Usually, my mom is NOT
passive-aggressive in the least. (Thank ya Jeeeeebus!) In fact, she is famous in the family for doing important life altering shit and not informing anyone. For example, she packed up and left my dad on her birthday without telling anyone. We couldn't find her for a day or so.

However, she was once inadvertantly p-a... I came home from work to the following phone message: "Hi honey, just wanted you to know I'm home from the hospital, the doctors think they got it all, I have to take some drugs for a while to kill it all blather blather"


I about shit my pants. All I could think of is that she had cancer and hadn't told anyone and now was ungoing chemo or something else horrible. To top it off, none of my brothers knew where she was or anything about the op.

After I finally tracked her ass down, it turns out that she had her fucking HERNIA* repaired and the drugs were antibiotics!

Fuck me.




*that she had had since 1968 after her fifth caesarian section. Christ.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 19:21, Reply)

Urgh...

Long story very short, I'm not overly close to my parents. And this is one reason why.

My mother (And father) Always call when they need the lawn mowed. No other reason what so ever...

As soon as I pick it up and know it's them, I know there's a lawn that they want mowed. Every single time. BUT.. (And this is a good one.)

They NEVER come out and say "Will you mow the lawn." They say "You know, the lawn is getting a little long." Or "You know, nobody's mowed the lawn in a while."

I just want them to be honest and not pretend that they're interested in anything but having the law mowed, is that too much to ask?

*sighs* At least I get paid a little for it.
(Bearfoot, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 18:00, Reply)

Come on now, there's no need for us to lay into our relatives for managing to turn our perfectly innocent questions into bilious rants
and besides, it's not like you give a monkey's cunt what I think anyway, you ungreatful little shitbox - to think I've worked my fingers to the bone, missing out on all the myriad joys and experiences life had to offer because I was wasting my time on YOU. You make me fucking puke, you selfish little groad. And you never come and visit. And your Dad's not been the same since he found that magazine in your room. You've ruined this family. I wish you'd never been born.

*click...bzzzzz*
( grey kid is breakdancing to save a community centre, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 17:59, Reply)

i am single - ha ha ha
... but i have good friends who ...

"we only have one child, you ruined my life by not impregnating me a second time, and now i shall never be fulfilled as a woman! so i shall sulk until i die and never have sex with you again*"

also (different couple)

"i don't know what i want, how to express my uncertainty, or how to communicate. so i shall just clam up and let the relationship slide inexpressively down the toilet if that's okay with you..."

nice middle class girls from the south of england are wrong: discuss **


* only a slight exaggeration

** apart from the ones who tell the truth and are really dirty in bed, woo
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 17:45, Reply)

My Pa
A little while ago my Dad a couple of toes amputated for various reasons. He's meant to rest his foot as much as possible to make sure it heals up. This means avoiding things such as driving, mowing the lawn etc.

This means I have to mow the lawn and sometimes give him lifts (although he is allowed to do some driving now).

His latest thing is to ask me to mow the lawn and when I tell him I WILL do it when I have time, he goes and does it himself and then moans at me for making him do it and putting his foot at risk.
(Mr Slippyfist, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 17:00, Reply)

My parents are great.
Not had one guilt-trip that I can think about,
and have been brought up to take liitle of no notice. Well done Mum.


I've love reading about you people whine.
Moan Moan Moan. Vent Vent Vent.
Its all relationships problems this, Life problems that.

Go buy a book an NLP and get some life skills cos you dont seem to have many.

