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This is a question Terrible Parenting

My parents used to lock my brother, sister and I in the car while they went to the pub for a "quick one" after work. This quick one might last several hours, during which they would send bottles of Indian Tonic Water to us by way of refreshment.

On one particularly cold evening, bored stupid, we lit a small bonfire on the back seat of the car using the cigarette lighter and the contents of the glove box. We owe our lives to passing winos. (BTW: Please no more Maddie or Jesus gags, they've been done.)

(, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 9:47)
Pages: Latest, 21, 20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Girlfriends Mum
My girlfriends mum is divorced and has bipolar disorder. Now she is by no means poor, makes ~£45k a year so what i'm about to tell you really shouldn't happen.

She steals the details of her daughter's account numbers and without even saying anything will buy say something worth £500. My girlfriend only finds out when she checks her balance and BANG -£300 into her overdraft and she thinks its fraud.

She takes her credit card as well, uses it then doesn't tell her until she starts getting letters through demanding payment because her mum has gone through the bloody credit limit. On top of it my girlfriend is just a poor student so she never has and money anyway, she just steals her overdraft.

It's not even for important stuff either, she buys TV's and crap like that on her account. Often when she asks her mum for the money, her mum denies that she took any, or that it was only half that. So my girlfriend has to print a statement out and prove to her mum where she has basically taken her money.

Her Mum just went on holiday, and took my girlfriends credit card with her "just in case", so i told her to cancel her credit card (which shes done). Few days ago they get a letter through from the debt collectors saying her little brothers paypal account has to be payed immediately because her mum used it months ago without telling him.

Tell you what, shes going to destroy their credit rating.
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 11:36, Reply)
Thanks to Reallywittyname and Frankspencer
for lightening the tone of the qotw in a way only you can!

A couple of months back I was at my Mum's, she's calmed down alot in her old age, we were having a barbecue and I was about to pour soft drinks for my little brother and my daughter. Fearing the lemonade bottle may erupt in my face, as they often seem to do, I loosened the cap slooooowly.

"Don't do it like that!" My mum said.

"Why not?" I replied.

"Because you’ll let all the gas out!"

I looked at her, she stared back at me sternly.

I got half my genes from this woman.
I'm screwed.
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 11:31, Reply)
Do you not mean "martial" bed?

(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 11:24, Reply)
My Dad had a mean temper.. he once broke my mothers collarbone with a headboard from their marital bed (not quite sure what they were arguing about.. but a friggin headboard? jeez.. what happened to smashing a lamp on the wall melodramatically) Well anyway after mum left him (yay mum) we didn't really see too much of him. He got away with paying little no child maintainence when we were growing up by having us over for a week or so every year. These were terrifying weeks - Often there would be 5 or 6 of us kids just huddled in the backyard or walking for hours just to get out of the house as he smashed stuff and roared like some kind of neanderthal hulk. He would sometimes grab the nearest kid and throw them into a wall or something to alleviate his rage (there was a big pile of cushions in the lounge which I was thrown onto by my throat - thoughtful no?)

One memorable moment is when we were at the markets and my brother was having a tense conversation with him when he suddenly lashed out and punched him several times in the face. I yelled out stop it you cunt! ( I was 8 at the time and had little knowledge of what cunt actually meant) so he called me a fat shit and punched me in the chest before returning his attention to my brother (I was a fatty to be fair) hehe.

He is a rich lawyer now though so milk him for the cash every year or so when we see him. He had bowel cancer a little while ago (which he got over unfortuntely).. all I could think of when I heard the news was, I wonder what my inheritance will be if he dies? - a sad reflection on our relationship.

Also when I was 10 one of my sisters killed herself - because of him I still think to this day. Anyway he came over to view the body and I saw him crying and he tried to hug me. He must have seen me smirking at him crying - ironic given that he caused my sister's depression which led to her topping herself.. he knows.
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 11:15, Reply)
my parents
where Fred and Rose west i win
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 11:10, Reply)
I feel some Python coming on...
Aye, very passable, that, very passable bit of risotto.
Nothing like a good glass of Château de Chasselas, eh, Josiah?
You're right there, Obadiah.
Who'd have thought thirty year ago we'd all be sittin' here drinking Château de Chasselas, eh?
In them days we was glad to have the price of a cup o' tea.
A cup o' cold tea.
Without milk or sugar.
Or tea.
In a cracked cup, an' all.
Oh, we never had a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled up newspaper.
The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.
But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor.
Because we were poor. My old Dad used to say to me, "Money doesn't buy you happiness, son".
Aye, 'e was right.
Aye, 'e was.
I was happier then and I had nothin'. We used to live in this tiny old house with great big holes in the roof.
House! You were lucky to live in a house! We used to live in one room, all twenty-six of us, no furniture, 'alf the floor was missing, and we were all 'uddled together in one corner for fear of falling.
Eh, you were lucky to have a room! We used to have to live in t' corridor!
Oh, we used to dream of livin' in a corridor! Would ha' been a palace to us. We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip. We got woke up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House? Huh.
Well, when I say 'house' it was only a hole in the ground covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us.
We were evicted from our 'ole in the ground; we 'ad to go and live in a lake.
You were lucky to have a lake! There were a hundred and fifty of us living in t' shoebox in t' middle o' road.
Cardboard box?
You were lucky. We lived for three months in a paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six in the morning, clean the paper bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down t' mill, fourteen hours a day, week-in week-out, for sixpence a week, and when we got home our Dad would thrash us to sleep wi' his belt.
Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at six o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of 'ot gravel, work twenty hour day at mill for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would thrash us to sleep with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!
Well, of course, we had it tough. We used to 'ave to get up out of shoebox at twelve o'clock at night and lick road clean wit' tongue. We had two bits of cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at mill for sixpence every four years, and when we got home our Dad would slice us in two wit' bread knife.
Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah.
And you try and tell the young people of today that ..... they won't believe you.
They won't!

For good measure.
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 10:57, Reply)
Think YOU had it tough?
Our family was poor. We envied people who lived in trailer parks and council flats. We lived in a stolen garden shed that dad had placed by the side of a river and stocked with furniture he'd found in a local canal. Gypsy kids made fun of us - that's how bad it was. A typical day might go like this:

6.00am - woken up by a plank or similar object being applied to our sleeping forms by dad, who'd been up all night sniffing permanent markers and drinking homemade potato vodka.
6.15 - a thorough beating before breakfast, which consisted of whatever dad had managed to steal the night before. It was usually pizza or discarded doner kebab. Once, we had a hedgehog he tried to pass off as a 'road chicken'.
7.00 - mum wanders in after a night on the game. She gives her money to dad and has a quick beating before finishing off what's left of breakfast.
7.30 - we run to school behind dad in the car. He won't let us sit inside because it'll "make us soft". And he won't give us our shoes until we get to school.
8.00 - picked on and bulied by other kids until it's time to start lessons. Fight back the only way we know how: with five quid's worth of ten pence pieces in a sock, and a brass knuckle duster.
12.00 - if not in the police cells again, we eat our pack lunches. Dad thinks it's hilarious to surprise us with something unusual. One time, I opened my Tupperware to discover a spanner and a pair of lady's sheepskin gloves.
3.30 - If not expelled, run home to see what dad has stolen for tea. More often than not, he's unconscious in a pool of vomit or waiting to be bailed out down the station.
4.00 - start minng. Dad thinks if we dig deep enough, we'll find a seam of gold or platinum. In fact, the shed topples into a muddy hole and we have to spend the rest of the month living a partially aquatic life.
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 10:49, Reply)
Can we PLEASE move swiftly on.
I'm going fucking mad reading this misery and shit that seems to have made up so many people's lives. My mum died when I was 10, so my Dad did the best he could, which over all was fucking brilliantly. Anything good that I am is only a reflection on him.

Now. Something about pretty flowers or sunny days or something for next QOTW please.

And just to cheer up a few of you, you remember when of a certain age, you used to call everything "well 'ard" as in jolly tough, jolly good and so on? Was in the car with me mate many years ago with his dad driving us to some park or something, and he is listening to our conversation, when he pipes up: "So tell me, who is this Willard bloke?"

Short silence followed by much laughter at his epxense. He took it well and I think never did find out who the hell Willard is....
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 10:33, Reply)
Did not think that one through
When we were growing up, the miles of field behind our house were slowly being transformed into Industrial Estates and housing and car-parks. Whilst this might sound like a bad thing, and in retrospect may actually be, as a child, this meant a wealth of bounty lay scattered in the fields abandoned, or otherwise, by the various workmen.

One glorious day, we found a pick-axe and spade. This meant we could start our own excavation company. So we set about digging our own hole in the field.

This lasted all of 30 minutes before the parents of Ste and Lisa spotted us and, rather responsibly, confiscated the pick-axe on the grounds that it was far too dangerous to play with. Thankfully, they left us the spade, so our important work didn't have to come to an end.

