’ve just started my lesson, a late-comer comes in with his mother. It’s a little boy, about five years old. I immediately sign one of the coordinators over, because of an uneasy feeling.)

Me: “Good afternoon, ma’am. Here for Sports Weeks?”

Mother: *speaks with an accent and minimal Dutch* “Yes, yes. My son is here for Sports Weeks.”

Me: “Well, the lesson already started, but he is welcome. Which certificate does he already have?”

Mother: “Yes, yes. He here for swimming lessons.”

Me: “Eh, but which certificate does he have? Does he have A? B? Or C?”

(Our basic national swimming certificates go from A, the first, to C, the last.)

Mother: “Yes, yes, swimming lessons.”

Me: “Ma’am… can he swim?!”

Mother: “Yes, yes… swimming lessons! My boy swim very good!”

(At this time the coordinator has reached me and overheard me.)

Me: “Ma’am, please talk to [Coordinator]; she will assist you.”

(I return to my lesson, which was already taken over by my father, who is also a volunteer and saw me talking to the mother. Since he’s my father and we have been teaching together for over a decade, we are quite in sync, so we just take over when we think the other needs help or needs an extra pair of eyes. Eventually, the mother and child leave, and after class, the coordinator talks to us.)

Coordinator: “You were absolutely right, [My Name]; that kid couldn’t swim at all!”

Me: “Maybe she misunderstood the rules of Sports Weeks?”

Coordinator: “No, she understood it. She just thought that she could use this to bypass the waiting list and have her child get free basic swimming lessons. She honestly thought three lessons was enough to teach her child how to swim! She didn’t understand why we wouldn’t allow her child to swim along, and she called us racists.”

Me: “She… What?!”

Coordinator: “Apparently, refusing a child who can’t swim and will drown the moment he jumps into the pool is racism. She said she will write the head of Sports Weeks and we will be banned from the list.”

(We did get the complaint sent through, but with the mention, “We laughed really hard about this,” and a new list of participants.)

(My family has just gone through a very rough week. My car broke down on the way home from class on Monday. Tuesday night, my sister’s then-fiancé, who we knew had done drugs in the past but SWORE he was clean, totaled her car, and when my step-dad went to clean it out, he found drugs in the trunk. The resulting blow-up ended up with her then-fiancé getting kicked out. Thursday morning, we woke up to a flooded living room from our water heater kicking the bucket. My mom’s car has been in for repairs for hail damage, and Friday she gets this call.)

Manager: “[Mom]?”

Mom: “Yes?”

Manager: “I don’t know how to tell you this, but… we kind of wrecked your car.”

Mom: “What?”

Manager: “One of our workers was moving the car to the garage so we could take a look at it, and he had a seizure and… ended up flooring it into the only tree on the lot.”

Mom: “…” *puts her head down and starts hysterically laughing*

Manager: “Ma’am?”

Mom: “Oh, my God, no. I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or anything, and I hope the guy is okay, but you really don’t know the week I’ve had, and if I don’t laugh I’m going to start crying.”