Author Topic: People who have nothing to talk about except  (Read 52178 times)

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People who have nothing to talk about except
« on: July 20, 2006, 01:15:05 PM »
KIDS. Damned blasted kids. Who cares if somebody's kid likes bananas or not? Why is it so important for me to know that someone's kid got chocolate all over their faces? Why am I always facing this pressure to go "awww... sooo cute". Damn it. I won't say it. I don't care if the kids are cute or not, I just don't want to be talking about them all the goddamned time. You gotta hear these people. They are incapable of talking about themselves, their likes, their dislikes, their weekends, their dates, anything! All they talk about are their goddamned screwy kids.

- Ephemeral, what do you have for lunch there?
- A beef burrito.
- Oh, my son loooves beef burritos.
- Really, and what about you? What do you have for lunch?
- Oh, I made ham sandwiches for my kids.

And so it goes. And I tell ya, the whole world is like that. I am surrounded by them. Parents are such complicated creatures. I have been saying this since the day I learned to speak, and I still do: "I don't like parents". If I ever become one, dammit, I solemnly swear right here, right now that I will not, ya hear me, NOT constantly bore my peers by bragging about my kid.

Humbug, humbug, humbug.

Bacchus

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« Reply #1 on: July 20, 2006, 01:16:13 PM »
Aww eph, Im sorry to hear that

But it does remind me of this really cute thing my cats did.................................
When you're on your own
When you're at a fork in the road
You don't know which way to go
There's too many signs and arrows
You haven't laughed in a while
When you can't even fake a smile
When you feel ashamed...
The uniform don't make you brave

fern hill

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« Reply #2 on: July 20, 2006, 01:24:30 PM »
eph, take a trip to suburbia. There, they talk about lawns. No shit. They can talk about lawns for hours.

I once left a group at a coffee-break when one of them announced that she had visited now-gone co-worker's new house. She started like this: 'I walked up the path and saw the doorknob. The doorknob was. . .' I didn't hear the rest.

Herr Magoo

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« Reply #3 on: July 20, 2006, 01:26:23 PM »
Hehe.

Years ago a friend had had a baby, and we were all sitting on a patio with the baby, celebrating and hanging out, and a woman (noticing the new infant) came over and began to talk about her baby, her pregnancy, childbirth, etc.  At one point she was describing how the baby, prior to birth, had had its first bowel movement inside her, how all sorts of stuff came out of her vagina, how her nipples were cracking, etc.

I couldn't help wondering if, in the absence of her newfound role as "mom", she have been that blasé about discussing the goings-on of her vagina and nipples in my presence like that.  Clearly, parenthood releases some kind of hormone that binds to the "discretion" centre in the brain and causes it to stop making people think about what they're speaking. :)
ø¤°`°¤ø,¸_¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸_¸,ø¤°°¤ø,¸_¸,ø¤°°¤ø,

'lance

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« Reply #4 on: July 20, 2006, 01:32:01 PM »
Quote from: fern hill
eph, take a trip to suburbia. There, they talk about lawns. No shit. They can talk about lawns for hours.


Here (and not only here, I daresay) it's house/condo prices, mortgages, et bloody cetera. I've been tempted to scream more than once -- or else stand up and say "this conversation is boring me rigid," and walk out.

sparqui

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« Reply #5 on: July 20, 2006, 01:34:05 PM »
Quote from: Herr Magoo
I couldn't help wondering if, in the absence of her newfound role as "mom", she have been that blasé about discussing the goings-on of her vagina and nipples in my presence like that.  Clearly, parenthood releases some kind of hormone that binds to the "discretion" centre in the brain and causes it to stop making people think about what they're speaking. :)


Well at least that non-discretion kind of information is somewhat fascinating to me as a non-parent. Not at all in the same coma-inducing league as kids' dietary needs or clothing choices or school schedules.
If my grandmother had wheels, she'd be a tractor. -- Gilles Duceppe

fern hill

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« Reply #6 on: July 20, 2006, 01:34:16 PM »
Quote from: Herr Magoo
Clearly, parenthood releases some kind of hormone that binds to the "discretion" centre in the brain and causes it to stop making people think about what they're speaking. :)


Parenthood also releases a hormone that causes complete amnesia of the new parent's own childhood and youth. I heard a (not-stupid) mother say of her pubescent son at the height of the AIDS panic in North America: 'He will never have unprotected sex.' I guffawed and she got very angry at me.

