Turning into your parents
Read the fucking question! Its not 'oh, my parents are so lovely because', its stories about what YOU do that makes YOU realise YOU'RE getting old. Preferably with some FUCKING HUMOR, please.

For example: I seem to get angry at stupid little things very easily the older I get.
(Errin C, Sat 2 May 2009, 23:52, 8 replies)

I skipped a generation
I'm turning into my grandad. I look like him, have a very similar temperament and have acquired some small ability at growing veggies. Now, I just need another 40 years to get really good at it. The difference is, I'm going to write down what I learn, so that when I pop my clogs people after me won't have to regret not having asked, and learnt, how to do useful stuff that actually works around the garden and house.
I miss him and my gran.
( uncle bastard is twanging a dan moi, Sat 2 May 2009, 23:33, 1 reply)

Parents
I am not like my Dad in many ways, but then again I don't come from a broken home with an violent Alcoholic as a "Dad". I also didn't grow up in a post-war bombed out hovel in Swansea's Docklands, So I'll forgive him his faults, as If I had had that upbringing, I would have been a lot worse.

Whatever faults I have are my own responsibility, but whatever virtues I have inherited from him, I thank him for.

You people who blame your assholedom on your olds, most of you lot should stop whinging like a bunch of pussies and grow the f@#$ up.

Have a good day.
(micmac is happy as a pig in shite, Sat 2 May 2009, 22:51, 14 replies)

The other way around..
...my dad, who's 70, regularly rings me up to tell me how good linux is and how I should stop using that windows rubbish.

He's also an expert on GPS, has an iphone, and wants a Wii for his birthday.

I have no idea what he's talking about most of the time.
(inflateable, Sat 2 May 2009, 22:02, 3 replies)

Not turning into my parents but........
...... just as good.

I am a primary school teacher and the other day I said, with a straight face, to a group of boys who had been dicking about:

"you let the school down, you've let me down, but most of all you have let yourselves down."

Oh yes.
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Sat 2 May 2009, 21:53, 5 replies)

Oh i'm not sure.
Was it when i started singing christmas carols in summer? No, that's merely a few years ago. Or when i spent insane amounts of money for hifi equipment? Nope!
It also wasn't the point when i realized i was incapable of communication.
No, it was clearly when i tried to turn my farts into music. This is clearly my dad's genes!
(timbolator successfully hiding from the authorities on, Sat 2 May 2009, 21:29, Reply)

Older
When I was a teen, even in my 20's I enjoyed the odd drink, I played video games and played with toy soldiers. I collected Pron. I laughed that by the time I was in my 40's Id be settled down, doing the garden and wearing a cardigan. I thought I'd spend hours perusing seed catalogues, hanging around Wickes and B&Q and looking for bargains, just like my Dad (and Mum)

Im now 39 1/2, I still wargame (just started a Carthaginian army and am planning a 78 Sturmdivision force) and browse gaming catalogues. I have a Xbox 360 on live, and regularly play Call of Duty, Halo3 etc. I still am partial to a bit of porn. I hate gardening and DIY, so Im not becoming my parents.

But sometimes I sound just like my dad, and think like him.
(kitescreech still here, Sat 2 May 2009, 19:52, Reply)

I was a mini version of dad now ti'm urning into mum
I'd say in some ways that I'm slowly turning into a male version of my mother, as I'm careful(thrifty and always on the look out for a bargain) with my money and have gotten to the stage where I check the till receipt after every food shop to make sure that I've not been over charged and recieved all the price reductions.

The minute I spot something more than 5p out, it's off to customer services asking for my money back. This might sound like a waste of time but A) i'm one of the 2 million + jobless and B) Asda has the policy of giving you a £2 gift card for spotting an pricing error and reporting it to the service desk - so the grumble can result in free food.

I also developed a slight taste for going to bingo, and playing fruit machines.

Otherwise I personally haven't noticed any other major changes, as I don't have similar tastes in music(Elvis, T-Rex/Marc Bolan) - yet, as I'm more into metal/gothic stuff at the moment. Though I'm looking forward to being an even wilder party animal once I hit 50 (She's out most nights of the week on the voddy).

