She drives me insane, that woman.
As I mentioned, I would love to turn into my mother. She’s one of the most fun people I know. At the age of 66, she looks barely into her 50’s, she’s been thrown out of her card group for being too competitive, she’s the best poker player I’ve ever met, she’s learning Italian and Philosophy, she took a helicopter trip from Nice to Monaco, just because she felt like it and I have to book an appointment to speak to her weeks ahead of time because she’s never bloody in.
I spent Saturday night a couple of weeks ago catching up with my correspondence. And knitting.

She also drives like a woman possessed with the spirit of the late Ayrton Senna. Only Senna would have probably been cowering in the front seat of her convertible jeep complaining that she was braking too late.

I on the other hand don’t drive that often so when I do, I’m fairly cautious. Okay, I drive like a typical pensioner, but I’ve never had a crash and I’ve never had a speeding ticket.

I offered to drive to Bury Market the last time I was up North. As mum doesn’t get the chance to be ferried around much (she’s teetotal, thus making her de facto designated driver) she jumped at my offer. On the way back, after I came off the motorway, I got trapped behind a lorry and as the visibility wasn’t great, I chose to hang back and wait till there was a safe place to pass. Mum is getting increasingly twitchy and making noises about “just nip round him, love” and “you could get a bus through there…”

After about 15 minutes of increasingly plaintive mewling from the front seat about my hesitance, I pulled the car over (safely), put the handbrake on and said

“How many points do you have on your license?”

She began to protest. I silenced her with a raised finger and a glare.

“How many?”

“Nine…” she replied.

“And what were they for?”

“Speeding.”

“And how many do I have? That’s right, none. So let’s remember that next time we’re discussing my driving shall we? The subject is now closed.”

She sunk down into the front seat and sulked the rest of the way home.

I’d have bloody well grounded her for her cheek if I could.

Sometimes I’m glad my father isn’t alive to see what I’ve become…
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:49, Reply)

Snow.
You know you're officially old when a heavy snowfall stopping you from getting to work/school inspires annoyed frustration rather than heart-skipping glee.
(Musuko, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:45, 5 replies)

Time makes fools of us all
I HAVE to mow the lawn every weekend.

I could spend hours in B&Q, Wickes, Focus, Homebase etc

Shoes must be taken off on the doormat.

Use a coaster, for gods sake use a coaster.

I know when my home insurance needs renewing.

The sight of a light on in an empty room really boils my piss.

I always know where the cheapest petrol station is.

“Do you have to stomp across the landing like a herd of elephants?”

I feel lazy if I am in bed past 8am

I don’t watch much TV as it is all “Bloody rubbish”

A pint of beer should not cost more than £3

“If you’re cold put a jumper on”

I wake up to Radio 2

Before leaving the house or going to bed, I have to check that all doors are locked, the gas is off, taps aren’t running and all unnecessary switches are turned off. I may have to go back and re-check.

Slippers are ace.
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:44, 6 replies)

Ikea choice
Well I've not yet given into antique furniture but on a recent trip into Ikea instead of coming out with some funky print, pointless ornament or trendy modern thing I instead bought a blanket.... for curling up in front of the tv (I'd noticed the living room was a bit chilly sometimes!).
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:42, Reply)

Apparently I look just like my dad,
He was a speccy twat too,

Yrs,

H Potter
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:40, Reply)

I have an old unwired bra that I wear when at home for comfort.
I've even thought about getting one of those nursing bras to wear in case I get an itchy nipple as it would be handy for access.


It's all about comfort and ease at my age.
( girlinthehole, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:39, 3 replies)

any time in the south west
we'll just pull into taunton deane services for a cup of tea and a stretch of legs.....

oh dear
(amazinglasercow now sporting terawatt mining lasers, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:38, Reply)

Not quite turning into my dad
but the first time I realised I was becoming a mature adult was the day I realised that I drove more slowly when my mates were in the car.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:32, Reply)

Well
I haven't turned into my parents even though they seem to think so.

Phone call at 8am on a Sunday:

Me: er.., hello?
Dad: It's all very confusing but I've got this letter / I've had a phone call / the car is making a strange noise / there's a strange man / the cat has this discharge...

