I have been going to this gym for about six months now, and I always try to avoid going past 7:00 pm because the vibes are off. However, yesterday, I had no choice but to go around 8:00 pm.

To my surprise, the gym was almost empty, maybe because it was Friday. I took advantage of the empty gym to do five sets of sled pushes. I don’t like doing them when the gym is crowded because people walk through the track all the time and that annoys me.

I started doing my forty-meter sled pushes, and after every round, I’d put my water bottle (a Hydroflask, not a single-use plastic one) on top of the weights while I sat on the floor next to it to do my sixty-second timed rests. The water bottle being there and me being maybe two or three feet away was enough to let other people know that the sled was currently in use. However, even if you’re not sure, seeing the bottle should at least prompt you to look around and see who it belongs to.

I was sitting on the floor resting before my last set when a woman walked to the sled and KICKED my water bottle. I took my headphones off and addressed the woman in as friendly a tone as I could.

Me: “Hi, excuse me! That’s my water bottle; I’m using the sled at the moment!”

Woman: “You’re not using it, are you? You’re sitting on the floor.”

Me: “I’m in between sets, which is why my bottle is there — so people know it’s in use.”

Woman: “Well, you can’t use a water bottle to reserve a machine that you’re clearly not using.”

At this point, I got up and stood between her and the sled.

Me: “As I said, I was resting between sets. I’ve not finished my sets yet. But by all means, feel free to wait until I’m finished.”

I then started pushing the sled one way and then back. When I got to the start position again, she started walking toward the sled, thinking I was going to walk away. Oh, baby, no.

I sat on the sled weights while resting because, as she said, I couldn’t use my water bottle to show people it was in use, so I was just going to use my body. She got really angry.

Woman: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Resting between sets. I know now that I can’t reserve the machine with a water bottle, so I’m just going to sit here while I rest.”

Woman: “This is unbelievable. How many sets do you have left?”

Me: “I don’t know, a few more.”

I put my headphones back in and started another set. She was still waiting. So I did another set. She was still there. I did another.

At this point, my legs felt like jelly, and I could barely finish my sets, but she was still waiting for the sled. It had been like fifteen minutes, and I forced myself to keep going out of spite. She looked so angry and was trying to talk to me, but I had my headphones in blasting music, ignoring her.

I ended up doing twelve extra sets before she walked away. I started unloading my weights from the sled when a group of three gym bros asked if I was done. I said yes and that it was all theirs.

As I walked away toward the changing room, she saw me and walked toward the sled track just to find the three gym bros loading it. I could see the disappointment on her face when she saw them.

The best part is that if she had been a decent human being, I would’ve been done in a minute and she could’ve had the sled all to herself because I only had one set left originally.

This happened in my first year at uni, about eight years ago, when I was twenty. The bus I had to take to uni was the most popular route in town, meaning it was always packed. Because I got on at the first stop, I always had a window seat, which meant that someone was usually sitting next to me when I had to get off, and I had to do the awkward thing of lifting my backpack and straightening up in an exaggerated fashion to show them that they had to stand to let me pass. No problem, usually, just a bit awkward for socially awkward me.

One morning, a guy in his forties sat next to me and promptly man-spread across my seat, pushing his leg right up to mine. I thought it was weird, but hey, maybe this guy had a painfully swollen scrotum or a lack of self-awareness. Or both. Anyway, I was giving him the benefit of the doubt, and as he was focused on his phone and ignored me, I did the same for the rest of the journey.

Then, when we were getting close to my stop, I started the awkward “I have to get off so let me pass” show. No reaction. I stood up from my seat. Still no reaction.

Me: “Sir?”

No reaction. I tapped his shoulder.

Me: “Sir, I need to get off. Can you let me pass?”

The guy looked up at me and replied with the widest, most disgusting grin.

Guy: “Well, sweetie, looks like you’re gonna have to squeeze past me. No problem for such a skinny girl, right?”

Some of the passengers standing around us noticed and were about to intervene, but I was PISSED because, at that point, I had missed my stop, and I wasn’t sure if he was a pervert or just liked to piss on people’s days, but I didn’t want him to win. Also, no one had ever called me skinny. I have what one could call “child-bearing hips”, thank you very much.

Me: *Smiling at him* “Okay, have it your way.”

