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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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I've been thinking about my old man this week and I thank the good lord Buddha and all his little helper monkies that I'm not turning into him. But I've made a checklist of warning signs that I'm going to laminate and keep in my wallet in an effort to prevent the fucking inevitable; morphing into my dad.

If my phone rings after 9PM I WILL NOT immediately assume someone's been involved in an accident and start running round the flat in a panic - it's perfectly normal for people to ring after the watershed; the phonelines are not automatically switched off at this time.

If an attractive girlie happens to be in my vicinity I WILL NOT let my stomach hang out and absently jiggle with my bollocks whilst similtaniously scratching my arse.

At NO POINT in my life will I feel the want, need or desire to purchase a metal detector.

I will NEVER shout at the weather person on the TV and say: "Ha! You got it wrong yesterday! You promised rain and all we got was sun!" The person on the TV screen cannot, in point of fact, hear you and even if they did they really wouldn't give a rats toss in hell that they had somehow upset your busy afternoon plans of pottering round the house and watching Murder She Wrote.

I will NEVER in my life sit down for a nice chat with a mate about some operation or medical procedure they've just undergone (unless this involves STD's - which are, quite frankly, funny as fuck, or possibly some gory motorcycle-related injury involving stupidity or the excessive and creative application of marijuana). I am not and never will be interested in how someone self-catherterizes themselves or takes pills to control their rampant blood pressure.

If occasion requires that I wear a tie I won't EVER do the fucker up so the end is a considerable distance from the top of my trousers. This makes you look like a spectacular retard.

At no time in my life will I be proud of my lawn or show off my lawnmower to make other people envious.

If I ever start singing along to the musak they play in supermarkets, please shoot me. On the fucking spot.

At no point in my life EVER will I attend a dinner party.

Before a night out I will NEVER worry that I don't know if the place I'm visiting has comfortable seating and a nice quiet area. I may just as well bring along some fucking knitting and a pair of plaid slippers. And worrying over pointless shit is, well, just a bit old.

I shall keep this list close to my heart at all times - just next to the packet of Werthers Originals and my pipe; the sort Sherlock Holmes himself would be proud to whip out on special crime-solving occasions.
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 11:42, 21 replies)
But I must disagree with you on point 10. Places should have comfortable seating and a quiet area. Y'know, to chat.
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 11:49, closed)
For 'somehow upset your busy afternoon plans of pottering round the house and watching Murder She Wrote.'
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 11:50, closed)
fair play for the most part but
dinner parties are just you and your mates scoffing a bunch of nosh and getting langered - what's wrong with that?
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 11:54, closed)
^ This ^

(, Wed 6 May 2009, 11:57, closed)
I tend to agree with
Spanky - call it a piss up at a mates house, fair enough. But call it a 'dinner party', and you're officially getting old.
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 11:59, closed)
how about "party with dinner"?
getting yer knickers in a knot over what you call things I am too young to give a shit about.
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 12:06, closed)
Nope - I've checked. Knickers definately not in a knot. Just agreeing with Spanky that the term 'Dinner Party' isn't something I'd expect to hear in my circle of friends - but it is a term I hear my parents talk about in their circle.
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 12:10, closed)
Yeah, I can dig that.
I think Spanky is suggesting not going to one though based on his age which is a shame as scoffing and boozing really do go very nicely hand in hand.
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 12:35, closed)
I always call my parties ..... soirees.
Makes them sound more decandent and less middle class.
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 12:38, closed)
If you really want to be decadent,
just call them orgies and you will definitely be a bit decadent and slightly less middle class. :-0
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 12:48, closed)
I actually went to one once
I'm talking the formal-type dinner party things...

The tux and the ferrero roche jobbies.

Felt completely out of place: People just kept asking me: "What do you do?" It was fucking annoying. Eventually when someone said: "What do you do?", I pointed out my then girlfriend and said: "Her - that's why I'm here."

Didn't go down too well...

Don't get me wrong, having a bit of food and some booze round a mates house is fine; but just for the love of god don't call them 'dinner parties'.

Gives me the heebie-jeebies.
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 12:54, closed)
Tux and ferrero roche?
Jaysus, lad, you move in very different circles to me.
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 13:16, closed)
I thought I looked like James Bond
Apparently I resembled a shaved chimp with a drinking problem....

Steer clear of those posh events, mate. They're full of wankers and women who look like horses. Fucking awful. And they don't give you beer in a pint glass: cunts.
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 13:35, closed)
^ That ^

(, Wed 6 May 2009, 11:59, closed)
Metal detectors!
My dad has one of those!
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 12:00, closed)
You know
you're old when you don't give a shit about scratching your balls infront of an attractive woman - click
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 12:03, closed)
9 out of ten used to be good
I only missed out on one, I ain't got a lawn :(
Oh damn and blast, if only I'd had your list when I was younger.

Anyhoo Clicks!
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 12:39, closed)
So far I am ok, but
I do get these urges to scratch now and then.
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 12:50, closed)
I mostly agree, but...
One - I do this already. I'm 31. Although I have done it for years anyway. Well - to a certain extent. I don't *panic* but I do get confused :)

Five - Oooh I dunno, sometimes they can be interesting!

Ten - Fuck that, if it's not got a quiet area, I ain't going!

I especially agree with point nine though - I don't think I could ever be relaxed at a Dinner Party, I'd feel too working class, I hate wine (and hardly drink any alcohol anyway), my wife is a very fussy eater so probably wouldn't like whatever was on offer (unless it was a big slab o' meat, a baked spud and/or raw veg).

If I'm dicking around and relaxing with friends I couldn't be arsed leafing through Delia "Oh she's so versatile, don't-you-know?" Smith's cookery bibles and stressing in the kitchen creating out of the ordinary concoctions. I enjoy cooking for my family, because I don't feel embarassed if it goes a bit strange, but for relaxing with friends, either slam a few pizzas in the oven or call out for a take-away, and scoff it all in the lounge/front room/living room/whateveryoucallit. I just can't be arsed with the stress of trying to create something 'perfect'.

I think my dislike of Dinner Parties (seriously, typing that is nearly making me shudder) stems from visiting my gran every week and having nothing to do except read her Daily Mail supplement magazines, which contained, without fail, some pampered upper-middle class cretin with evidently no experience of the real world, worrying about her soufflé not rising properly or her local deli running out of locally-sourced smoked ham, and wondering how the hell she was going to even continue LIVING if she couldn't slam some pompous over-priced crap into her Le Creuset cookware and gently slide it into her Aga.

I have no idea what the point of this post was, considering not many people will probably read it, but it's been cathartic for me.

(, Wed 6 May 2009, 13:23, closed)
I've got to disagree with point two
I wouldn't want to deny myself some of the greater pleasures in life - letting it all hang out, and absent-mindedly scratching my genitalia.

Oh, and I agree with some of the other points above around the whole dinner party thing. They've all got it pretty much covered though.

*click* for pretty much everything else, though.

*rescans list*

*checks tie length in mirror*
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 16:23, closed)
I bet you million quid
you'll break rule 9.

It's impossible not to. Everyone has wanky friends who throw dinner parties. Especially when they get into their 40s.

/welcometomylife blog
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 17:25, closed)

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