It's all quite flattering but at the same time, slightly distressing, to think that after accumulating 65 years of wisdom, my parents are now falling back on the advice of a degenerate stoner.
( rofl harris, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:32, Reply)

Barnet Family Women
I like to tease my sister as an unfortunate family trait appears to be that women on that side firstly lose all logic, have to speak continually but without any content or pattern and can randomly ask almost any question and not wait for an answer.

My gran lost it all around 45 years old. Now at 73 she is no worse and indeed is positively on the ball (well certainly no worse).

My Mum and both sisters have it bad. All over 45 now but all the same - and have the same mini-mullet type bad hair (cut by my aunt).

Now my sister at 30 is showing signs of it.

I suppose once you get to being quite mental it doesn't get any worse. Just get it done young. The world is a bright place for them.

And i only wind them up as i am just like my Dad.......
( bazza van der trance , ooh baby baby, baby baby. Get up on this., Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:31, Reply)

Radio
I use my Dad's car to get to work a few times a week. At first we seemed to have a regular battle where I would leave the radio tuned to radio 1 and he would tune it to radio 4 before I next used it.

I've stopped tuning into radio 1....

I also now own more cardigan type sensible jumpers than hoodies.

I've also realised I sound like my Dad on the phone and have caught myself making the same facial expressions when annoyed or perplexed by something.

Now a Dad to a 3yr old daughter myself I frequently catch myself saying things I recall my parents saying which annoyed me as a child.

Yep, much as I try to avoid it I am becoming my Dad.


Apologies for stiffness.... it's my knees you know!
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:31, Reply)

Oh good grief, no
I have absolutely no idea who's at number one in the music charts.

Thirty years of religiously listening to the chart countdown on Radio 1, and suddenly I can't be arsed any more.

I bet it's something that goes "Boomph boomph boomph" and you can't understand the words, anyway.

I also get angry at the poor quality of the 6.30pm comedy shows on Radio 4, and will write to the DG as soon as my wife returns from the shop with a nice packet of notelets.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:31, 3 replies)

The missus was in front of the telly the other day
and I jokingly said: "You make a better door than a window!"

Kill me now
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:29, 6 replies)

Hmm
I’m turning into my father.

Example – Mullered says to father… ‘Whilst it was inevitable, you’d think that one Luke Skywalker/Vader pun story would be enough for the latest QOTW’

Father: ‘Aye son, but the world is full of unfunny cunts… anyway, I know what you are getting for Christmas’

Mullered. ‘Hmm, are you sure?’

Father. ‘ Yes my son’

Mullered ‘ Okay – but how do you know what I’m getting for Christmas’

Father ‘Have faith my young warrior’

Mullered ‘Is this going to be some sort of ‘I’ve felt your presence’ type jokes?’

Father ‘I went shopping with your mother you stupid cunt’

Mullered
(Going back to the pub)
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:27, 1 reply)

blahblah blah misleading intro
blah blah revelation that this is an Oedipus reference
blah blah "and I think my eyesight is going"


As I get older I find sometimes I put less effort in.
(teebie jeebie, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:25, Reply)

It gets worse...
I've recently started up somewhat of an email flirtation with a terribly nice chap I met a few weeks back. We've been discussing stuff we enjoy doing to pass the time of a weekend.

Mine include, but are not limited to;

Watching cricket
Doing the crossword
Drinking a nice pint of proper beer in a proper pub
Fixing things round the house

I also mentioned that while I don't have a garden, I'd like to get some window boxes so I could spend some happy moments growing things.

Give me a packet of Werthers original and I appear to have turned into someone's grandad.

I make myself quite sad sometimes.
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:14, 4 replies)

Back seat driving
A few months back it was my Dad's birthday, and as my folks love Thailand, we decided to go to a local Thai restaurant that had recently opened in a neighboring town. Being the dutiful son, I offered to drive so that both ma, pa and sis could have a drink or two.

I've only had my license for 9 months, but I like to think that I'm a confident-but-safe driver (don't we all?). My mother is, to put it mildly, the Platonic Form of back-seat drivers, alongside which all other BSDs are shown to be flawed, intangible wisps of mere annoyance. She has reduced my normally-stoic father to tears, and has caused my sister to categorically ban my mum from ever riding in any vehicle she may be controlling.

