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This is a question Turning into your parents

Unable to hold back the genetic tide, I find myself gardening in my carpet slippers, asking for a knife and fork in McDonalds and agreeing with the Daily Telegraph. I'm beyond help - what about you?

Thanks to b3th for the suggestion

(, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 13:39)
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This question is now closed.

I saw a group of young people hanging around the bus stop today.
I couldn't understand a word they were saying!

It sort of makes me wish I hadn't moved to Poland.
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 1:47, 1 reply)
This evening...
...I reminded Miss Photon that she once requested I shoot her if she ever owned a matching set of crockery. Currently we have two matching sets. Fortunately she's now amended this to "...if I own a matching set of crockery with gold leaf and stuff.".

I'm currently feeling very pleased with myself for getting the vegetable patch sorted out, and french beans and potatoes planted yesterday. The sweetcorn, spring onions, fennel, lettuce, pumpkins, etc. will be joining them shortly.

Worse than that though, is probably the fact that I count pickling and preserving as a hobby. Worse still, is this is a hobby you can't give up easily - give it a try, make a few jars of chutney, give them to friends and family. They like it, and want more, and so you make a couple more batches. Pretty soon they're hooked - every time they see you they ask if you've made any more recently, they save up empty jamjars for you, your kitchen permanently reeks of vinegar, and from about September onwards you're pickling something every weekend. On the upside, it makes very cheap Christmas presents (even better if you bung in a bottle of homemade sloe gin), and it brings the opportunity for fame and fortune* - this year I shall be having a crack at the pickles competition in the county show. The WI don't stand a chance.

* Fame - your name in the following year's programme. Fortune - there's a prize of about £2.50. You get a rosette too though!
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 1:19, Reply)
Having a picture
of me sent to distant family, and them thinking it was an old picture of my dad.

This has happened at least twice now!
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 0:14, Reply)
Dad's Gaydar
Now, my dad's a manly man - an ex foundry worker who's hard as fuck. He's from a different era. He doesn't, how can I put this, have much of an appreciation for those who bat for the otherside. He's not homophobic, as such, he just doesn't hang round with gay people - at all. Ever.

When I was a teenager I had my mate Greg round at my place. Being teenage boys we staied up late, watching Channel 4, waiting for the dirty foreign movie to come on so we could advance our admittedly limited knowledge and understanding of the female nipple - and hopefully if we were really lucky - the lady gash area we were so fucking interested in.

Greg and I got a bit bored watching The Word (how I fucking hated that Manc twat), and - being responsible, mature sixteen year olds, started having a bit of a playfight. We were making an awful racket.

Greg was screaming: "Argggggghhhhh! Gettoff!!! You're hurting me!!!"

And my dad, who was walking past, burst into my bedroom -

to find me laying on top of Greg on the bed, pinning his arms down, stuffing his face into the duvet with my chest... It looked very much, to the untrained eye, like I was fucking Greg roughly up the dirtpipe.

My dad took one look and fucked off. And the next day he took me down to the working mens club for a manly chat about man stuff.

"Err, son... I know your hormones are raging... Erm... What I'm trying to say is... Do you like boys?"

I had to think about that.

"Err, yes."

My dad nearly spat his pint out through his nose. "I mean, do you really like ... erm... boys???"

I twigged. I laughed. "No, dad. I don't," I said.

He bought me a pint and a top notch, high quality, glossy jazz mag on the way home; just to reaffirm my hunter-gather, loin-cloth-wearing, Bo-Derek-in-a-skimpy-wet-bikini-fucking heterosexuality, bless him.

And that was my 'are you a big homo' talk.

And how am I turning into my dad?

Well, a few weeks ago I let my gay mate Chris use my flat when I was away for the weekend. I was sat in the pub with him afterwards:

"Now, Chris - I know you love the cock," I said. Chris nodded in agreement. "But I'd rather, in future you, well... you know... in my flat..."

Chris looked pissed off.

"Oh, it's like that is it - you know I'm a raging queen, Spanky," said Chris, sipping his Guiness. And for a moment I felt like my old man, a bit of a biggot with a small 'b', a bit of an old fashioned arsehole. But, no - I had a point to make. I pressed on.

"No - its not that, mate," I said. "Its just if you borrow my flat in future and bring your boyfriend round, can you at least change the fucking bedsheets? There was shit all over the place, man..."
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 23:59, 1 reply)
Going for a poo
It used to be a rather quick affair. In, plop, wipe, flush, leave. Over the years it's getting to be a longer and longer experience.
It started with bringing in a newspaper, then I started to bring in a cup of tea, next up was an ashtray and cigarettes. It's only a matter of time before I get a mini cat flap installed on the toilet door so the wife can push through meals.

