Failboat Supreme

Okay, so let's discuss how STUPID my damn aunt is, shall we? Because she is dumber than dog shit. Actually, both of them. You see, I was expected to get my inheritance....oh, by now. But my aunt D (for Dummy) who wanted to buy one of the items is dragging her ass like whoa. She's flaky as hell, and a recovering alcoholic that analyzes everything to death. D, she's had thirteen months to decide. This is not a recent development. She still hasn't. So the rest of us are shit out of luck until she decides.

Now my other aunt who I'll call M (for Moron) is in charge of the trust. So what is she going to do? Wait until after this weekend to see how this latest sale went and then D will decide. Yeah. Because why not round that bitch up to fourteen months. It's not like some of us desperately need that money or anything. If D doesn't buy it, then they'll put it up for sale in November and distribute the money we have now. Yay? