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My awesome grandad flew in Wellingtons in the war. Damn, those shortages were terrible. Tell us about brilliant-stroke-rubbish grandparents.
Suggested by Buffet the Appetite Slayer
( , Thu 2 Jun 2011, 21:51)
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My nana (she will not be called Grandma, as apparently that makes her sounds old...she's 87) is awesome. Best thing about her? She is totally accepting of me being a shirtlifter. From me being 14, she's always asked loads of questions, welcomed my partners and last year, she attended my civil partnership and bloody loved it (though she did ask for chips and chips only at the restaurant later, love it). Best part of all this? I grew up in a tiny little backwards village where if you didn't have webbed fingers you were 'different' and well, tolerance isn't exactly skyhigh. She doesn't care though, and happily regales the W.I with tales of her grandson and his husband.
But to bring it round to the subject I've given this little post, she did turn to me about two years ago and ask me what fisting was. I have no idea where she heard the word given she only goes as far as the post office and the village hall, and the average age of resident in that village is roughly 95, but there you go.
I convinced her it was the name for that little 'fist-bump' greeting people sometimes give to one another. Which, I suppose, in a way...it is. I just hope it doesn't lead to her 'fisting' other members of the W.I.
I love my nana.
( , Wed 8 Jun 2011, 12:26, 21 replies)
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The first line of your story reads 'Fisting my Nana is awesome' so I really didn't know what to expect.
( , Wed 8 Jun 2011, 12:43, closed)
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My boss once used "fisted" to mean "punched" as in "he annoyed me so I fisted him". The three company gays (me included) asked him to clarify what he meant. Just in case.
( , Wed 8 Jun 2011, 12:46, closed)
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So politically incorrect that even the uphill-gardeners call themselves shirtlifters and nobody bats an eyelid.
I love you all.
In a manly, heterosexual, kind of way. With no nonsense and only a touch of naked wrestling.
Cheers
( , Wed 8 Jun 2011, 13:09, closed)
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( , Wed 8 Jun 2011, 15:08, closed)
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one rainy day on holiday (ah, the great British holiday!) my mother asked me what "felch" meant. Aaaaannnnndddd I suddenly discovered an urgent errand, somewhere far, far away...
Well, what would you have said?
( , Wed 8 Jun 2011, 14:16, closed)
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who on earth thought that combining a game of dirty scrabble and parents was a good idea in the first place?
( , Wed 8 Jun 2011, 14:20, closed)
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Then asked her to demonstrate.
We're talking about your mother here. It's hardly any worse than what she does with all those greek sailors every friday night.
( , Wed 8 Jun 2011, 18:00, closed)
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