I was in the kitchen with my mom, making some sort of baked good. She told me it was very important that I only stir the batter counterclockwise (or was it clockwise?), or it wouldn’t get mixed properly. 
Oh, ivylass’s made me remember the day I asked my mother to tell me the “facts of life.” I was a pre-teen, I think, and we were at the dinner table (Dad had already left to go fall asleep in front of the TV, and my little brother had run off to play).
Her response was to look at me and say “Your father & I know you will never do anything to make us ashamed.” Then she scurried away to do the dishes.
From that, I got the belief that my parents would be ashamed of me if I didn’t remain a virgin for life, even after I got married. Didn’t stop me from having premarital sex, or anything. Maybe if she’d handled it better, it could’ve saved me from some poor choices, though.
No reason for you to be out after dark. There is nothing you can do in the dark that you can’t do in the light. Maybe so, but after dark gives more hours to do it… I found most of the pitfalls on my own, but for GOOD advice you can’t go wrong with “Try jiggling the handle”.
Ah, yes, I heard all of those, too! Your mother and mine must have been in collusion.
And there’s “Decent women don’t dye their hair.” I stopped hearing that one when my mom decided to dye her hair.
Hee hee. My ex-SO (currnet best friend’s) mother told him if he kept his hair that long it would fall out. This woman has a license to practice medicine.
Fortunatly I AM a slut so all I have to do is paint my toenails at some point.
But to the point, remindes me of a friend of my mother’s who railed against my dying my hair for years. On the grounds that I was misrepresenting my genotype.
That the guy in question should know what breeding stock he was involved with.
Held that position till he started to go grey. Started to dye his hair…still childless…can’t imagine why.
I had the reverse of picket-fence teeth when I was a teenager – too many teeth, not enough room. My grandmother (sixth-grade education) insisted that I wouldn’t need those expensive braces if I would just press on my teeth every night while I was watching TV, to push them into place. :rolleyes:
Your Da would have got on great with one of my Grandfather.
When my father took him down the pub for a pint to ask him for his daughter’s hand he got this gem of advice “Son, there’s one thing you need to know. It’s my girl you’re gonna marry but don’t forget they are all cunts at the end of the day”
Bastard drank 6 clothing factories into the ground while leaving his wife and 11 kids to live in poverty. Not a man I ever looked up too and someone who had half of his children literally spit on his grave when the fucker eventually died of psoriasis
I’m not in any way trying to downplay the gist of your story; your grandfather sounds like a right bastard. But, you do mean he died of cirrhosis, yes?
Well, no offense Tiki, but if they’re eating at a place called “Joe’s Sit and Eat,” they’re probably correct in accusing it. 
Although if it was “Joes Eat and Sit”, we could be sure their accusation had merit.
Wah? What the hell is “panty water?”
I was talking to my great Aunt Bernie last month, and she told me about how my paternal great grandmother, her mother-in-law, would always fuss at her for serving her kids cold milk-she told her that they’d get stomachaches if wasn’t warmed. Then Great-Gramma came to babysit one day. She found that with six growing children, you didn’t have TIME to warm the milk-my uncle used to bring home about two half-gallons each a day-that’s how fast those kids went through the milk.
My grandfather (son of the afore-mentioned great-grandmother) used to make his kids eat everything on their plate to the point that if they didn’t finish it before bed, they got it for breakfast in the morning. Thus, most of his kids ended up with weight problems.
He also thinks that your health is all about your bowels. It doesn’t matter what else is going on with you-as long as you’re shitting, you’re fine.
When I was in high school, my best friend’s mother never wore deodorant and advised her daughters not to either. She swore that her grandmother’s death from breast cancer was caused by deodorant.
My mother still thinks food causes acne. I’ve told her repeatedly it doesn’t-she doesn’t believe me. She also told me that eating late at night will make me sleep badly.
Oh, and for those who’ve gotten “depression is all in your head.” I’d just say, “Exactly.” See if they could figure THAT one out.
Dying of psoriais is pretty miserable, too.
Yeah, it’s a real heartbreak.
“Keep doing that and you’ll go blind”
40 years old, still see just fine.
The “panty water” thing might be a version of an old wive’s tale. According to this strange bit of wisdom, if a woman wants a man to fall in love with her, she can prepare a meal for him containing a bit of her menstrual secretions.
My mom’s pearls of wisdom had a theme:
" Don’t go to Alabama, or you’ll die."
“If you’re outside, and a black truck drives by, run into the house before it reaches the end of the street or somebody in the family will die.”
“If you dream about somebody, they’ll die.” When my dad died, I never told her I dreamed about him the night before. I never would’ve heard the last of it.
Your mother condoned beige? What was she–a whore?!
Well, she is, under the Rules According to Mama Jones.
Question: does anyone have a recipe for “panty water”? I checked Epicurious.com, and nothing.
I lived with my grandparents. My grandfather used to tell me not to sit on the front step of the house because sitting on stone “will give you piles”. I don’t even know what a pile is.
I had an uncle who for want of a better term was a racist. He told me that “white people hate black people. You’ll never be friends with a white kid.” What a jerk. I’m sure that his head would spin (were he still alive) to know that my 2 bestest ever-will do-anything-for-each-other friends in the world are a white guy and a white chick…and we’ve been that way for 26 years now.
AFAIK, “piles” are hemorrhoids. And, also AFAIK, sitting on very hard surfaces a lot can indeed promote them or make them worse. So your grandfather wasn’t as full of it on that one as the racial one.
And here’s a gem from my dear MIL: She came over one day, it was July, and I had beautiful strawberries. I offered her some and fixed some for myself. I sliced some in a bowl, put a little sugar on them, and poured milk over them. She was horrified! “You can’t pour milk on strawberries!!” “Huh?” “It’ll clabber the milk!” “Um, no, I’ve been doing this all my life. It’s never soured the milk” “Don’t tell me! I grew up on a farm! I know about these things!”
I tried asking her if she’d ever put strawberries on her cereal, which had milk. She admitted she had. But she’d never admit she was wrong. :rolleyes:
It was another relative that told me the racial one, not my grandpa. Yeah, he might have had a point with the piles, but according to him letting your ass cheeks touch stone will instantly give them to you.