I used to recall my dad spending absolutely ages on the bloody toilet and as a kid I wondered, "What the hell is he doing in there?". Now I know what he was doing, very little indeed. In a house full of kids, dogs, tv, noise and general life....Doing nothing in an empty room with a locked door is surely the high point of ones advancing life. Soon the only time I will leave the toilet in the daytime will be to potter aimlessly around my shed.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 22:07, 2 replies)
I used to get my bottom spanked when I was a child. I now use this experience in my job as a dominatrix and get paid £50 an hour for the privilage. Thanks, parents!!!!!!
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 19:46, 6 replies)
Turning into my parents....
At the age of 35 I stopped playing Rugby, drinking 18 pints in one session and getting my cock and balls out in the pub to delight the ladies with and instead, took to sewing, shopping, getting my hair permed and wearing Laura Ashley pattern print dresses.

I was turning into my mother.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 19:11, 2 replies)
Is it me?
Or is this week's question slowly running out of steam? The number of posts has dropped off markedly in the last couple of days.

Maybe the b3ta faithful have taken up more sedate hobbies, like gardening. Or perhaps they're all at B&Q snapping up bargain paint and offcuts of bamboo with which to stir it, standing in supermarket aisles tutting at the price of butter, or shaking their heads and sucking air through their teeth at the diparate youths gathered at the bus stop playing 'music' on their mobile phones?

Anyway, I'm not at all like my Dad, who at this point in time strongly resembles Saddam Hussain post-capture (it's something to do with a sponsored not getting your hair cut challenge, apparently). Apart from perhaps the taste in music and liking for beer and similar senses of humour - but we've had these similarities for a number of years now. And I would never be sucked into making a living trying to sell crap to people that can't afford to pay me for it when it arrives.

And I certainly hope that I don't end up like my Mum. If I do, I've only got another 6 years on this planet before they put me in a box, chuck soil on top of me and leave me to the worms. And I reckon I'm good for a few extra years yet.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 18:42, 1 reply)
The last time my girlfriend
asked me to give her something hot and steamy.

I made her a cup of tea...
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 17:17, 2 replies)
I Wish
David Icke was my dad... not only a goal keep but he actually belives...

The reptiles' hybrid reptilian-human DNA allows them to change from reptilian to human form if they consume human blood. Icke has drawn parallels with the 1980s science-fiction series V, in which the earth is taken over by reptiloid aliens disguised as humans.

Nut case... how cool.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 17:14, Reply)
Since Turning, Since Turning, Middle Age It's Nothing To Be Scared Of....
- I not only own a pair of slippers but actually look forward to kicking off my shoes and sliding my feet into them.

- Just before wearing the slippers I invariably exclaim that 'these dogs are barking tonight' regardless if anyone is listening.

- I think today's chart music all sounds the same.

- This weekend I actually switched the car radio onto Classic FM and listened to a whole piece.

- Sometimes exchange cleaning tips with my mum over the phone.

- Buy in bulk because it 'saves the pennies and also on the petrol'.

- Have zero tolerance on anyone under the age of 30.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 17:02, 3 replies)
To make it worse my fella is turning into my dad.

Burping words
Making strange words when he yawns/stretches e.g. "yabbadabbadoo" (that's a favourite)
Using any low level of word association humour. Such as eggcellent omelettes...
AND telling me my skirts are too short!

It does, on occasion, make me feel rather unwell.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 16:39, 1 reply)
Intellectual decay...
My mum (bless her) is my best mate, really, love her to bits. But she has such a blonde streak, which she passed on to my darling little sister... and I thought I'd manage to avoid.

She's an intelligent woman, but every now and then the blondeness strikes. Whilst recalling a particularly unpleasant event, she managed to describe it as

"Just like a kick in the teeth with a wet kipper!"

A little while ago I found myself working hard to "keep the dog at the door".

Wolf from the door, anyone?

(, Tue 5 May 2009, 16:35, Reply)
Thanks to my Dad...
I now do the following:

- Say "Keep Smiling" to end most phone calls
- enjoy course fishing (when I've always dismissed the idea of fishing.)
- I Like Bon Jovi, Bruce Springsteen, Dire Straits and Johnny cash, despite having a love of Power Metal.
- Whenever I burp, I have an uncontrollable urge to say "Rubber Duck" (much to the girlfriends Dismay)
- Tell Bad Jokes/puns whenever a situation allows (latest example was at Dudley Zoo at the Toucan cage, I quote, "One of those birds would be a good pet, but Toucan be better")

Although, From my Mum, I have inherited the family trait for all things medical (she's a nurse, as was her mam etc I'm studying Human Biology at uni)

So at 22, I'm already on the way to becoming like my parents.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 16:24, Reply)
I realised I was turning into my Dad when...
...I started sneezing like a fucking retard.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 16:03, 1 reply)
My father was a pretty famous big game hunter
I never wanted to follow in his footsteps. It just didn't appeal to me, all the killing zebras and lions. Then one day I got bitten by the bug and bagged myself four giraffe, twelve antelope, and a couple of tigers.

I thought my dad would be pleased of his boy... but he wasn't.

