Times your parents bought you the wrong things...
Discussion
Eddie Strohacker said:
bazza white said:
My cousins daughter who we babysat every week wanted a certain barbie. It was about £30. Shes one of those children that never ask for anything very polite a lovely girl but was so excited about getting this barbie of santa.
Without being that guy, I do think a single comma in that sentence would make all the difference. 
DRFC1879 said:
Events following that are somewhat hazy but I do vividly recall uttering the words "You've ruined my Christmas" before heading upstairs to sulk.
Six months later I got a brand new mountain bike for my birthday. That Raleigh Activator that I'd had my eye on...
To be fair, I was working in Halfords around then, and sold a load of Activators that Christmas - most of them came back a few weeks later as the suspension forks were collapsing, seizing or warping. Six months later I got a brand new mountain bike for my birthday. That Raleigh Activator that I'd had my eye on...
boyse7en said:
Eddie Strohacker said:
bazza white said:
My cousins daughter who we babysat every week wanted a certain barbie. It was about £30. Shes one of those children that never ask for anything very polite a lovely girl but was so excited about getting this barbie of santa.
Without being that guy, I do think a single comma in that sentence would make all the difference. 
Eddie Strohacker said:
A good few years ago, I made an ill advised throw away comment to my mum & dad that I was quite liking the trouser presses in the hotels I was using for my new job.
Round comes Christmas & lo & behold, a shiny new Corby, all wrapped up. I dragged that f
king thing from house to house for ten years before eventually palming it off on the charity. Appreciate the thought, but who in their right mind writes to Santa for a Corby trouser press? 
Round comes Christmas & lo & behold, a shiny new Corby, all wrapped up. I dragged that f
king thing from house to house for ten years before eventually palming it off on the charity. Appreciate the thought, but who in their right mind writes to Santa for a Corby trouser press? 
I got one for Christmas too, around 12-13 years ago, and it still gets used regularly...
alorotom said:
Not me but my sister
she dearly wanted a BMX for christmas one year, parents instead bought her a grifter lol - she never forgave them lol
Ditto for my step-brother. He's a year younger than me and so wanted a BMX the year after me for Christmas. she dearly wanted a BMX for christmas one year, parents instead bought her a grifter lol - she never forgave them lol
His Dad bought him a Grifter. It weighed a f
king ton!After the age of about 14, I stopped asking my parents for anything bike (or fashion, come to taht!) related as I had a series of p/t jobs and had a load of cash each week. I got into time trials/road racing and had a Colnago and a Bianchi, both well specced for mid 1980s, and either of which were worth more than my parents' cars!
The black ash desk tale earlier's a f
king beauty! 
Now, as the parent of 15 & (almost) 17 y.o girls, I know all too well to be sure to know exactly what they want!
My Mum's mortifying moment:
My eldest brother's youngest son is autistic, and, shall we say, has quite a potty mouth on him, for which the blame can be fairly laid at the feet of my brother and his wife! Anyway - Mum & stepdad were visiting my brother and his family in the U.S a few years ago. It was around the time of my youngest nephew's birthday. Mum had no idea what to get for my nephew, so asked my SIL. She said clothes, told Mum exactly what brand, the store to go to, the sizes, etc., all Tony Hawk stuff. Nephew plays his games a LOT!
Anyway, birthday party at my brother's place. Loads of neighbours and friends are around. Mum proudly produces a bundle of nicely wrapped clothes for my nephew to unwrap.
His first words, "Better not be f
king clothes! I want money to buy X-Box games! Who the fk bought me clothes?!"TBF, Mum did as she was asked, so my SIL stitched my Mum up!
CubanPete said:
On a Saturday afternoon my brother and I had to be picked up from school.