It did mean, however, that someone was now going to be working on their hands and knees to meet our pressing deadlines, so Lisa, being the smallest, was the natural choice.

Alas, the hole was never finished as the spade was later confiscated due to Lisa being rushed to hospital with a spade-gash in the bridge of her nose.

And they thought the pick-axe was dangerous.
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 10:03, Reply)
You're all complete
and utter bastards. I've tried, and tried, and tried to suppress most of my childhood memories and deliberately avoided posting a serious answer to this question, but reading some of the posts on here has stirred up some things I wish I'd forgotten.
My dad left when I was 2, it was probably the best thing he could've ever done for me, because meeting him and my 3 seriously messed up half sisters twenty years later only proved what a total, CSA dodging, parental responsibility shirking, self-orientated and contemptible twat he was.
Even though, like many other people on these pages, my violent, alcoholic Mother and her even more violent and totally pathetic (now ex-)husband put me and my brother through 13 years of hell. -Which I have to admit, most of was directed at him, but it was still very mentally scarring to watch him go through it, and I was only beaten slightly less than him because I was quiet and kept my head down. Unfortunately he turned out just like them, probably because he was conditioned to through years of being pinned to walls and smacked around the head by a man twice his size.
But I've put all of that behind me and I get on with my life, I do my best to be a good person and a good father, and even though sometimes I fail spectacularly, it's the thought that counts.
So cheers B3ta, for the first time ever I resent being a member of this website. Roll on the next qotw, when I can go back to forgetting it all again.
You bugger.
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 9:58, Reply)
theres a lot of shit gone down over the globe to b3tards.

sometimes i am ashamed to be a man. whatever i may laugh at in the name of comedy i shall never give such abuse to another human or even animal. (plants are fair game at the moment, but not tree's)

Just promise ourselves that we will never descend to some of these levels of depraved parenthood. I know we can all achieve this.

Make the world a better safer place, spread the word. Better living through b3ta.
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 9:29, Reply)
Ha i got that beat
My 21st.... neither of parents spoke to me on my 21st birthday. Nor did they provide a gift of any kind. Or a cake. I love cake.
I noticed the lack of communication early in the day, and went out to see my friends etc, (they had cake) and when i got home i was lectured about staying out so late. It was 9pm. right at the end of the lecture my dad mumbled -oh and happy birthday.
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 9:04, Reply)
Presents Galore
For my 20th last year, i asked could i have a few friends round for a BBQ before we went on the piss.
No probs, they said. We'll get you some food in for it.

And that was it.
My entire present collection for my 20th birthday consisted of various types of meat and snacks for my BBQ.
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 8:52, Reply)
My parents were brilliant
1) 9-hour road trips: No seat belts, two pounds of red liquorice for the children, cigars for the gents and menthol cigs for the ladies, and stopping once an hour for pie.
2) Dad's indignation: "Jesus Christ (my name here), where the hell'd you learn to talk like that?"
3) Our family's idea of going out for fresh air was to drive around looking at rich people's houses and to watch drunks get arrested, then going for ice cream.
4) Veg = canned peas.

I suppose the above would be considered abuse by today's more enlightened parents...
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 7:58, Reply)
Not terrible parenting
But when I was about 5 my brother and sister were having an argument when Dad butted in quite rudely...
Sister "Bloody is a swear word!"
Brother "No it's not!"
Sister "Yes it is!"
Brother "NO IT'S NOT"
Sister "YES IT IS!"
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 5:59, Reply)
Happy Father's Day everybody!

(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 5:12, Reply)
You know that glimmer of faith in the rest of humanity that exists in everyone, which lasts until you meet someone that causes you to think... "Why the hell do you even exist?".

Imagine meeting someone who, on his one day of access to see his four year-old daughter, takes her on the train to London (skipping the fare, obviously) to meet some friends, drink himself stupid and take enough drugs to render him totally incapable of speech, let alone care for his child.

Then add the fact that he was hiding his stash of smack underneath the childs seat in her pushchair.

Then wonder why several members of the staff had to be restrained from killing the toerag when he decided that he was being harrassed by the police and tried to use her as a human shield in an attempt to leg it out of the station.

