The female parent
My mother, being a stressed out work-a-holic and general worrier, feels the need to over describe every little thing in any and every way possible.

For example, here's an excerpt from a typical conversation.
Mum: Can you get some milk for me?
My inner monologue: We must be low or out of milk, I'll just go to the shop and get some.
I stand up to get my coat.
Mum: Only, we've ran out of milk and Dad want's a cuppa.
Me: Ok
Mum: And you know how he hates that coffee mate stuff.
Me: Yeah...
Mum: So if you could just nip to the shop to get some...
Me: No prob Mum.
Mum: I'll only be about a quid, I'll give you it when you get back if you want.
Me: No, that's ok Mum.
Mum: Alright then, semi-skimmed, two pints in one pint bottles.
Me: Ok.
Mum: It's usually the blue bottle tops.
Me: Yeah.
Mum: And if you could do it in the next few minutes that'd be fine.
My inner monologue: I'd be buying it now if you weren't still talking to me.
Me: That's ok Mum.
Mum: I'm just boiling the kettle then. Ooh, make sure it'll stay in date for a while won't you.
Me through gritted teeth: Yes Mum, I'll get you the out of date stuff just to piss you off, how's that?
Mum: Oh, you are a one. *smiles* See you in a few then.

She recently went on holiday. She called me when she got home and spent almost an hour talking about the food on the plane.
She had the pasta, Dad had the beef. The beef was dry and tasteless, while hers was alright, but had that funny taste all in flight food has. It's probably from the plastic they coat in in.
/rant
( Pointy Head poked another hole in my anorak on, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 16:04, Reply)