My parents were rarely less than an hour late as 'they forgot'. Every time, for five and a half years, until we learnt to drive (we grew up in the sticks, it was 8 miles to school, there was no public transport)
I had a similar one. My parents were rarely less than an hour late as 'they forgot'. Every time, for five and a half years, until we learnt to drive (we grew up in the sticks, it was 8 miles to school, there was no public transport)
I was perfectly up for walking home from school, it was only a bit over two miles and downhill all the way. However, mum refused to allow me to do so, citing various safety concerns. However she was always an hour or more late to pick me up at the end of the day. I would still be hanging round the gates waiting for my lift on my own as the last member of staff had left and the caretaker had locked the gates and gone home. Obviously this kinda sucked, especially in winter and when it was raining.
alorotom said:
Not me but my sister
she dearly wanted a BMX for christmas one year, parents instead bought her a grifter lol - she never forgave them lol
This is the anti-me.she dearly wanted a BMX for christmas one year, parents instead bought her a grifter lol - she never forgave them lol
One year I wanted a new bike, didn't specify but everyone had Grifters or Choppers (that dates me) I wanted a Grifter. I got a Puch-Murray BMX with the mag wheels. Cool as f
k but at that time BMX was very new and no-one in our backwater town had one so I was the odd one out. I was pretty annoyed (for a while).This was typical of my dad though, he bought 'the best' even when it wasn't what you wanted.
Which is why we had a Betamax
And an Acorn Electron(BBC B was too expensive) when I wanted a Spectrum or Commodore 64.
As an adult one year I asked for a Vegetable cook book as I'd started getting a veg box delivered and wanted to know how to cook the weird stuff you got in those. I got a vegetarian cookbook.
They bought all sorts of weird stuff over the years, things my brother and I just opened and looked at each other with wtf expressions.
One other notable gift was a denim shirt from a girlfriend. That was the point I realised it wasn't going to work as we were quite goth/rock/indie stylistically speaking. Didn't split immediately as she was terrifically adventurous in other ways.
Back when I didn't know any better (so about 35 years ago) I was a devout Liverpool FC supporter.
Knowing I supported 'a top team in red' my parents bought me a Man Utd calendar.....
A year later, and still being young and at the time Man Utd were doing better, I started to support them instead.
That Christmas I got a Liverpool kit
Knowing I supported 'a top team in red' my parents bought me a Man Utd calendar.....
A year later, and still being young and at the time Man Utd were doing better, I started to support them instead.
That Christmas I got a Liverpool kit
DRFC1879 said:
One Christmas (It was 1992 and I was eleven at the time) I had told everyone in the family that all I wanted was a mountain bike.
I had spent the previous couple of years on my brother's hand-me-down Falcon BMX and all my mates had got mountain bikes. I said to my parents in the blunt style of which eleven-year-old boys are the masters that I really wouldn't mind if I got nothing else that year as long as I got a mountain bike. No selection boxes, no Chocolate Orange, no jigsaws, jumpers, toy cars, socks or pyjamas. No book tokens or Our Price Records gift vouchers from the extended family or that woman we call auntie because mum went to school with her and we sometimes see her working in WH Smith in the Frenchgate Centre. Pool resources if you need to. All I want is a mountain bike. That Raleigh Activator we saw in town would be perfect.
Come Christmas morning I was somewhat bowled over on walking, bleary-eyed into the front room. As usual there was a sack full of small gifts; tubes of Smarties, bags of marbles, books and the usual ephemera. I tore through the wrapping in record time with as much fake enthusiasm as I could muster as I worked through to the huge gift-wrapped box at the bottom. A slightly odd cuboid sort of shape; my bike must've had it handlebars turned round for packing into the box to make it easier to wrap.
Finally I'd got through the sack of toys and came to attack the wrapping on my new mountain bike. Would it be the Raleigh Activator or couldn't my family afford the £200 price tag? I wouldn't really mind, after all I'd still have something that could keep up with my mates on our regular trips to the "dippers" (a dried-up mud storm drain in the woods which served as a kind of half-pipe).
As I tore the wrapping off the box, I saw that an old MFI desk box had been re-purposed as packaging to make the bike easier to wrap. But wow; this was really heavy. And made of wood with black ash veneer. Ha ha... how I laughed as I realised that the box actually contained a desk which my dad said he thought I'd like as I needed somewhere to do my homework. "Go on then, where is it?" said I.
Mum glanced at Dad with a look that could've turned him to stone. Dad shuffled uneasily on the velour sofa. My eyes began to glisten. "Where's my bike?," I squeaked as I choked back the tears.
Mum fixed Dad with a piercing stare. "I told you this would happen." she said.
Events following that are somewhat hazy but I do vividly recall uttering the words "You've ruined my Christmas" before heading upstairs to sulk.
Six months later I got a brand new mountain bike for my birthday. That Raleigh Activator that I'd had my eye on...