I've got my problems sure, i cant get past the last few levels of burnout - and its killing inside. Moan Moan Moan. Vent Vent Vent.
(waxdart hello., Thu 13 Oct 2005, 16:47, Reply)

I'm bad, I'm bad and I know it.
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I remember way back in the mid 1980's I had had quite a fair quantity to drink in my local pub and some friends decided to shave half my head and one eyebrow after I had passed out. The following day, I had no alternative but to shave the other half off, which I did.
I decided not to go back to the same pub for a while, at least until my eyebrows had grown back a bit and I had some hair on my head, so that evening I decided to visit a pub I had not been in for sometime. As soon as I walked in, I remembered why. It was full of arseholes. The moment I entered the bar, the chief arsehole, whose name was Neil laid in with the first insult, "Fuck me, look at you, had an argument with a lawn mower?", he snorted followed by a far to loud a laugh to accompany such a pathetic joke. How original I thought. Neil kept on and on and on, insult after insult to the point where I almost decked him until I heard him ask, "..so where did you get it cut then, the council?" He laughed out loud even more and had not noticed that the rest of the bar had spotted that I had begun to get a tad pissed off, and they knew that as an ex special services officer, recently returned from the Falklands War, if I did hit him, it wouldn't be too pretty.
At this point an evil thought came to mind. I turned towards him, I could feel the tension in the air, everyone thought I was going to kick off and it all went very quiet. Neil himself suddenly realised he might be in for some hospital food and he shut up. I staired him right in the face and aseritvely replied, "Well actually, cunt, have you ever heard of chaemotherapy?"
With this he looked as guilty as if he had just run over a child in a stolen 4X4 with big fuck-off bull-bars, and he left the pub very quickly. Everone else went even quieter until I turned around and winked at them and murmered, "Stupid bastard". The place erupted with laughter and nothing more was said.

Will I go to Hell for this?
As if I fucking care!

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( Captn Hood-Butter is not dead yet., Thu 13 Oct 2005, 16:20, Reply)

My Mother-in-Law is a
biotch from hell. One minor event I care to recall goes as follows. The m-i-l had moved back to the home country (Ireland) when my wife was 19 (they'd been in England for 16 of those years). Now, 15 years later we have 2 kids. My wife was having a conversation with her about the fact that her brother's wife was expecting too, and that she would soon have more grandchildren here than in Ireland.
m-i-l utters first immortal line, "Well, you chose to live in another country".
Wife stammers, and replies "err, but you moved to Ireland.", upon which she utters second immortal and indignant line,
"Sure, PLENTY of children follow their parents when they emigrate".

Not in a gazillion years would we. I'd rather spend the rest of my life with Michael Barrymore.
(Redbull_(UK) pfffft, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 16:01, Reply)

Skype
I live in a different country to my parents. Which is nice. But. Since I moved away, they have made a point of the importance of taking it in turns to ring each other on a Sunday evening. Not on a Monday. Not on Wednesday. Not even on Sunday morning. Sunday evening (just after off-peak hours kick in) and birthdays. Any deviance from this rule is met with a disappointed silence and pointed comments about 'not understanding how their only daughter could be more interested in going out than talking to her parents, especially after she callously moved away to another country.'
A few months ago, they discovered Skype and decided it was much better than the phone because it is free but, apparently, the Sunday evening rule still applies meaning that not only do I have to be in on a Sunday evening, I also have to be sitting by the computer, waiting for that god-awful ringing sound. If for some reason I'm not there, they send an email saying 'we tried to skype you but you weren't there. Maybe we'll be able to catch you next week. This is my cue to call them and apologise profusely for daring to have a life.

One day I'm going to move house, change my mobile number and email address and not tell them.
(ellen smellen, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 15:50, Reply)

scots
I am in the unhappy situation of being one of those English/Scottish hybrids (although I consider myself Scottish). The only member of my family who plays the passive-aggressive guilt trip game is my Scottish grandfather.

I like to deal with people who have bad personality disorders by ignoring them or simply not talking to them so I don't have any entertaining stories about it. My sister and fellow b3tan b3th may have the goods though.
( djtrialprice, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 15:48, Reply)

My mother is a killer with it.
She rang me over and over again at work one day (we're not allowed to take mobile calls during the day, or even theoretically allowed to have our mobiles on, yeah right). SO eventually, after about 8 calls, I finally slink out and pick up with the opening line of
"What the hell are you doing? You know I'm not allowed to use my mobile at work, you could have gotten me sacked!"