My backpack was filled with half a dozen library books that I was going to return that day, and it was bulky and heavy AF. Usually, I would have put it on after leaving the crowded bus, but not that day. I shouldered my backpack so it was hanging at the right height and clumsily, forcefully, and (just in case he was indeed a pervert) in no way sexily squeezed past the guy, dragging my huge backpack across his face. If I leaned back to make sure to really get his nose, well, that surely wasn’t intentional. And if he emitted any pain-fuelled protests, well, they must have been muffled by my backpack.

As I was standing by the door waiting for the next stop, I looked back to see him covering his nose with his hand. It looked like he was checking if it was bleeding, but I don’t think it was. He might have had a scratch or two from my backpack, but he wasn’t injured or anything. His pride was, though. He kept glaring at me for the glorious half-minute it took for the bus to reach the next stop.

I was in such a good mood that I didn’t mind walking back to where I was supposed to get off.

My girlfriend’s parents were going to build a house in a new development in a lot that was in front of their neighbours-to-be. The lot was on a hill, so it was in front of the neighbours but below them. The neighbours decided they wanted to build a one-story rancher on the lower part of their lot instead of building something like a two-story on the higher side of the lot. They assumed that whoever was going to build in front of them would only build a one-story themselves, which would keep their view unobstructed. Having a great view was apparently very important to them and a big selling point on the lot.

[Parents] started to build their two-story house on their lot with tall peaked gables. When [Neighbours] realized that their view would indeed be obstructed, they offered to buy the lot from [Parents]. [Parents] offered them the price of the lot (which had increased in value since it was originally purchased) plus the cost of the materials already purchased for the build. They waited for a response but didn’t get one, so they just continued on with their build.

A month or two later, [Neighbours] responded to the offer saying they’d accept it. By that time, of course, more time and money had been put into the build, so [Parents] told them they could still buy the lot, but the price had increased. [Neighbours] rejected the offer.

In this new development, all houses were required to have a two-foot overhang, but many of the homes hadn’t actually been following the rule, and the developers hadn’t been enforcing it. [Parents] also decided to not follow the rule. [Neighbours] then went to the developer to remind them that [Parents] needed to have two-foot overhangs, thinking that it would decrease the pitch of the roof, meaning the gables wouldn’t be so high.

The developers told [Parents] to make sure they had the two-foot overhangs. [Parents] went to the architect to find a way to keep the tall gables they wanted, while also having the two-foot overhangs. The architect told them to just raise the roof two feet to create the two-foot overhang, so the angles on the roof wouldn’t be impacted at all. [Parents] kept building with these new specs. The developers approached [Parents] to enquire about the overhangs and whether their roof was impacted at all. The look on his face when [Parents] told him that they just raised the whole roof by two feet was priceless.

[Neighbours] avoided the family for the entire five years they lived there.

This story reminds me of when I lived across from a “screamer”. Our apartment complex had two blocks that faced each other, and directly across from me was a young couple. The guy would come home for a “nooner”, and not only did they leave the curtains wide open, but they often left the bedroom window open, too. Sounds echoed between the buildings, making the screams of passion sound even louder.

That came to a stop when my upstairs neighbor’s young son looked out of his bedroom window and saw them in action. He called out to his mom.

Neighbor’s Son: “Mom! A man is hurting a lady, and she’s screaming!”

My neighbor ran down the stairs and pounded on the young couple’s bedroom window.

Neighbor: *Yelling* “My kid can see what you’re doing!”

She told me later that the couple looked surprised that their neighbors could actually see what they were doing.

Oddly enough, they moved out a month later; I don’t know if they were evicted or decided to move out on their own.

Related:
Putting The “Rude” Into Our “Rude & Risque” Tag

Early one morning on a city sidewalk, I was approached by a stranger.

Man: “Excuse me. Could you spare a dollar?”

I pulled out my wallet and handed him a dollar.

Man: “Thank you. The dollar helps, but two dollars would help more.”

I pulled another dollar from my wallet and handed it to him.

Man: *Holding back a smile* “Thanks. Two dollars really helps, but with three dollars, I could get breakfast at that restaurant.” *Waves a hand down the street*

Giving him a sceptical look, I pulled a third dollar from my wallet and gave it to him.

Man: *Barely holding back laughter* “Thanks, but if you give me a five, I’ll give you three dollars back, and it only costs you two dollars!”

Me: *Laughing* “Be glad for the three dollars I gave you!” *Stuffs my wallet back into my pocket*