Oh yes I remember virtually the same experience when I was about 13 at Christmas.I had spent the previous couple of years on my brother's hand-me-down Falcon BMX and all my mates had got mountain bikes. I said to my parents in the blunt style of which eleven-year-old boys are the masters that I really wouldn't mind if I got nothing else that year as long as I got a mountain bike. No selection boxes, no Chocolate Orange, no jigsaws, jumpers, toy cars, socks or pyjamas. No book tokens or Our Price Records gift vouchers from the extended family or that woman we call auntie because mum went to school with her and we sometimes see her working in WH Smith in the Frenchgate Centre. Pool resources if you need to. All I want is a mountain bike. That Raleigh Activator we saw in town would be perfect.
Come Christmas morning I was somewhat bowled over on walking, bleary-eyed into the front room. As usual there was a sack full of small gifts; tubes of Smarties, bags of marbles, books and the usual ephemera. I tore through the wrapping in record time with as much fake enthusiasm as I could muster as I worked through to the huge gift-wrapped box at the bottom. A slightly odd cuboid sort of shape; my bike must've had it handlebars turned round for packing into the box to make it easier to wrap.
Finally I'd got through the sack of toys and came to attack the wrapping on my new mountain bike. Would it be the Raleigh Activator or couldn't my family afford the £200 price tag? I wouldn't really mind, after all I'd still have something that could keep up with my mates on our regular trips to the "dippers" (a dried-up mud storm drain in the woods which served as a kind of half-pipe).
As I tore the wrapping off the box, I saw that an old MFI desk box had been re-purposed as packaging to make the bike easier to wrap. But wow; this was really heavy. And made of wood with black ash veneer. Ha ha... how I laughed as I realised that the box actually contained a desk which my dad said he thought I'd like as I needed somewhere to do my homework. "Go on then, where is it?" said I.
Mum glanced at Dad with a look that could've turned him to stone. Dad shuffled uneasily on the velour sofa. My eyes began to glisten. "Where's my bike?," I squeaked as I choked back the tears.
Mum fixed Dad with a piercing stare. "I told you this would happen." she said.
Events following that are somewhat hazy but I do vividly recall uttering the words "You've ruined my Christmas" before heading upstairs to sulk.
Six months later I got a brand new mountain bike for my birthday. That Raleigh Activator that I'd had my eye on...
I say almost....... I didn't get a desk to assist with school work.
Instead I got a bright. Nay virtually glow in the bloody dark pink racing bike. Pink. Let me say that again. Pink. 13 year old boy. Pink.
Luckily it came with lights. As night time was about the only time I could bring myself to ride it. Worse thing was when my mum asked if I liked it and if I didn't I could exchange it. Not wanting to upset them I told them I liked it.
Ah, my thread has arrived. 
When I was about 14 I was a mad keen cyclist but had a fairly crappy bike. My father had a friend (well, a bloke he knew) who would keep buying stuff and then not using it - only the things he'd buy had to be the best. He'd bought this amazing 10 speed super lightweight racing bike - it was AWESOME! Ridden it twice and then stuck it in his garage. Eventually he decided to sell it (for about half what he'd paid for it) so my dad, knowing a good deal when he saw one, bought it for me.
However, we were not allowed to simply have things bought for us - only birthday or Christmas presents - so since it wasn't my birthday for six months this bike sat in our garage next to my bike unused, waiting for the day. It was the longest six months of my life, every time I dragged my old bike out of the garage to ride to school or to go to a mates in the evening (incredibly, in the olden days we used bikes as a means of transport rather than a fitness hobby), there it was. Naturally I told all my friends at school about this amazing bike I was getting. I was beside myself with excitement about this bike.
During that six months, my father decided that he was 'displeased with me' for some reason - maybe I wasn't doing as well as he felt I should at school, or I'd 'answered back' once too often.
So when my birthday came around, the bike I'd been promised, and that sat in the garage, was declared to now be my father's bike.
He didn't ride a bike, he had a car. In fact he had a new car, and when he'd got his new car it came with a stereo radio/cassette so the stereo he'd taken out of his old car became my birthday present. I was treated to a pair of cheap car parcel shelf speakers and it was wired to a car battery in my bedroom so I had a radio/cassette player.
Better yet, I was allowed to go for a bike ride with my father, him on the new bike, me on my old one.