Knowing all this, I was understandably nervous, however I had come up with a plan to help take the edge off things. The plan had two stages, the first being to turn up to their house early with a bottle of wine for my sister and mum to start on. Then, when my lightweight mother was nicely tipsy, stage two came into play. From careful conversation manipulation (well, outright asking) I got her talking about her favourite subject: work.

Sure enough, this topic kept her occupied from the moment of her being bundled into the back seat of my little Ka until we were barely a minute from the destination. Unfortunately the wine goggles were not enough to keep her from spotting a car in the distance braking.

"And then you'll never guess what Deidre said t-WATCH OUT FOR THAT CAR, IT'S BRAKING!!"

"Yes Mum, at the precise moment you shouted at me, I was already slowing down. Now, what did Deidre say?"

My dad and sister burst into loud laughter, while my mum mumbles something incoherent while drunkenly giggling to herself. We get to the restaurant without any further incident, Dad shows off by ordering everything in Thai, and we proceed to have a bloody nice meal. Father and sis drink some Singhas, my mum has another large glass of the house white, and I drink water while we laugh, reminisce about our holiday in Thailand, and wish my Dad a happy birthday. All in all, perfect.

Mother requires more assistance to get back to the car, and then proceeds to sit giggling in the back, occasionally repeating her catchphrase of "isn't this lovely, all the family together". I look to my Dad in the passenger seat, and he smiles at me with pride. I was half expecting him to clap me on the shoulder and say "Well done, son, she won't bother us on this journey!", but he settled for the contented grin.

I match his smile, slip the car into 1st, and pull smoothly out of the car park. My sister starts babbling on about what's happening in her life, and I summarily start to rib her about her new boyfriend (as all brothers are required to do). The atmosphere in the car was full of love, warmth and happiness. If anybody was watching us, they would have been compelled to say "aww, bless, there goes the perfect family!". We could have been in a Bisto advert.

It wasn't meant to last.

"So sis, when are we going to meet this new fella of yours?"
"Oh, he's thinking of coming ove-MIND THAT FUCKING CAR! HE'S TURNING OFF THE OH FUCK I'M TURNING INTO MUM!"

Complete and utter bedlam broke out within the confines of my Ka. Dad had tears of laughter streaming down his face, clutching his sides as if a Giger creation were about to burst out. My sister was alternating between laughing and wailing uncontrollably. Mother, rudely awoken from her slumber, joins in the raucous merriment, before asking why we were all laughing.

Me? I nearly ploughed the car off the road.

There is always a master and an apprentice.
( Labia Majora You keep on talking but it makes no sense at all, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:13, 12 replies)

That's not music...
...that's just noise.

I've said it more than once and I'm not proud.
( Joe Scaramanga with a G-double-O-D vibration, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:13, 1 reply)

More evidence.
I want a shed. I don't know why I want a shed, I don't have the space for a shed, nor if all goes according to plan, will I need a shed for the forseeable.

Yet still, I want one.

I can only assume this is down to male territorial behaviour rather than anything parent-related. I hope.

*Zaps off to look at sheds on the B&Q website*
( jim_bob can herd cats., Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:12, 14 replies)

I almost turned in to my father by following his same mistakes
but i was saved at the last minute and we both found salvation. I still lost my hand in the process though :(

Luke.

EDIT: EPIC mindpiss
( Victor Meldrew, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:09, 1 reply)

I realise that this may sound very chavvy….. Family Brawl!
I remember the exact moment that I realised I was turning into my Dad. I was down his local at the time (Not my kind of place- I refuse to hang around places like that) he was sat with a mate of his, some old bloke who he once worked for or something but anywhoo they took a quick disliking to me and my ways. One thing led to another and we started having a bit of an argument. It quickly came to blows between me and my dad while his mate watched (I was young and hot-headed and my dad was a grumpy old twat who had left me in foster care since birth so I would make his life hell at every opportunity I had).

It was only after I gave him a bit of a pasting that my dad’s mate decided to voice his opinion and tell me that I was just like my dad.