If people start saying I'm a younger version of my dad though, I give them evil looks, as I spent my youth having a similar build to him (very overweight) and naff taste in fashion - polo shirts and joggers due to the XL gut and moobs. Though I was no where near as bad as some of the walking whales that are shown on the health programmes today. Thankfully I've turned my bodyshape around, and a few folk have told my dad to be a bit more like me physically (result).

I've not yet picked up his habits of wanting lots of different pets in the house (cat, budgie & goldfish) at the same time, buying lots of useless cheap garish tat as decor or turning a garden into an allotment with lots of home grown veg and flowers. The last habit is starting to appeal though, but due to a lack of garden has yet to occur.

I've not fully succumbed to the general old man habit of putting the world to rights over multiple pints of real ale; so far it's over random drink combinations that confuse the bar staff, who expect you to order the same thing all night.
(trainee mad doctor is currently trying to build a secret laboratory, Sat 2 May 2009, 19:44, Reply)

Waistbands
pearoasted from a reply at the suggestion of mr twisty cheeky and pooflake

Waistbands

I think there is a nominal tolerance for waistband acceptability and seeing as I have a pen and paper, a ruler and a hot cup of peppermint tea in front of me I have elected to pin these tolerances down and may submit them to wikipedia for global refference.

On measuring the person ones legs measure approximately 50% of total personage, the stop point for 'legs' being a slight variable between the gusset area and about half way up the arse cheek.

The upper torso including the head measuring from the head down to slightly beyond the hip and comes in at a lovely 37.5% of the total prole.

Now between these two entities remains an area that measures 12.5% of any given motherfucker.

So this distance represents the very maximum limits of 'play' with ones belt line, at the lower end of the scale being plumbers, tilers, gardeners etc and at the upper limits we find middle managers, sales people and jehovahs witnesses.

Now this tollerance scale can also be read as a ratio of lower body to upper body and as such can be expressed as

4-4 or 5-3 as being acceptable ratios.

Now as we are aware the elderly often flout this entirely by presenting a ratio of 6-2 or worse, however what I would like to draw attention to is the reverse scenario typically sported by young people (under 23+-) as ratios of 3-5 with underpants clearly on view and pants held in place in an unclear manner. It is not cool, pull your fuckin pants up.
(The Cats Twat, Sat 2 May 2009, 19:34, 7 replies)

Having Kids
My mum used to say to me, after too many "Why?"s, "because I say so". I vowed, as a child , to never say that to my kids.
Guess what I often say...

I have yet to begin describing journeys using pepper pots as islands and cutlery as the A449.
(kitescreech still here, Sat 2 May 2009, 19:14, Reply)

it's worse for women
turning into your mother means

varicose veins
huge, comfy knickers
enough tea to float the titanic
shawls
shingles
weird old wives' tales
a sudden liking for lavender
puffy ankles
settling for less
realising that the old things are better.
pissing yourself slightly when you laugh or cough

it sucks.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sat 2 May 2009, 17:27, 8 replies)

My parents are late 60s, early 70s.
Between 1960 - 1981, my parents used to buy chart records on a regular basis. Everything from Lonnie Donegan through the Stones, Beatles, Kinks, glam-rock, some disco, Queen, ELO and even obscure one-off records like Clive Dunn's "Grandad" and Telly Savalas with "If".
A thoroughly eclectic taste in music. Then in the 80s, it dried up. They stopped buying records and the car began to fill up with country & western cassettes.

I couldn't understand it. What a complete an utter u-turn.

Last week, I downloaded the tracks from a compilation of Don Williams. I burned them to a CD and now I listen to it in the car.

I feel ashamed that I enjoy listening to it.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Sat 2 May 2009, 15:35, 1 reply)

If I ever buy spiked shoes to aerate the lawn, kill me
Last bank holiday weekend I spent four hours at the local garden centre researching the many compost offerings. It was the incorporated feed and good drainage of the Westland multi-purpose peat-free which did it for me. I then spent another hour looking at sheds. Unfortunately I don't actually have anywhere to put a shed, nevertheless there was a strange sensation of lustful attraction towards the more advanced models, which both satisfied and concerned me in equal measure. More concerned in retrospect, if I'm honest. I'm not 40 yet.