I think that was the only time he rode it, it spent the next five years gathering dust in the garage on its now flat tyres. I, meanwhile had got two paper rounds (one morning, one evening) so I could save up for a decent bike. When I had enough money, I asked my father if he would sell me the bike. He refused.
Several years later he gave the bike away to the son of a woman who worked for him.
When I was about 14 I was a mad keen cyclist but had a fairly crappy bike. My father had a friend (well, a bloke he knew) who would keep buying stuff and then not using it - only the things he'd buy had to be the best. He'd bought this amazing 10 speed super lightweight racing bike - it was AWESOME! Ridden it twice and then stuck it in his garage. Eventually he decided to sell it (for about half what he'd paid for it) so my dad, knowing a good deal when he saw one, bought it for me.
However, we were not allowed to simply have things bought for us - only birthday or Christmas presents - so since it wasn't my birthday for six months this bike sat in our garage next to my bike unused, waiting for the day. It was the longest six months of my life, every time I dragged my old bike out of the garage to ride to school or to go to a mates in the evening (incredibly, in the olden days we used bikes as a means of transport rather than a fitness hobby), there it was. Naturally I told all my friends at school about this amazing bike I was getting. I was beside myself with excitement about this bike.
During that six months, my father decided that he was 'displeased with me' for some reason - maybe I wasn't doing as well as he felt I should at school, or I'd 'answered back' once too often.
So when my birthday came around, the bike I'd been promised, and that sat in the garage, was declared to now be my father's bike.
He didn't ride a bike, he had a car. In fact he had a new car, and when he'd got his new car it came with a stereo radio/cassette so the stereo he'd taken out of his old car became my birthday present. I was treated to a pair of cheap car parcel shelf speakers and it was wired to a car battery in my bedroom so I had a radio/cassette player.
Better yet, I was allowed to go for a bike ride with my father, him on the new bike, me on my old one.
I think that was the only time he rode it, it spent the next five years gathering dust in the garage on its now flat tyres. I, meanwhile had got two paper rounds (one morning, one evening) so I could save up for a decent bike. When I had enough money, I asked my father if he would sell me the bike. He refused.
Several years later he gave the bike away to the son of a woman who worked for him.
I'm now the dad who buys rubbish presents. Our 3 year old has a crazy couple of weeks around Christmas with my birthday, his birthday and Christmas, then for a couple of weeks he expects everyone he sees to get him a present. He's Paw Patrol obsessed, so at Christmas he got a Paw Patrol boat (sea patroller?), which he loved, then for his birthday, one of the things he got was a Paw Patrol play desk thing. He went ballistic, proper bratty toddler, throw yourself on the floor strop as we hadn't got him Kayo's Rocket from Thunderbirds. He's never mentioned it before, we had no idea it existed and it turns out it's not in the UK anyway. He won't be getting anything for a while.
Many moons ago I really wanted a Commodore 64 to replace my ZX81. That Christmas my best friend knew he was getting a C64 and we spent ages talking about which games we were going to get. Come the big day... I got a Dragon 32 with some weird joy sticks which didn't self-centre. I managed to keep my emotions in check and my parents didn't find out how gutted I was until they overheard me talking to my friend on the phone. 
I remember one Christmas morning the tear filled disappointment on my brothers face upon seeing that years 'big' present.
It was a bike frame.
No pedals, seat, wheels, chain, handle bars, gears etc., etc., just a frame.
I also remember my dad, in spotting the glum face, telling him to get a paper round so that he could build his own bike.
I think,'mentally scarred for life' would be quite apt.
I was pretty relived when I opened my complete train set.
(pissed my self laughing after).
It was a bike frame.
No pedals, seat, wheels, chain, handle bars, gears etc., etc., just a frame.
I also remember my dad, in spotting the glum face, telling him to get a paper round so that he could build his own bike.
I think,'mentally scarred for life' would be quite apt.
I was pretty relived when I opened my complete train set.
(pissed my self laughing after).
so called said:
I remember one Christmas morning the tear filled disappointment on my brothers face upon seeing that years 'big' present.
It was a bike frame.
No pedals, seat, wheels, chain, handle bars, gears etc., etc., just a frame.
I also remember my dad, in spotting the glum face, telling him to get a paper round so that he could build his own bike.