The poor child just sat there and didn't have a clue...
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 4:36, Reply)
My father
Promised for my whole life that he would pay for my entire education as he had done for my sister. In the Christmas holidays of my first year, mere days before my first university exams he announces that he is no longer paying for my education. This was due to an argument we had stemming from him randomly deciding I had spent my fees money on beer. Even after I had provided him with receipts covering all of the money he had given me, he was still acting as if I had indeed spent my fees on beer. I was about to have to pay £1500 pounds for accommodation and had £500 in the bank. He said I should get a student loan to pay for it knowing full well that I wasn't eligible for one.
On the same holiday he'd been making snide comments about me being a below average student etc (how the hell would he know - I hadn't done any bloody exams yet!). Well I showed him - despite the panic of thinking I would have to drop out of uni, and spending more time in the bank etc trying to get overdraft etc than revising for the exams, I was still in the top couple of people in the class.
Did he apologise for being a general wanker? Did he apologise for making me live on tesco value baked beans for a month before I found a crappy job and got paid? Did he apologise for the fact that because of him I was working practically full time as a waitress while I should have been focusing on my degree?
Like fuck did he - he apologised for putting me in charge of so much money at the start of the year. Money that I had proved I had spent on the things I was supposed to have spent it on.
Haven't spoken to the man since, emailed him to tell him all about my first class degree from one of the best universities in the country and my upcoming place in one of the most competed for PhD programs in the country. Below average student my arse!
He used to spend entire summers when me and my sister were young trying to turn us against our mother. "Your bitch mother this, your bitch mother that etc". Spent a long time trying to persuade us that our mother was mentally ill (narcisist apparently) and was abusing us. She wasn't going to win any mother of the year prizes, but our mentally ill and abusive (emotionally and psychologically) parent is most definitely our father. The fact that he is never the wrong one in an argument (even after being proved wrong) and the fact that everyone (especially women) that stands up to him are mentally ill in his eyes leads me to believe that if anyone is my family is a narcisist it is most definitely him!

If you agree that my father is a complete mentalist, and that I've done ridiculously well to avoid becoming a crack whore, click "I like this"
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 2:17, Reply)
questionable parenting
Oh my where do I start. Dad and mom had four kids 2 boys 2 girls. We were raised on a carnival until I was 6.

1)Dad sold my sister and myself ages 3 and 4 to a couple that lived in Canada just outside Buffalo New York while the carnival was in town. Just before leaving he told the Canadian mounties that the couple stole us and had us retrieved.
2)We had a wildlife tent with assorted animals. One spider monkey that sat in his cage and jerked off constantly to throw sperm on whoever walked by. Had a Chimpanzee named Gus that lived in the travel home with us, acted pretty close to human. My wonderful parents use to let Gus babysit us two younger kids while they were working. A man who eventually became my step dad (Don) beat me one day in front of Gus and he attacked the man. While this was happening Gus bit Dons thumb off (yes I mean off). Minutes later the police arrived and proceeded to shoot Gus in front my sister an me.
3)My mother was the stripper on the carnival that anyone could watch dance for two bits a gander.
Three bits and she would blow ya (Ive been told). She went on to divorce my dad and marry Don and then many others. I haven't seen her in 33 years.
4)After the divorce dad takes us to West Virginia to live with the meanest women to ever live. She just happens to be our grandmother. I guess we were just to much for her so she puts us in a orphanage. We never had a visitor until Dad shows up to get us back. In the meantime he meets and marries a women that may be the most disgustingly vile craziest drama queen on the planet. This lady proceeded to feed us mac and cheese for the next 10 years while beating
us and creating havoc whenever possible.
5)Just in case thats not enough my father raped all four sisters for years. The scum sucking weasel now live a lonely life as a recluse and will die soon but not soon enough.
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 1:32, Reply)
no dessert for you
Not me, but an Aussie friend of mine. His parents always used to tell him that the ice-cream truck would only ring its bells when it was out of ice cream. simple, but fucking brilliant.
(, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 1:32, Reply)
I can't answer this question as I'm bloody lucky...
But I’ll answer on behalf of my mother as she’s not a b3tard and despite the shit she’s had to put up with would be hard pressed to say a bad word against anyone. See that’s the thing with my mum, she had a pretty bad childhood; her mother ran off with her father’s best friend, the shock of which killed her dad. Prior to that, her mum was repeatedly violent and aggressive to both her and her father, as well as manipulative, devious and spiteful. However, my mum grew up to be so cool and has spent her adult life working with kids on a psychiatric ward who go through stuff that, in her words, make her childhood seem like an episode of the Brady Bunch. Her mother was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia after we discovered she’d got a file on her at the police station detailing complaints she made about my grandfather (the man she ran off with) saying he was stealing from her. This had been going on for years and he was too scared of her violence to say anything.