Sleeping Sun

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« Reply #7 on: July 20, 2006, 01:37:01 PM »
Oh. eph.  I'm sorry.  I'm going to try really hard to not turn into that kind of parent.

I also resolve to not buy an urban assult carriage and run people off the sidewalk with it.  I LOATHE those things.

I resolve to not drive my kids the 2 blocks from our house to the school (don't laugh, my neighbours do this).

I resolve to keep the baby pictures to myself, unless asked, or unless said child has reached a nice embarassable age.

The Hegemo

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« Reply #8 on: July 20, 2006, 02:40:39 PM »
Quote from: 'lance
[quote="fern hill":39jc3b5h]eph, take a trip to suburbia. There, they talk about lawns. No shit. They can talk about lawns for hours.

Here (and not only here, I daresay) it's house/condo prices, mortgages, et bloody cetera. I've been tempted to scream more than once -- or else stand up and say "this conversation is boring me rigid," and walk out.[/quote:39jc3b5h]

Last night I was at the Columbus Crew game. I had a couple and their kids sitting more or less next to me, then another family who had come along with them sitting in the row behind us. They were fine, until shortly before the end of the first half, when another couple and their two kids showed up. They walked into the row in front of me, then proceeded to stand there, blocking my view, so they could tell their friends how funny it was that they'd forgotten all about the game, even though they use some planner website, and how mom had been at the gym when dad called her to tell her to get home fast, because they were supposed to meet their friends at the game. They told this entire anecdote while blocking my view of the field.

Then once they were finally seated, they started telling their friends about the house they just bought in Powell (upper middle class sprawl exurb of Columbus in Delaware County), and then it turned out the family in the row behind us had also just moved to Powell "one development over", so they spent the rest of the first half droning on and on about the school district, the square footage of their houses, where the property lines were, etc. Then they asked the family in the middle when they were going to join them in Powell, but the female adult in that family said that they wouldn't move again unless they could afford to move to Upper Arlington or Worthington (ritzy suburbs).

When halftime came, I got up and moved to another part of the stadium.

Debra

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« Reply #9 on: July 20, 2006, 02:44:24 PM »
I'd say alot of this has more to do with being pretentious than being parents.
“Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.” —  Josephine Hart

skdadl

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« Reply #10 on: July 20, 2006, 02:53:19 PM »
Me, I'm not sayin' nuffin.    :wink:

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« Reply #11 on: July 20, 2006, 03:33:51 PM »
Quote from: Sleeping Sun
I resolve to keep the baby pictures to myself, unless asked, or unless said child has reached a nice embarassable age.


That's simply not a credible promise. Trust me - and my avatar - on this.

Debra

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« Reply #12 on: July 20, 2006, 03:38:28 PM »
:lol:
“Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.” —  Josephine Hart

skdadl

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« Reply #13 on: July 20, 2006, 03:41:41 PM »
Everybody's baby:


webactivist

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« Reply #14 on: July 20, 2006, 04:03:50 PM »
We had a tornado rip through my community on Monday afternoon and we were without power, telephone and internet service for 3 entire days.

That meant I had no choice but to sit around and talk with the locals where the discussion centred around the alien creatures our teenagers have become, the housing market,  home renovations/upgrades (i.e. the clickie freaking floors).  Never realized how out of touch I am with the local Stepford Wives.

Conversation with this group used to focus on who was dating who, who was screwing who, who was splitting up, but more often than not, when it isn't about the shit in previous paragraph, it is now focused on who was diagnosed with something serious and who has died.

Goddess, I sure hope this is not an indication of what I have to look forward to in my old age.  It's enough to drive one to drink.

 

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