Oh dear god, today I spent an hour reading up on mulching.
( the ghost of last tuesday, Sat 2 May 2009, 14:58, 3 replies)

Old man's pubs
I used to take the piss out of me Dad fer sitting in old man's boozers (you know the type - no music, everyone sitting down, supping pints of Old Sweaty Bollock). Where's the fun in that, I thought? No lager, no chicks, no tunes = NO FUN!

Fast forward 20 years. I'm off out in Sheffield tonight (for the first Saturday in at least 6 months), and I've already planned out our route - The Harlequin, The Fat Cat and The Kelham Island Tavern. Total amount of music, lager and chicks in those boozers - zero. Ah, but the ale is great, and sitting down saves your knees aching when yer get home...

Twat.
(Apathyman Prepare to be underwhelmed..., Sat 2 May 2009, 14:50, 5 replies)

Typically of most b3tards...
I had a fairly screwed up childhood.

Now I'm not wishing to blow one's own trumpet here but it seems that those of us of above average intelligence end up being cursed in other ways. I was the kid who always got 100% in any test at school and were it not for my razor sharp wit would probably have ended up being the butt of everyone's jokes. But I was smart enough and quick enough to turn any piss-taking around back on the person who initiated it and usually made them a laughing stock. A trick I'm told that I learned from my father!

However I just hope that I don't turn into my current girlfriend's parents. She was honest enough to tell me that she'd been abused by her father since the age of 6. Without going into graphic detail he'd also been renting her out to other pervs in the neighbourhood, she said she was made to "do stuff" with a 60-year-old bloke when she was about 12.

Of course when it all came to light social services investigated and did nothing, "not enough evidence". She went to live with her mum when she was 14 - only to have her mum's new partner start on her as well.

Her mum refused to believe any of the allegations, she made several suicide attempts (fortunately not successful) before me and her met.

Her mum even rang me once and told me "don't listen to a word that lying little cow says, she's just after attention". I know she's telling the truth though, there's too many things that happened.

Turning into my parents would be bad (my dad used to drive an Audi A4... I drive... guess? ... my mum goes line dancing and listens to country & western music, I don't go line dancing but I like country music!). But turning into her parents would be tragic.

She says she wants to move in with me as soon as she's finished at college, we've talked about kids, her exact words were "I'm not going to be the bad parent that my mum was."

I'm going to go and eat some sugar now to cheer myself up after talking about that.
(RabidRodent I'm the person your mother warned you about, Sat 2 May 2009, 14:17, 2 replies)

i've always thought
my parents were tight, as they are very, very careful with money. I, on the other hand, spend every penny I've got at any one time.

If I ever earn more money than I expect (e.g. overtime) I don't see it as something to cherish and save, I quickly think of something to buy with it - something I didn't need until then. I'm a musician aside from my day job, and whenever I get cash in hand I can make £50 disappear in less than an hour.

I've always thought this was because I'd grown up being the opposite of my parents with money, but as I've grown older I've realised they're probably the way they are because they were like me when they were my age.

In summary, I'm probably going to end up in the same situation..

But at least I'll have lots of cigarettes and a nice piano :D
( valoukh newsgash.wordpress.com, Sat 2 May 2009, 14:02, 1 reply)

My mum
A bit of back story is required here I think.

My dad is a complete waster. He has never had a kind word for me or my brother. He's also an alcoholic and a drug addict. We cut off contact with him a couple of years ago and have been happier since.

He spent a lot of our childhood lying to us both about everything under the sun. Most of these lies were about my Mum. Because of this, we both opted to live with my Dad after they divorced. I'm ashamed to say that I believed everything he said and thought my Mum was some form of demon. During the time we lived with my Dad, I had almost no contact with my Mum, my brother had slightly more than I did but still very little.

After a few years, we began to see what my dad was really like. We saw him drinking every night, regularly soiling himself and becoming violent after taking E, diazapam, any other substance he could get his hands on. At the time, my brother and I thought we were stuck. We had a horrible mother and an abusive good for nothing father which meant we had nowhere to go.

After many arguments, some violence and several attempted suicides (by my brother), he was thrown out on Christmas eve. Having nowhere else to go and still being in high school he went to live with our Mum. Not wanting to be around when she came to collect him, I proceeded to go out and get completely shitfaced.

After he left, i plunged into depression. I'd always been close with my brother and spent most of my time worrying about him. For about a year I had no contact with him until one day I saw him in town.