Things came to a head when, after he died, my mum offered to take her in to live with her as it was clear she couldn’t cope on her own – she set the kitchen on fire boiling a kettle and have never once had to handle money. I guess years ago, people just did stuff for her, to avoid her rage and to cover up that anything was wrong. After two weeks with my mum she was sectioned; she tried to kill my mum one morning by grabbing her round the neck and throwing her down the stairs as she was convinced that men had come to get her so she would give them my mum instead.

My mum still visits her every day, without complaint and even now I find it hard to reconcile that the frail old lady I see when I go home is responsible for so much wreckage – when I was born, when my dad died, it was always about her. Even my mum admits that.

But lest you think this is a tale of “yay for Rak’s super mum”, I have to finish with a punchline. As my gran is so unstable, she’s heavily medicated and under the care of a psychiatrist, who my mum sees on her behalf on a monthly basis. A couple of months ago she went to see him to say that she was concerned as my gran appeared to be having trouble word finding and was getting very confused, had she had a TIA or a stroke? The doctor said;

“Actually Mummy Rakky, we think she’s probably just developing senile dementia that may have been masked before due to the strength of the antipsychotics she’s been on.”

“Really doctor? So she’s a paranoid schizophrenic and she has senile dementia?”

“Yes, we think so.”

“Oh well, I supposed the next time the voices tell her to kill me she’ll have probably forgotten what they told her by the time she gets round to it…”

I love my mum.
(, Tue 21 Aug 2007, 23:36, Reply)
My mum
She found me smoking when i was 10. I said it was my dad's fault for leaving us a few months before and i needed to smoke to cope. She said ok i can understand that and started buying ciggies for me. I was on about 15 a day by the time i was 11. When i was 12 she brought me some sex toys to keep me happy till i got a b/f. I remember asking her what the big babie's dummy was for, you cannot believe the shock i had with my mum showing me, glad she did WOW !!!! I still use sex toys but have gived up smoking at last, only took 15 years.
(, Tue 21 Aug 2007, 23:32, Reply)
Terrible? Edge of the seat, at least.
Time to return home from the stay at the summer cottage. Load the car up, me and my little brother and my dad in the front seat because the car is full of stuff.

Dad stops and picks up a hitchiker, which pisses me off as there isn't room and four in the front seat is a) a crowd and b) illegal. And it's a guy, not a buxom female. Friendly enough, and pretty quiet. Dad drops him off an hour later and we continue.

Another hour and a half later, we arrive home to meet mom, who is not pleased. Dad's still so drunk he can't remotely fake being sober, staggering up the driveway and slurring his words as he pretends to be just fine.
(, Tue 21 Aug 2007, 23:06, Reply)
Terrible parenting once removed
This has to be the singly most depressing QOTW to date, and happens to hit at the same time as me being affected by the indirect results of bad parenting, so bear with me.

I am seriously lucky compared to all the posters, with the slight exception that I, at 36, am still treated as a child because I'm unmarried with no kids.

However, not the story. My (newly) ex girlfriend. Abandoned by her mum at the age of 3 - didn't see her again until she was 21. Uncaring father, and a bitch of a stepmother who used to alternately ignore her, then beat her. Despite this, and leaving home at 16, she managed to get herself an education, before meeting 'seemingly nice guy' (actually Bastard No.1) at 19 and moving in with him and his 'rents. Along comes a baby, the a house. 'Seemingly nice guy' stays for 2 years, before saying he had to go and work in Spain for a week. Came back 14 years later, exactly on her daughter's 16th. Bastard number 1. They get on now, but only for her daughters sake (who, by the way, is a very nice girl, but quite obviously affected by what had happened).

Bastard number 2. Newly single parented, ex pulls herself together, and goes on to take a part time degree and various vocational quals and get quite a high powered job. Gets together with Bastard no. 1's best mate (Bastard No. 2). Bastard No. 2 gets her pregnant, beats the shit out of her regularly, grinds her down until she feels she's no better than menial work, and does exactly that. Things get so bad she eventually plucks up courage and leaves, literally with a suitcase and the kids, leaving the house she owns 50% of. Bastard No. 2 (I should mention at this point he is a FUCKING SOCIAL WORKER) then puts their child through a paternity test (quote - so everyone will think you're a slag) and in 4 years has refused to pay any child maintenance, despite earning more than 35K. And needless to say, the Child Support are worse than useless.