Kills me stone dead with "Sorry, but I'm about to go in for that operation I told you about, and I wanted just to speak to you before hand, you know, just in case"

AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrghhhhhhhh!

*Is a bad son*
(Celera, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 15:33, Reply)

The passive-aggressive guilt trip
The passive-aggressive guilt trip

wasnt the pretentious qotf a wee while ago

im sorry im from scotland, we dont take it up the kyber or do "passive-aggressive"

we just hit people
(montyzuma, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 15:30, Reply)

Bless my Jewish Grandmother...
...I believe that all jewish grandmothers go through the advanced post doctorate in guilt studies in order to really fuck you up.

E.G. This was said to me: "You could be such a good jewish lad. Why don't you read your scriptures? Your relatives died in Auschwitz for you." Yes gran, all very nice apart from:

1) I am not jewish. My mum is not jewish. My dad was not even jewish. You didn't care fuck all about being jewish when you were younger. My Grandad was a Vicar.

2) You were born in Clapham. You've never even been to Poland.

3) You are only kosher when it suits you (i.e. she does not like the food she gets at the daycentre)

Great, aint she? She also does the standard "no, it's OK. I will sit here in my sheltered flat with my many relatives visiting me on a weekly basis and my youngest daughter only 2 miles down the road. Don't worry about me. I am sure nobody will notice if I die."
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Thu 13 Oct 2005, 15:01, Reply)

As a parent...
As a parent I have this message for children everywhere. If there is something wrong in your parents' lives, if they are unhappy, if they have problems it is almost certainly NOT your fault.

They're the "grown-ups". They should sort out their own problems like adults rather than blaming their offspring FFS.

Here endeth the dull but worthy lesson.

Apologies for lack of gag or dig at Stusut79. I will now sulk in my room in silent, furious protest at ... something or other. I may even work myself into a fury and write a haiku about how much more sensitive I am than anyone else. Hah!

( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 14:50, Reply)

Home from school
When I was in junior school, I used to walk to and from school, we lived in a hamlet, the school was a mile away in nearest village. Could do it in about 10-15 minutes but would normally take over an hour, due to talking with friends, messing around, normal stuff for a 10yr old kid.

Stepmother, fscking bitch queen from hell that she is, me bitter, never :) took to telling me that I had to be home on time as she was going out, and if I wasnt home then I'd have to wait outside for a couple of hours until someone got back home.

Took me at least a month to realise the stupid cnut was lying everyday.

Not much bile and resentment over this little ancedote, thats reserved for the rest of my life she fucked up.
(loquis, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 14:50, Reply)

My mother, unsurprisingly..
Ranging from 'we don't see enough of you' to 'I'm not saying you should do this, but..' - end result, I talk to my family less. Am I happy with this? Oh yes - the less I see my parents, the less they can find an excuse to criticise when I'm not doing at all badly ThankYouVeryMuch.

Oh.. and it doesn't really count, but - people (especially new potential girl/boyfriends) who expect you to fit around their lifestyles but won't accommodate yours, at all. Anyone playing that game gets the boot pretty quick..
(EssY, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 14:29, Reply)

the parents
are masters of this. without going into a lengthathon i was continuously squirming on the rack of guilt til i was about 12. couldnt stand it anymore and realised it was actually going to lead me to kill myself the way i was spiralling down. dad blamed my mothers nervous breakdown on me (not true), she twisted me evry which way to get what she wanted. An example of papas childlike ability to trip me out... dad would ask me to do something, while i was cooking lunch, wait a minute then spaz and storm off and do it himself (he has a heart condition) while shouting about how useless i was and how i was going to give him a heart attack. he still does this. he didn't speak to me for a month because i went to my grandmothers to see my cousins and help her in the garden and forgot to check if we needed any coal. in july. july! ffs! they honestly behave like 10 year olds in mid strop.