Unfortunately I was on a school trip to Windsor Safari Park at the time.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 15:53, 1 reply)
Only since moving out of my parents house...
...have I noticed I have inherited a rather odd trait off my mother which involves cleaning the house wearing tiny pants. I'm not sure when it happened exactly but I seem to be helpless to stop it! I always remember taking the piss out of my mum for it when I was in my teens and now here I am, 25 and running around my house vacuuming in my pants!! The worst part is I’m not even cleaning, I’m ‘blitzing’ and that seems to be another thing I have picked up from mum! Dear lord!

I also seem to be unable to notice when things are actually clean too, much to my chaps despair, there’s everyone else’s idea of clean, and then there’s 'mum clean' and 'mum clean' is basically never clean enough! :(
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 15:51, 1 reply)
turning into your parents
I blow my nose as hard as i can just stopping just before bursting blood vessels
most days i would put a indian elephant to shame,
its funny though i only reach the correct notes when im in front of my daughter ?
and if my daughter has friends round i uncontrollably
have to look at the contents of the hanky too after announcing my nasal presence

I cant explain it my doctor cant either , it just started happening
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 15:50, Reply)
switch this shit off!
I remember when I was about 13 watching Morrissey on Top of the Pops with a bunch of Daffs jammed in his arse crevice miming to Heaven knows I'm miserable now. My Dad walked in from work, took one look at the telly and barked at us to switch that shit off. I thought that Morrissey was in fact totally cool for evoking that response from my 'saaaaad Daaaaad'.

I walked in a while ago and Christina Aguilera was on MTV and I did exactly the same thing that my Dad did all those years ago (except I don't have any teenage children). I only realised afterwards that I had done that and I vowed to be a bit more tolerant in the future for when my Kids are teenagers
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 15:40, 3 replies)
vegetables based on quality, freshness and need. Whereas previously I'd simply choose those that most realistically resembled a throbbing hard cock.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 15:31, 4 replies)
My first pearoast!
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 15:22, Reply)
Hasn't happened yet... But im sure it will
I am dreading the day that technology overtakes me...

My dad is a typical technophobe who got suckered into buying a PC by those wonderful people at PCWorld. He also came away with a printer/ photocopier/ fax machine (never used) and a digital cam-corder (never seen him use it... and really dont want to know if he has).

Many an hour has been spent on the phone to my dear old dad instructing him on how to send an email, how to close a window, reasuring him that he hasn't lost whatever it is he just closed etc etc. All has to be step by step, then the next day he calls again and it starts all over again ad infinitum!

The worst was trying to explain to him why 'just typing in free sex videos' into google was a pretty good way to fuck up your computer and that he should stick to the 'reputable' sites...

I hope it never comes to that when I have kids... *shudder*
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 14:42, 4 replies)
I cook apple pies for my family
and they enjoy them. My grandmother learns from me... Worrying.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 14:36, Reply)
I once knocked out Mr. T. with my fists alone.
My parents once knocked out Mr. T with their fists alone.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 13:01, 2 replies)
Quick post; as it's my first it'll be swift and short.
I have an allotement... I'm 28

Long time lurker and all that.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 12:16, 2 replies)
Yeah, well,
I once bought a packet of Werther's Originals.
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 12:07, 6 replies)
My Dad...
The main thing I have gained from my lovely parents is my Dads tendency to start things and never f...

- First post yay, bring on the abuse I fooking love it!
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 12:02, 8 replies)
Lack of ambition…

Apart from turning into your parents, the worst thing about getting older is the crushing realisation that you no longer have a droplet of donkey snot’s chance of a beautiful, famous woman allowing you to prod around the gateway to her guts with your pink giggling stick.

Of course, it’s never really a possibility anyway, but there is no denying the biological fact that, should a borderline miracle of circumstance put you in contact with somebody fit-a-licious, you are within the commonly acceptable age range parameters for it to be ‘considered’… albeit briefly…

This gives you hope. It gives you a reason to brush your hair in the morning.

But here’s the problem. You get older, but the hotties on the screen stay the same age forever, and before long you watch them and start to feel slightly awkward…like you shouldn’t have the horn quite so hard for somebody who for all intents and purposes could be your daughter.

And then it hits you. You.are.a.dirty.old.man. You’re doomed. Fucked.

Welcome to my world.

I suppose it’s just a matter of time before I’m watching Dame Thora Hird, slowly crossing her legs as she struggles aboard a stairlift on a advert for Stannah, and my lamb cannon inadvertently gets so rigid that it could chop the 'Star of India' diamond in half.

(, Tue 5 May 2009, 12:00, 1 reply)
Now, it would've been more predictable turning in to my mother...
...seeing as we are the same gender n' all, but it seems that actually I'm turning into my father.

Over the past few years or so I have become a computer geek, a bit of an anarchist, practically a Skinhead, fond of a drop of booze and most recently I became a Biker, much to my grandmother's dismay (she's just annoyed because she can't drive for shit ;)).

Thankfully I haven't developed his eighth-a-day weed habit, that seems to have been kindly donated to my brother...
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 11:22, Reply)

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