I think,'mentally scarred for life' would be quite apt.
I was pretty relived when I opened my complete train set.
(pissed my self laughing after).
He did better than me..! It was a bike frame.
No pedals, seat, wheels, chain, handle bars, gears etc., etc., just a frame.
I also remember my dad, in spotting the glum face, telling him to get a paper round so that he could build his own bike.
I think,'mentally scarred for life' would be quite apt.
I was pretty relived when I opened my complete train set.
(pissed my self laughing after).
Ari said:
Ah, my thread has arrived.
When I was about 14 I was a mad keen cyclist but had a fairly crappy bike. My father had a friend (well, a bloke he knew) who would keep buying stuff and then not using it - only the things he'd buy had to be the best. He'd bought this amazing 10 speed super lightweight racing bike - it was AWESOME! Ridden it twice and then stuck it in his garage. Eventually he decided to sell it (for about half what he'd paid for it) so my dad, knowing a good deal when he saw one, bought it for me.
However, we were not allowed to simply have things bought for us - only birthday or Christmas presents - so since it wasn't my birthday for six months this bike sat in our garage next to my bike unused, waiting for the day. It was the longest six months of my life, every time I dragged my old bike out of the garage to ride to school or to go to a mates in the evening (incredibly, in the olden days we used bikes as a means of transport rather than a fitness hobby), there it was. Naturally I told all my friends at school about this amazing bike I was getting. I was beside myself with excitement about this bike.
During that six months, my father decided that he was 'displeased with me' for some reason - maybe I wasn't doing as well as he felt I should at school, or I'd 'answered back' once too often.
So when my birthday came around, the bike I'd been promised, and that sat in the garage, was declared to now be my father's bike.
He didn't ride a bike, he had a car. In fact he had a new car, and when he'd got his new car it came with a stereo radio/cassette so the stereo he'd taken out of his old car became my birthday present. I was treated to a pair of cheap car parcel shelf speakers and it was wired to a car battery in my bedroom so I had a radio/cassette player.
Better yet, I was allowed to go for a bike ride with my father, him on the new bike, me on my old one.
I think that was the only time he rode it, it spent the next five years gathering dust in the garage on its now flat tyres. I, meanwhile had got two paper rounds (one morning, one evening) so I could save up for a decent bike. When I had enough money, I asked my father if he would sell me the bike. He refused.
Several years later he gave the bike away to the son of a woman who worked for him.
Wow, that is properly mean spirited. When I was about 14 I was a mad keen cyclist but had a fairly crappy bike. My father had a friend (well, a bloke he knew) who would keep buying stuff and then not using it - only the things he'd buy had to be the best. He'd bought this amazing 10 speed super lightweight racing bike - it was AWESOME! Ridden it twice and then stuck it in his garage. Eventually he decided to sell it (for about half what he'd paid for it) so my dad, knowing a good deal when he saw one, bought it for me.
However, we were not allowed to simply have things bought for us - only birthday or Christmas presents - so since it wasn't my birthday for six months this bike sat in our garage next to my bike unused, waiting for the day. It was the longest six months of my life, every time I dragged my old bike out of the garage to ride to school or to go to a mates in the evening (incredibly, in the olden days we used bikes as a means of transport rather than a fitness hobby), there it was. Naturally I told all my friends at school about this amazing bike I was getting. I was beside myself with excitement about this bike.
During that six months, my father decided that he was 'displeased with me' for some reason - maybe I wasn't doing as well as he felt I should at school, or I'd 'answered back' once too often.
So when my birthday came around, the bike I'd been promised, and that sat in the garage, was declared to now be my father's bike.
He didn't ride a bike, he had a car. In fact he had a new car, and when he'd got his new car it came with a stereo radio/cassette so the stereo he'd taken out of his old car became my birthday present. I was treated to a pair of cheap car parcel shelf speakers and it was wired to a car battery in my bedroom so I had a radio/cassette player.
Better yet, I was allowed to go for a bike ride with my father, him on the new bike, me on my old one.
I think that was the only time he rode it, it spent the next five years gathering dust in the garage on its now flat tyres. I, meanwhile had got two paper rounds (one morning, one evening) so I could save up for a decent bike. When I had enough money, I asked my father if he would sell me the bike. He refused.
Several years later he gave the bike away to the son of a woman who worked for him.
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