i kinda lost all hope for a while, and cared nought for nothing. i think it was a shock for the adults around me to have to deal with someone who, at 12, when they said 'i don't care' really honestly blank-stare to the soul, didnt care. had to watch a straight A student hit the breadline at the speed of sound.

anyway, i learnt to stand up for myself, though obviously with issues of trust hehe, and learnt never to take emotional blackmail of any kind. i now just say "don't bother. i won't fall for it" stand and walk away. its easier and they know no to bother agai. that is how i have tamed many ladies :)

damn happy now tho :D
(unlawful odour i dunno..., Thu 13 Oct 2005, 14:21, Reply)

birthday guilt: worst. gift. evar.
When I was a lassie of about 9 or 10, my birthday happened to fall on Mother's Day. My grandma had passed away a few weeks earlier and I thought things were beginning to return to normal. I quickly found this was not the case for when I flounced downstairs to let everybody lavish me with birthday-type love, my mom dropped a boxed cake on the counter sans candles and said "Happy birthday...at least you have a mother." She then retired to her room to cry for the rest of the day.

For what it's worth, the cake was delicious!
(Girlmitzi, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 14:10, Reply)

Dad
My dad, although in Her Majesty's special forces at the time, and a dab hand at the actual aggression thingy, was also quietly a master at passive/aggressive guilt trippery too.

This usually manifested itself after the delegation of some menial and/or unpleasant domestic task to one of his offspring.

After he would catch us a while later, unenthusiastically and quite poorly carrying out whatever job he had assigned, he would storm in and say: "Right, go inside, I'll do it myself, I don't know why I bother to ask you to do anything, I might as well do it all myself, mumble, moan etc"

This resulted in us feeling bad and then begging to be allowed to complete the job, while he buggered off back inside to watch the footy, can of Export in hand (no doubt congratulating himself on having successfully completed his Dad Skill Number 7 exam with flying colours).

Just so you don't think we were being overly petulant, dad delegated tasks included:

1. Clearing the dogshit off the tiny patch of grass in front of our hedge.
2. Cleaning his car (in winter and at an age when I was too small to actually reach the top of the car to clean it properly - spend 50p at the car wash? Not when you've got 6 year olds and a step ladder).
3. Holding the nails for him to hammer in to whatever half arsed piece of DIY he had chosen to undertake.
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Thu 13 Oct 2005, 13:45, Reply)

Heres another one
Oh my rage..

I once had an extremely possesive bf who did nothing short of practically ruining my life. I was young, naive, and also stupid enough to let him live with me AND go out with him for a year and a half...e.g.

In Brief

me:Hello monkey!did you have a nice day?
stupid monkeyfaced cnut:No i didnt coz mummy wont give me thousand of pounds to fund my drug habit/buy me whatever i want.
me:Oh dear there there.
SMFC:Go to the shop and get me a beer.
me:No.I have no money [he spent it]
SMFC:Oh alright then, dont go to the shop and get me a beer then.
me:Okay then :-)
SMFC:GO TO THE SHOP AND GET ME A ******* BEER! [cue tantrum and breakage of objects]
*sigh* * salbo goes to shop and gets a beer*

second example, same bloke, different accurately descriptive name:

Me: Hello cretinous idiot, im just popping to see my best friends [who i havent seen for weeks] would you like to come? You havent seen anyone for a while...
Cretinous Idiot:No. But why dont you go and have a good time?
me:okay then! see you later!
....few hours later...
Me:hi i had a lovely time
CI: [with scowl] YOUTOOKAGESWEWERESUPPOSEDTOBEHAVINGAQUIETNIGHTALLYOURFRIENDSHATEMEHAVEYOUBEENHAVINGALESBIANAFFAIRGOTOSHOPANDBUYMEABEERGOBUYMEDRUGS.