I was amazed. He looked happier than I'd ever seen him before. We started catching up immediately. It turns out that when he'd gone to live our Mum, she had been nothing like our Dad had told us. When my brother had been thrown out, he stayed with her for a grand total of three days. She had asked him what he wanted to do, to which his answer had been "I want to go back and finish high school". She helped him find a place near school, supported him until he got benefits sorted and visited him regularly, despite the 2 hour drive between them.

A few months down the line, I found myself being thrown out. A month before my 16th birthday no less. Too old to be put in care, too young to live on my own so the social workers called my Mum. My brother's situation had given me some hope, but I was still nervous. He had at least some semblance of a relationship with my mum, whereas I had none. We hadn't spoken in over 4 years.

The journey back to her place was unnerving. Neither of us knew what to say so most of it was spent in silence. When she finally did speak all she said was that I couldn't smoke or drink while living with her unless I could pay for it myself.

When we finally made it to her house (it seemed to take forever), I met my step-dad, I saw my grandad and uncles for the first time in years. They had all come to welcome me back. Needless to say after they had gone I broke down and cried. My step-dad thought it best to leave me alone with my Mum at the time while we had a chat.

She hugged me while I cried and we spoke about the time I had spent living with my Dad. I cried some more, she made me something to eat, i cried again and we chatted more.

I was very emotionally damaged from all the things my Dad had put me through and that night my Mum managed to help me more than 3 years of seeing a child psychiatrist had.

Because I was 15, I couldn't do what my brother had done, so I was registered at the local high school. With 3 months to go before my standard grades and a lack of attendance at my previous school due to my love of sitting at home smoking weed meant I had a lot to do if I wanted to have any chance at passing.

My Mum's side of the family rallied round me. They helped me with homework, took me to extra classes and generally did anything they thought would help. I passed with very good marks in the end and went to college to study nursing.

For the first time in my life I had a supportive and loving family. It felt fecking great. For the first time in my life I didn't feel completely useless and unworthy. That also felt fecking great.

Now, 4 years on from that, my brother and I have had our fair share of problems. Just as we were getting to know our Gran properly again, she died. This upset me, but it completely overwhelmed my brother. It resulted in another attempt to take his own life, this time it was a bit more serious than the last. He ended up in a psychiatric ward, but with the kindness and care from the staff, and my Mum visiting him at least twice a week he was released shortly after and has been like a whole new person since.

I feel like an idiot a lot of the time for believing what I was told about her. The only excuse I have is that I was very young but that doesn't excuse me in any way.

To sum up, my Mum is the most caring and supportive person I have met. She never panics, has lots of common sense and there's never a situation she doesn't know how to deal with. She's fun to be around and doesn't take crap from anyone.

I'm 20 now and have a baby of my own on the way. If I become even something close to being like her then I know that my little boy will grow up happy and healthy.

no apologies for length, it's awesome!
(panda_sam, Sat 2 May 2009, 13:24, 5 replies)

Since I became a parent...
I have used the following phrases:

"How many times do I have to tell you?"
"I'll give you something to cry about in a minute."
"Why can't you behave?"
"Why don't you listen?"
"Put your shoes on NOW."
"No, you can't watch telly because it's dinner time."
"I'm not telling you again."
"Oh, just be quiet."
"Be careful!"
"What do you say?" (expecting either "please" or "sorry")
"Leave your brother alone."

Any of this sound familiar? It does to me...

[EDIT: I missed out a few, including, "and I thought you were [X] years old..."]
( Sonic the Hedgetrimmer doesn't care what you think, Sat 2 May 2009, 13:09, 5 replies)

Divorce
Always said I would get married to a lovely girl, have a house, two super children.
Did all that, all going fine, until the bitch left, twice!

Now I have the house, two super children and an 'absolute' arriving on the 2nd of June.

And if she thinks she is getting her slutty hands on either the house or my children she can .....
(Suck it and Sea, Sat 2 May 2009, 12:34, Reply)

Musical Tastes
Both my parents have different tastes in music, which is normal, I guess. However, they both enjoy music which I suppose they shouldn't really.

