'Tell your mother from me that you're a thick, common, whore and I paid for your education then tell me how much she laughs I'd love to know. But she probably doesn't care.' -
Susan Bobrucki
Hello,
Woo hoo! Can anyone think of a worse week for me to be outed as a blogger than this one? Mother has finally worked out how a stats tracker works, something I never believed was possible, not even for a second. I had linked to her site, thinking she'd never notice. The long and short of it is, my double life has been exposed.
Happily I think it shall remain the latest in the long line of things that are not discussed. Nevertheless I feel violated and slightly alarmed. I suppose it was only a matter of time for reasons that I hope to be in a position to boast about shortly.
I have been at great pains to present as an acceptable persona as possible to my parents for the last ten years or so. As a teenager I was a monster at home, now I only kick off when I feel truly cornered. Do any of my readers behave exactly the same with their parents and people they feel comfortable with, friends and so on? If so and don't spare me, am I likely to be disowned or worse shouted at?
Yuck this is awful. I remain determined to blog freely though, if they don't like how I've turned out, it's not my fault. After all they are the manufacturers.
16 comments:
Oh God!
But have you any hope foe me?
Your a common slag who can only prove a point by swearing.Bet you're a right chav too.
Okay, I had a good giggle there. Sorry for laughing, but really, it's best if you train your parents very early on, and keep your hand in with it.
My mother and I are complete opposites, as she is deeply religious, and very prim and proper. She does have a warped wicked side (which is where I get mine from), but she denies it and hides it.
Nevertheless, I figured out at an early age, after incredibly intense battles with her, that it was easier to have her trained properly, early on.
Thus, when my mother's church friends complained about the color of my hair, or my nose ring (I had one way back in '89, when no one had them), she simply told them, "Well, at least she doesn't shoot up."
See, if you have your folks trained properly, early on, they learn to look at the bright side.
They really need that with me, as I'm always throwing them curve balls like "Mom, I'm divorcing my bastard of a husband, and marrying someone I've met on the Internet."
That being said, my mother would totally cark it if she read my blog. She won't read (or watch) anything with curse words in it.
And she's never talked to me about sex, other than this one really uncomfortable time where she told me about menopause and her vaginal dryness when she and my dad have sex. I have no idea why she told me that. That was not valid.
Well, if your folks give you crap, just send them over to my blog, and tell them that it could be worse; they could have me for a daughter.
Lara, that's become very tired and sad now.
Only 3 people in the whole world know for a fact who I really am... and I am not related to any of them. I'd hate my mum to know this was me, not because I'd be embarrassed or anything - it's just a place to breathe freely.
I wouldn't want my mum to read my blog. There's not much on there that is that bad but just the thought makes me all, erm, "icky".
Hello. I've been reading your blog for a few days now - found you through Ill Man - hope you don't mind. I had a similar experience a while back when a family member found my old LiveJournal and told my mum some of what was written in it - thankfully my mother is still only vaguely aware of the great and all-powerful Intarwebz and I went friends-only soon after. She's now aware that I have a blog, I think, but still not sure how to access it.
I wouldn't want her to either. Not because I'm ashamed of any of the opinions I spout there, but just...
Yeah, like Billy said. Ickiness.
Hi! here via Fat Sparrow. My parents are dead (I'm a grandmother) but I feel my blog - the early part, is an homage to them. As for the next generation - my hope is they are blissfully unaware. My sons are OK with it. One reads it and one doesn't. Also I run most things past my present husband and he is remarkably tolerant forunately.
My mother has been reading my blog for some time now and the only time she took umbrage was when I suggested my parents had a copy of The Stud on their bookshelf in the 70s. I learned everything i need to know about sex from p.267 so I'm not imagining it. Although it could have been a copy of Jaws.
I shudder to think what my mum would say.
I treat my folks and my friends with respect and affection, as they deserve.
Strangers fill me with terror, of course, and I shriek like a chimpanzee and throw handfuls of shit at them whenever I leave my flat.
Nothing surprising about that - I'm from East Lothian, and in places like Prestonpans that's treated as a friendly greeting and an acknowledgement that it's your turn to get the beers in.
I found out my parent's passwords for the Parental controls so I wait until they are sleeping or passed out drunk to Blog, a couple of clueless twats.
As you say
"...if they don't like how I've turned out, it's not my fault. After all they are the manufacturers."
Hmm. Maybe, in that role, they might want to consider a product recall. Nothing to worry about, just a few safety adjustments.
Hurrah!
New people.
I'm glad to know I'm not the only person who can't be themselves around their parents.
Fortunately my mother has been pushing up daisies for nearly 20 years, and I deliberately have as little to do with my so-called dad as possible.
But I've been questioning this premium that we bloggers place on anonymity, and recently came out, in the sense of using my real name and telling friends and some colleagues where they could avail themselves of my bloggy goodness. If my kids, or my students for that matter, want to read it, then so much the better.
Of course there's some things I won't write about - I make it a general rule not to write about specific individuals I know - but otherwise it's business as usual.
Fuck, fuck, fuckitty fuck.
It's ok fellista, Clairwil has me well sorted. Makes Barbara Woodhouse look like an amateur.
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