*sigh* that was also in brief.Being with him for the length of time i was, was the most stupidest thing i ever did...
If i ever see that scowl again i will punch it until it becomes dust. seriously. i feel like punching something now. im taking over the msgboard! mwahahahaha...^_^
(Salbo_baggins, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 13:40, Reply)

I never wanted a second child
My mum: I could have left your father and had a career if I'd only had the one child (my older brother, blond and blue-eyed). You were a "family-planning baby" (i.e. a mistake). When you were born you looked like a little monkey, all dark and covered with hair (the body hair fell out, fortunately). I found an old letter from her the other day, referring to me as "painfully shy". I wonder why that was.
(fuchsiaperfect, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 13:34, Reply)

dear me...
well! i have to go visit my mummy every sunday at 2 since i refuse to live with either parent (theyve split up) then my dad reminds me that the footy is on in the pub at 2 so i though oh well, id love to watch the footy then i can pop in and see mum later on. so i ring her up and ask her if thats okay...

'oooh no its not convenient! she says [despite the fact my sister rolls in at 4ish every week due to excessive partying] your sister is coming at 2 so come at 2 or not at all!'

How come? are you doing anything later?

Oh no were not going anywhere, its just not convenient...

But mum! i havent seen you for ages and i wanna come down, and i havent seen dad for ages either and i just want to catch the game with him, its not like the footys on every week!

Oh well at least i know who youd prefer to spend time with!!

??!?! whatever see you next week!

My sister rolled in at 4pm anyway...charming

I went to the pub anyway and got ratarsed with my dad and my brother ... i dont fall for those tricks me.

My mums awesome really!

Also i think i am inheriting this thing. One night i was having a drunken argument with my friend and the night was generally stressful due to antics of people. My bf decides to come up mid argument and state that he is going out with everyone else and hes being paid in to the club. [ i wouldnt go because i was skint and i had work the next day ]

I dashed his hopes with one look :D

........please sign on the dotted line
(Salbo_baggins, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 13:20, Reply)

It's a boy thing too..
... tis not only the ladies who pull this kind of trick. Boyfriends in the past (and there's been some gems) have perpetrated the following:

Not wanting to kiss/hold hands/ have even the mildest public display of affection, but being unable/unwilling to actually say so or admit when asked/confronted. So if I went to do any of the above, he would adopt a mong-like middle distance stare and let his arms hang limply by his sides. "Don't you want me to kiss you Cuntboy?" "No, no clapper, it's fine..." Just tell me you weak piece of shit! (I have to admit most of my still raging anger at this man stems from my self-loathing at my stupidity for going out with him for a year.) Our twisted excuse for a relationship climaxed with him calling me a cunt and threatening to stamp on my throat. I actually preferred this out-and-out aggression to the passive kind. Not that any of it's good.

A boyfriend who was the master of the hangdog puppy eyes. WHAT'S WRONG? JUST TELL ME! I AM NOT PSYCHIC AND CANNOT GUESS!!! Boys- these kind of eyes are only cute when actual puppies do it. Anyone else (including grwon dogs and children) will just prompt the punching instinct. Or go out with their mates, which is what I did rather than slapping.

A boyfriend who would do favours/buy gifts. This is not bad, but in my moral world gifts and favours should be freely given. Not used as a reason for 3 hour whingeathons about how much it cost/put you out because the only thing you said was 'thanks that's really nice' rather than writing hymns of glory to their wonderfulness.

My response now to all attempts at emotional blackmail is a disinterested "oh well. Never mind."

Predict this QOTW will provke hitherto unimagined levels of bile and resentment...
(clapper, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 13:15, Reply)

No really, Chthonic,
I'm absolutely okay with your never using my suggestions for QOTW. Seriously.

Don't give it another thought.

[mod edit] Phew, glad that's OK. Wouldn't want to feel guilty or anything :)
( Olembe Refuses to write in this space, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 13:15, Reply)