Other than all teh notmal stuff the one I most remember was that My dad hated when someone cutting off slices of cheese carved a concave profile into the block. 
And my mom hated when we put our socks into the laundry inside out. “One of these days I’m just not going to turn them around for you, and just wash them that way!” was probably the least threatening threat I ever received.
Huh, my mom laundered socks inside out. So the water can wash away flakes of dead skin or b.o.
I usually leave mine inside out. But it’s not something I worry about.
Son? Is that you? 
Born in 1955.
My mom hated black shoes (you look like a hood!)
Saying “lousy.”
My father, a child of the Depression, would not throw away any food. The ice cream container had to be scraped of the last two teaspoons before being tossed. And still my mother would insist the cartoon be thrown away outside.
1963
My dad: Any type of bragging
Whining about bumps, bruises or things being hard which he called “petting
yourself”.
My mother: Spilling anything which because she grew up in the depression equaled
waste
Any wrinkles in a made bed
Everything about me.
Not as bizarre as the ire using the word “lunch” provokes.
I was born in 1979. My parents seem super chill compared to all your folks! They didn’t care about language/grammar or manners or waste or dirt or wrinkles.
Only thing I can think of is that mom doesn’t like when an outside door gets left open. Bugs get in and dogs got out. She has a specific way of saying “close the DOOOOOR!”
My dad is really fucking neurotic about trash day and trash bags right now but that’s a new thing, after I was out of the house.