I stopped what I was doing and realised he was right, I was even starting to look like him thanks to my previous scars etc. I realise that I didn’t want to be that kind of bloke and stopped. The old twat (My dads mate not my dad) then took his chance and started to lay into me, but thankfully my old dad realised he was being a bit of a prat and picked up his now ex best mate and lobbed him down a well.

Sadly my dad died from this and I took him back to Endor and burned his remains
(mon bison powered by magnets, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:09, 2 replies)

Not at all like my Dad...
I mean, okay I drive an old Citroën (as did he) which I have both the Haynes manual and factory workshop manual for (as did he), and a box of tools and spares in the boot (as did he) which I know how to use (as did he).

He drove a Y-reg GSA, I drive an F-reg CX. Not in the least bit similar.
(gordonjcp, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:08, Reply)

Radio 4
is now ace. 20 years ago? SHIT.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:07, 3 replies)

...
First year of uni was spent doing a course I wasn't enojoying, and clubbing as often as possible, trying drugs, blah blah blah.

Second year I'd changed courses, to photography [which I love], which is also something my dad does a lot of.
Clubbing nights are now few and far between, and drugs... what are they?? I can't deal with the come down.
Drink on the other hand... obviously I'm just like my father and enjoy swigging wine by the bottle.

I'd rather go out for a day at a museum or art gallery than go the cinema. And I'd rather read a history book than watch tv.

Yep, I'm officially a female version of my father. And I'm only 21, while he is 60. Brilliant.

POP goes mah cherry on here.
(Little Miss Vivica, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:07, Reply)

I still don't think of myself as like my father in to many ways but...
...I have BBC News on for at least 2 hours a day, I hate the Labour government and all they stand for, I make people take their shoes off in my flat, I organise my DVDs by genre then title and my books by author then title, I groan when I stand up, I groan when I sit down, I think local newspapers are a waste of time and money, Children are an annoyance and I think my darling mother is a bit of a manipulative cunt.

All I need now is to shrink 5 inches, put on 5 stone and lose all my hair. I'm only 33 for fucks sake - I'm going to die alone unless I start dating women born in the 60's.
(Uncle Jumbo will strip for pocket change (and/or Gin), Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:07, Reply)

It's worrying
Recently started listening to Radio 2 all day
Look forward to watching Question Time
Three vertebrae in my spine have had to be fused together & I now make old man noises everytime I get up from my sofa.
I am afraid to go to nightclubs & am in bed by 10pm most nights.
I grow tomatoes, compare the state of my lawn with my 50ish neighbour & I am already wondering when it will be ok to put hanging baskets out without worrying about frost.
Am sure I am starting to get gout.

I am 35.
(lkjshaglkasjdhglkhjz lkcvl; g;aodh;owih, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:06, Reply)

My dad's a bit of a pedant
I may have inherited it. Especially where the word 'literally' is concerned. The other day I was listening to Radio 4, the economics correspondent (no less) was talking about the stock market and said, of some company or other:

"Their share price literally fell off a cliff..."

So I shouted at the radio, "Oh yes fucktard? And what actual cliff was that then? Beachy friggin' head?"

Same thing happened a couple of days later on the telly:

Reporter: "These body-builders buying steroids over the internet are literally playing Russian Roulette."

Me: "No they fucking aren't. They are literally pumping dodgy chemicals into their bodies. Revolvers with a single round in them are not involved."

Grrrrrrr.

And relax.


By the way, I've found the definitve way to find out if you are getting old. Put a mirror flat down on a table and look down into it from above. You'll soon know if you're old.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:06, 5 replies)

That sucks...
My mother asked me what I wanted for my birthday last year.

Without any hesitation or pause for thought, I told her of the thing I had dreamed of owning and how much better and happier my life would be if I had one...

A Prada handbag? A Wii? Maybe a beautiful yet practical winter coat?

A Dyson Rollerball vacuum cleaner.

She refused point blank to buy me one.

I spent the birthday money she gave me on one instead. And I LOVE it. I now vacuum the carpets far more than is strictly necessary, just to watch the dust swirl around.

This, ladies and gentlemen will be why, at the age of 75, my neighbours will have the door to my house broken down to find me lying dead, undiscovered for months, half eaten by my 14 cats. But I'll have *really* clean carpets.
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:04, 4 replies)