Be Excellent To Each Other

Garlic.

I didn't taste garlic in any recognisable form until I was well into my twenties, thanks to my dad denouncing it at every possible opportunity when I was little.

'You know what the French eat don't you?........ Garbage. Muck like frogs' legs and horrible stinking garlic, it makes me sick. The stench of it. When I went to France I'd have starved to death if it wasn't for McDonald's.'

When he got on a roll about garlic you could really feel the hatred.

As a result I refused point blank to eat anything garlicy until Mrs AE finally persuaded me under extreme duress to try a piece of garlic bread one day in an Italian restaurant, (it was on the promise of sexiness later on, I literally had to be bribed with a swallow blowjob to try garlic for the first time), and I was like, 'What the fuck? This is delicious! Dammit dad!'

When I reported back that I had sampled garlic and enjoyed it, he was really quite upset, 'What about the smell? It'd make me retch.'

Goodness. I'm not sure I ever cook anything that doesn't have garlic in it.

See also: Onion.

I like garlic but absolutely loathe onion.

True - His Lemon Cheesecakes are quite an experience.

My mum used to tell me I didn't like peanuts, presumably because she thought I might choke on them when I was a nipper. As a result, I believed I didn't like peanuts well into my twenties, when I discovered that I actually DO like peanuts after all.

Dude, everything else you ate in that Italian restaurant probably had garlic in it.

I'm pretty sure I didn't eat mushrooms for years after being repeatedly told that they could be poisonous then wondering why my parents were so insistent on eating them anyway.

Oh yes I'm quite sure I'd consumed it in several forms over the years, (same as my dad had too I'd imagine, since it turns up in a surprising amount of stuff), my point is I'd actively avoided anything that was obviously garlicy for twenty years or more. So all I'd ever eat in Italian restaurants prior to the enlightening was basic pizzas and chips, that sort of thing.

Garlic was certainly never allowed in the house in any recognisable form.

Can't think of any irrational hatreds from my folks though.

I don't like Des O'Conner though as every time he appeared on TV my Mum would say how much she hated him for not signing his autograph for her. The fact that he's a mahogany cunt face doesn't help either.

Sardines, anything wrapped in vine leaves, squid and yellow rice. My parents are fucking discussing and will eat absolutely anything in a foreign land if it's "local food", they are the sort of people who would go to that temple of doom banquet and go "monkey brains? Oh how marvellous, John you must try this".
My brother suffered the worst because he's always been a pushover when it comes to my mum, I hit about 10 and point blank refused to eat anything that didn't contain chicken. They only told him what viande de cheval was after he had finished his dinner.

Did he have a long face afterwards?

Your parents sound ace! Although talking about fucking might be a bit embarrassing.

That's a good thing!

Maybe they were talking while fucking?

Maybe 'will eat absolutely anything in a foreign land' is a euphemism.

Girl's front bottoms. They're full of germs, you know, and you get polio if you touch one. My mum said, so it's TRUE.


(I learned that this was not strictly true and got over this fear, eventually )

Black people.


Not really.

Having any sort of debt. OK, perhaps not that irrational, but definitely inherited that one.

My grandad is somewhat deaf. We were in the middle of leeds market with my granny when she spotted a friend, I tuned out of the resulting conversation about knitting wool and people I had never heard of but was expected to know. I got brought back to reality when my gran screamed


it was 1993.

Germans.

That is irrational. Not having debt you can't afford, or not having debt unless it makes sound fiscal sense, that wouldn't be irrational.

Is this why the polio vaccination is given orally rather than injected?

Spicy food. My parents are a nightmare when it comes to anything which could be described as "more than bland". My mum is particularly bad. If she crunches on a peppercorn it's like the world is going to come to an end - melodramatic gasps, gulping of water and waving her hand in front of her mouth. Myp and I do an only slightly exagerated impression of her. Imagine Deirdrie Barlow saying "Its soooo spicy!" and you're about there.

Concequently I refused to eat anything with spices in until I left home and had a chilli con carne experience. Then when I started going out with Myp he made a curry for me and I bloody loved it. I've not looked back since and will gladly eat things
so hotthey make my face bleed.

My mum still looks utterly disgusted if she smells spicy food. She's not even tried it FFS. To his credit, last year at my cousin's wedding my dad ate some chilli and tried an onion bhaji. He still doesn't like it but at least he gave it a go.

