The first apartment I lived in away from my parents was a two-bedroom one that I rented with one of my coworkers/friends. It was a three-story building with four apartments per floor, all connected by a central stairway; in the US, this is called a garden-style apartment. The flooring was wooden parquet tiles — and very cheap ones at that. The management had a rule that a certain percentage of the floor space had to have rugs covering it so that footfalls wouldn’t be heard by downstairs neighbors. Note: it didn’t work, because we were occasionally cited for being noisy when we were simply walking around our apartment on our rugs.

Soon after we moved in, a couple moved into the apartment above. The first night at 2:00 am, my roommate and I were awakened by the sounds of intense love-making from the bedroom above my roommate’s. I first thought it was coming from his room, but his girlfriend was not over that night. I left my bedroom only to be met by him coming out of his room. We both stared incredulously at the ceiling.

Besides their vocalizations, there was also the squeaking of their bed and the banging of the headboard against the wall. It was comically loud, like they were intentionally trying to be heard. I went back to bed, while my roommate went back in his room and pounded on the ceiling until the couple quieted down. This happened one to three times a week; these two were shameless.

One day, my roommate and I were home during the day because it was a federal holiday. We were watching TV in our living room when our neighbors started another round of coupling in THEIR living room, which was just as loud as their bedroom sessions. I was going to go upstairs and tell them about our unintentional eavesdropping. But when I left our apartment into the stairwell, I could hear the couple’s vocalizations echoing up and down the stairs. Our floor neighbors were also at their doors, looking up in amazement at the noises coming down. I looked at them and said, “Try sleeping under that multiple times a week.”

Their passions slowed after that. But then, the woman decided to set up their second bedroom (the one above mine) as an exercise room. I found this out again in the middle of the night. Though her workout music was muted, this was the era of Jane Fonda Aerobics, with lots of high-stepping and jumping. This was all amplified by the not-so-thick floor. I had finally had enough. I went upstairs and pounded on their door until she answered.

I looked flustered and sounded as annoyed as possible.

Me: “I don’t know about you, but I have to get up in four hours for work. I would appreciate it if you could hold off on your dance aerobics until after we go to work. And by the way, everyone else in this building can hear you and your partner f******* like you’re making porno movies. Can you please muffle yourselves?!”

After that, we didn’t hear a peep from them.

CONTENT WARNING: Crass Humor

I was one of several volunteers running an event for a group of kids from a very deprived area. We’d taken them camping for three weeks in a different country. This was all a Big Deal. Most of them had never been abroad before; heck, most of them had never been away from home before.

The little sods were constantly ragging on each other. “Your Mum” jokes were having a bit of a moment in school playgrounds at the time, and it was their favourite way to wind each other up. We had several kids with us whose mothers had died or left — mostly left. They were getting really upset because the others were just hammering them with “Your Mum” jokes.

So, we banned the jokes.

One night, with the kids in bed and (supposedly) asleep in their tents, a couple of the volunteers did a well-being and security sweep round the campsite… and returned to the central building (where the other adults were preparing the next day’s activities and clearing up) with two little ones in tow.

It seems that, instead of sleeping the sleep of the just, they’d been trading “Your Mum” jokes — and they seemed stunned to discover that tent walls are not soundproof. Who knew?

Anyway, the two volunteers basically called all our attention to the matter and told the kids to repeat what they’d been saying to each other. The idea was we’d all consider their transgression, set a firm face against it, and agree on a “punishment”.

I cannot remember what the first “joke” was; I know it was pretty weak. The second one had pretty much all of us suddenly suffering “coughing” fits.

“Your mum’s t*ts are so square, the milk comes out in cartons.”

I work in a canteen-style restaurant inside a large furniture store. We’re famous for serving Swedish meatballs in gravy. A mother and her two children, a boy and a girl, have their trays and are selecting the meals they would like.

Little Boy: “I want the meatballs and lots of gravy!”

Mother: “He’ll take the twelve-piece meatball meal, please.”

Me: “You got it.”

I turn to the little girl.

Me: “And what would you like?”

Little Girl: *Sad sigh* “I guess I’ll have the fish.”

Mother: “But [Little Girl], you don’t usually like fish.”

Little Girl: “Yeah, but Daddy said that only boys can have balls.”

Mother: “Oh, Lord have mercy, that man. No, darling, he meant something else. You can have the meatballs if you like.”

Little Girl: “Oh, really? Can I have the sausage, too?”

The mom and I share a look, both stifling a smile.

Mother: “Yes, honey, you can have anything you like.” 

Gotta love it when kids take everything literally!

I sing with a small band, and we were asked to perform some Christmas songs at the local Christmas market. All was going well until I started on “Let it Snow!”. My accidental spoonerism in the second verse caused some raised eyebrows and sniggers from the audience.

Me: “Man, it doesn’t show signs of stopping, and I brought me some porn for copping…”

Every time I sang the song afterward, I had to concentrate really hard on that section not to repeat the mistake.

I work at a fast food place that sells kids’ meals that contain little plastic toys. A mother comes up with her two children, a boy and a girl. Lately, the toys don’t conform to gender stereotypes, but back when this story took place, they did.

I hand the kids their meals in the fun little boxes, and they immediately open them up to see the toy. The boy immediately starts playing with his spaceship, and the girl looks on, jealous.

Little Girl: “I want a boy toy!”

Mother: “Me, too, honey. Me, too.”