A year later, she and I (NotBastard) meet, and fall head over heels. Bastard No. 2 gets to hear, and isn't happy. Spends most of his time with his son and anyone else who'll listen telling them that she is a 'whore' who advertises sex on the internet (we met through a well known (clean) dating site). Does everything possible to ruin our relationship. Comes round one night when I'm not there and beats her up. We go away for the weekend, he reports us to the police for 'abducting his son'. As a social worker, he has mates in the police (sorry should mention I dont consider social workers or police as twunts, just him), so his mates treat it 'seriously' as a 'favour'. Cue the most upset person I have ever met in my life.

After a year of the happiest time in our lives (and it was both of us, there was no faking her feelings) she splits with me, saying that she thought it was a love of the 'want to be with you all the time and forever' but it was actually a love of the 'you're a lovely person and I love being with you'.

So because I'm not an utter wanker (or alternatively Bastard number 3), I'm left utterly, utterly desolate thanks to the efforts of three crap parents - her mother and her two ex's. Thanks a fucking bunch you wankers - because of your efforts she thinks she doesn't deserve to be with someone as nice as me, and you have condemned her to a life with twats like you. I don't blame her, I blame you 3.

Currently spending my days avoiding large drops etc and utterly, utterly confused.

Oh, and *pop* by the way... apologies for length etc, but it's good to vent.
(, Tue 21 Aug 2007, 22:30, Reply)
No imagination at all, or no effort!!
My examples are either vaguley interesting, or so bad you'll feel sorry for me so i'll go for the former. Last birthday, my birthday came and went, (ok, I was 27, but still!!)and I got Jack Shit. A couple of weeks later, I enquired about my card/gift and was met with the reply: You didnt tell me what you wanted, so I didnt get you anything. WTF??? not even a card from my mum and dad?? I swear I keep reliving it, especially when I watched my sisters open their gifts from the parents, thinking i'm last in the popularity contest.

Another occasion is when my parents bought their house and they made it very clear that when they died, my youngest sister would get the house and we would get nothing. Again, felt very loved by this one!!
(, Tue 21 Aug 2007, 22:06, Reply)
Terrible parenting? Try no parenting!!
I think that if anyone knows rachelswipe and has read the countless stories about the bedshitter/twat or whatever other name that suits (harold), he has to be the most outstanding case of terrible/no parenting ever in the history of the world. I've met the beast and he is truly horrendous. If it wasnt for the fact I know he has parents, I would swear he was created in a lab! He has to win it, read her stories, there is no way you can disagree!!
(, Tue 21 Aug 2007, 21:58, Reply)
This has just come back to me...
For my 21st, my parents gave me... a birthday card so dusty the envelope wouldn't stick down, and a very stern lecture on the state of the economy, including specific detail on the effect of interest rates on their business.

Barely a year later, I'm having detailed discussions with the parental units about exactly which brand new computer they should buy for my brother. Needless to say, as a Computer Science student, I was really well placed. I'd used lots of computers, not owning one myself.

I know that this is nothing compared to those poor people who were sent up chimneys, or forced to sit outside pubs for hours waiting for drunken parents. But it's really pissed me off for years now, and I'm just glad for a chance to unload. Thanks for reading, and if you agree that it was grossly unfair, feel free to click 'I like this'. On the other hand, if you think I'm some kind of grudge-holding ponce who should just get over himself and deal with it, then click 'I like this'.

Thanks for watching.
(, Tue 21 Aug 2007, 21:36, Reply)
just remembered
i woke up the morning of my sixteenth birthday, went downstairs, had my breakfast, got ready for school and stuff, then left, slamming the door and shouting "THANKS FOR FORGETTING MY BIRTHDAY".

they still deny this ever happened.
(, Tue 21 Aug 2007, 20:33, Reply)
Being Relatively New Here...
I don't know everyone yet.
So, how great is Rachelswipe?

I must say I read some of her stories with great interest!

Sometimes weird things happen so much, it's unbelievable!
(, Tue 21 Aug 2007, 19:04, Reply)
Seems to me...
That anyone responsible enough, intelligent enough and caring enough to be allowed to have kids would choose not to have them in the first place Which rather puts a stick in the evolution spokes. It's the retards who are breeding like flies and they'll take over in the next half-decade.

There's only one solution. We b3tans must start breeding NOW.

*Imagines how many seconds before Rachelswipe's inbox crashes with offers*
(, Tue 21 Aug 2007, 17:17, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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