My dad is white and was brought up in North West London during the 60s and 70s. You would expect him to be a fan of the Rolling Stones, Led Zep, that sort of thing. What he actually does enjoy, to the point of madness, is 1930's American Blues. This I can accept, it's barely a stones throw away from classic rock. I'm fairly sure it's a widely enjoyed variation of music, and I do enjoy a bit of it now and again. As an aside, at work, where everyone had photos of their families up, my dad had one of Robert Johnson. To be fair though, if you sell your soul to the devil, you will have a good story.

On the other hand, my mother, who is also white, and grew up in West London during the 50s and 60s started off on the right tracks. She saw the Beatles and screamed at the 4 Liverpudlians, probably hoping to shag one or more of them. However, her musical tastes have changed to something that is so ridiculous, even my collection of German Hip-Hop doesn't quite match. The music I am referring to is, of course, Cajun. For those of you who don't know what it is, it originated from Louisiana, USA in the late 18th Century. Now imagine County and Western, but the only three instruments you can use are a fiddle, accordion and a triangle. After this, start singing, nay, wailing, in French. Honest to God, it sounds like brain death. The day I start thinking, "Hmmm, not too bad", is the day I was someone to stab me in the ears.

Length? Well the amount of wailing just proves that it's not the length, it's how you use it.
(Martin1337 was trying and failing to be funny at, Sat 2 May 2009, 12:34, 1 reply)

Battering my liver
I remember taking the piss out of my parents for being drunk when I was around 7 (I started mickey-taking at a young age) now, I drink the same tipple as both of them, fall down the ame flight of stairs, argue aboout politics while making absolutely no sense about the green party's policies...and ending up in bed with people I shouldn't.

22 years old now, am I stuck like this for life :S
(trippeh, Sat 2 May 2009, 12:30, Reply)

41 today. Bugger!
The thing that's most likely to put a bee in my bonnet, these days, is noise.

Example: if I go out with a bunch of people to somewhere noisy, and the people I am with are talking more quietly than the background noise, I can't hear them - yet, if they talk more loudly, that increases the overall noise level in the room. So, how does this happen? I've started paying more attention to acoustics, noting how the wrong material or angles of the ceiling can bounce voices back at the speakers, forcing them to raise their voices further. It's also dependent on frequency, and I've found I get better results if I raise the pitch of my voice above its usual rumble, since bass frequencies require more energy to produce for a given volume, yet they can get muddied by reflection ... the variable frequency transmissivities of various materials also explain why it's a bad idea to slam a door or play bass-heavy music at 4AM if you live in a block of flats like I do. These kids today have no sense of the levels of noise that it's safe to make, probably because they're all half-deaf from too many hours skanking to banging Drill 'N Bass while tripping on E ...

... and so on, and so on. It's like I've become a geriatric nerd about all the things that can annoy people. Crap.
( bnt what, me worry?, Sat 2 May 2009, 12:19, 6 replies)

The kids are alright
Around my brother's house the other day, I was trying to entertain my niece. Without fail, I found that I ended up just reciting the same things my mother had said/sung to me all those years ago...

This little piggy went to market
This little piggy stayed at home
This little piggy had roast beef
This little piggy had none
And THIS little piggy went "wee wee wee"... and started a pandemic.

Topical jokes are wasted on 2-year-olds.
( TheMagicDwarf is back like ballroom dancing, Sat 2 May 2009, 11:39, Reply)

Spit'n'polish
I swore from an early age that I'd never, ever do what my mum used to do to me, which was to spit in a tissue ('moisten' as she called it) and scrub my mucky face in public.

Horrid! Yuck! The 'soggy sandpaper' dragging your face clean... The smell and feel of her saliva drying on my face...the humiliation! For the love of God, why couldn't she just lick my face clean like any other animal?

Possibly my earliest 'future-parental' value: When I'm a dad, I'll never do this to my kids.

And I didn't! For a fledgling parent, it gave me a confidence-boosting, satisfying, affirming, and slightly smug I'm-not-my-parents feeling every time I didn't do it.
It lasted right up until the time when they were finally toilet trained and I suddenly found myself without a ready supply of wet wipes.