Not knowing what is going to happen
Wilful commonness and lack of cultural capital
Salesmanship - particularly the hard sell
Peter Leavy
Adverts
My cousin
Poo

/edit oh yeah, Christians

Heh, she sounds as animated about it as my dad gets about garlic

If he even catches the vaguest whiff of it he'll go off on a jolly old rant about it.

The Poles.

My dad hates garlic as well, but the rest of our family laugh at him like the mongtard that he is. Whilst guzzling garlic.

My dad has an irrational hated of not having roast dinners on Sunday. Absolutely mental and rigid about it. As far to claimed that a schoolfriend's cancer diagnosis at aged 17 was due in part to lack of Sunday roast dinners. His parents, my grandparents, also insist on roast dinners. Every time we visited them in rural Kent as a child, that was the only meal they ever cooked and served in their home.

I've grown up to absolutely detest roast dinners, so far that the mere smell still makes me feel physically sick. I don't think I could visit a carvery without leaving a mess on their carpets.

Roast dinners are awesome, but for every meal? That's scary.

I don't know if it was a mere coincidence that my grandparents only ever served that meal when the family were visiting, but it's still left scars.

Last time I visited them was early last year, and I went with my dad. We ended up having lunch at a terrible rural pub, and you can guess what they demanded we all have from the menu, no deviations due to personal preferences allowed.

North and South?

I don't mind the poles, it's the zeros I can't stand.

I think he meant Poles as in the nationality, Polish people...

what, all of them? That's just silly.

Goof god, man! I think you're right.


Saw it, left it there.

You were supposed to do a

and then I could do a back

Although the last time I had a proper roast was back in 2008. (Roast Turkey at Christmas for 12 people isn't quite the same as a roast for 3.)

I may have to sort this out.

Forgot one truly scarring thing. I am half an hour early for everything, this is because my Dad was, is and always will be over an hour late for everything.

eg. The Girl's birthday: I was near enough dead with glandular fever, my ears had popped and I couldn't hear shit along with not being able to swallow let alone talk.
I decided that her trip out to the pictures was going to happen, and knowing my dad's lateness I told them the movie started an hour before it really did and that we should meet half an hour before that. We waited around, I bought the tickets, and they rolled up just as the doors opened.

He just can't leave stuff the fuck alone and just GTFO of the house, there is always "one more thing I must do before we go", no dad, no you don't need to wash up your coffee cup half an hour after we were due to leave MOVE YOUR FUCKING ARSE OUTSIDE AND INTO THE FUCKING CAR . What makes it worse now is that if you tell a autistic child you will see him at X time if X time passes then said child will scream until you show up.

I have 30+ years worth of rage built up over this one.

From mum:

Litter.

I cannot abide the stuff. In fact, waiting in the queue for the coach at Green Man I ended up wandering around with three carrier bags picking up the bottles, cans, crisp packets etc that people had dropped. There wasn't too much of it there and it was managable, but it pissed me off just looking at litter in a lovely wooded field. I managed to pick it ALL up before the coach arrived. Crushingly, the deafening applause and free tickets for next year failed to materialise, nor was there a 100% Completion Cheevo box. Boo.

From dad:

Perpetually grinning people. Don't trust 'em. This is why I have a hard time with daytime TV and The One show. And Andrew Wright, who was a brief High School friend. When he came over to my house for the first time, grinning all the while, he chased the family cat into a hole in the wall and then grinned some more. I asked my dad what he thought of my new friend and he replied - to school-chum and Professional Andy-hater Lord Rixondale's delight - "Andrew? I think he's a grinning twat."

Bad grammar.

Erk, somewhat corrected now!

I also hate people that just walk around grinning.

Never had any hatreds from my parents, just a bit of advice from my dad....

“Never Marry a Catholic” He went on to say that all the kids etc would have to be bought up in the church etc. This was a long time before all the child abuse came out. Not sure where this came from.

I don’t think he ever intended me to remember it, anyhow 2 year ago I married a catholic girl in a catholic church and I’m very happy.

Sometimes I wish he had said “Money is the root of all evil, don’t become rich” but there you are

The other thing he hates is salami, so there was never any of it in our house; I love it and eat all the time usualy behind my catholic wife’s back as she is always making me eat fish, especially on a Friday

The most perfect, concise description of anyone ever. He is and forever will be "a grinning twat".

Football. Took me ages to get into it of my own volition.

Although I think that was more from my older brother as well as being forced to play the wretched thing at school. I still hate it now. But I don't feel especially irrational about it, actually I'm glad because if I'd have got into football I probably wouldn't have got into skateboarding.

Shouldn't it be 'poor' grammar?

Not for the pic, obv.