Then I thought: fuck it. *ptui* *scrubscrubscrub*

But fortunately by then I was a much more confident, satisfied, affirmative and smug parent. So, win!
(CADmonkey rollllllllled another one, just like the other one, Sat 2 May 2009, 11:22, Reply)

36 on monday (Star wars day! I WIN!)
and i was drunk at 8:30am today (saturday) giggling and in SL. i was listening to folk (fuck ya if ya think that makes you old, though i defend yer right to say it sucks) but planning on streaming Drum and Bass from a gig into the metaverse.

the MOMENT i find myself doing something that could be deemed aged i crank up MSI and bouce about shouting. better than SAGA vitamins :D

my dad nevr grew up tho so i guess i am like him... hell! i'm going to have to get a proper job and a greenhouse. rebellion is so hard these days :/

and i work with a guy who told me i should grow up.. he's 24 ffs. and wears beige. BEIGE! who CHOOSES beige as a colour?! "hmm the colour of clothing that best represents my inner self is brown.. maybe beige.. yes. i think beige"

/beige rants
(DreddPirateBob has watched every scifi film ever on, Sat 2 May 2009, 10:54, 2 replies)

Well
I am not like either of them in the manner of inheriting specific idiosyncratic behaviour patterns. But I do have my own distinct version of them.

For example my dad is a typical working class scouse labourer, and talks like it. I have inherited the accent (much to my annoyance) but I use it to sound as pretentious/middle class as possible.

He uses the typical "dad jokes" a stock of set phrases which are quite frankly unfunny to the point of absurdity. I haven't inherited any of his jokes, but I have a stock repertoire of my own

Examples when offered sugar he says "No ta; I'm sweet enough" I respond "do do do do, nahhhhh honey honey" Only works with females, calling strange men "honey honey" is generally not advised.

Another is whenever I catch myself whistling I exclaim "the kettle must have boiled" regardless of proximity to a kettle.

As a teen/in his 20s he had a freddie mercury tache, with no beard. As teen I have a big beard, but shave my moustache.

He is barely literate, several (albeit unqualified) people have tried to diagnose me with dyslexia,

It's as if I am rebelling against him, but cannot escape my genetic destiny.

Essentially I am a middle aged man aged 18. The worst thing is I am actually pleased about it.
(ste_mc_efc, Sat 2 May 2009, 10:51, Reply)

Christ, you lot have got shit parents.
at the age of 26, I now sport two bright white stripes of hair from my temples, sweeping back behind my ears. If I carry on along this follically monochromatic route, I'll be completely white in less than ten years.

No, my dad is not Steve Martin.
( Grrrmachine the indifference engine, Sat 2 May 2009, 10:13, 5 replies)

Timely question
as I am indeed contemplating my agedness today. This week I have listened to Radio 2 more than Radio 1. I'm 31. Help. Or am I actually too old for Radio 1 these days? I only really listen to Chris Moyles anyway. I steadfastly refuse to listen to The Today Programme on Radio 4 as that really is *too* much like my mum. As I type this I am listening to Sounds of the 60s on Radio 2!
I find "noisy" pubs unbearable, don't like going to pubs where I can't sit down (but I've been like that since I was 20), I fall asleep in front of the telly and dribble (sexy I know), snore like a hippo (like my dad), buy quite middle aged clothing for work, comfy shoes, own slippers, keep newspapers "just in case", ditto carrier bags, I moan about the price of meat and spent last weekend criticising the lack of clothing of youngsters in town - are they not cold???
I complain about poor grammar, lack of manners displayed in public, tinny music on mobile phones on buses/Tube etc.
What's all this about thongs - I like big knickers - at least I know where they are!
However I would be quite happy to turn into my mum, other than her dodgy dancing. My dad on some fronts but not others. My Dad has been a brilliant dad (he's actually my stepdad but is far superior in every way to my biological dad)and does have some fab Gene Hunt tendencies :)
(SpongyMonkey is an honorary East Anglian on, Sat 2 May 2009, 9:45, 1 reply)

Grammar
I have started taking genuine offence at the writings of today's supposed 'young adults', and the fact that their writing skills are worse than mine were at the age of 5.

I also spend time reminiscing about how much better pubs used to be in my day (I'm 29 for fucks sake), and blaming the fact that late licenses are now being handed out like sweets.
(bblgoose, Sat 2 May 2009, 9:07, 2 replies)

turned into and surpassed
I now have a bigger shed than my dad, and a much more impressive collection of bits of wood to stir paint with. That I do actually use to stir paint.
( shavedchimp something something oranges something, Sat 2 May 2009, 8:18, Reply)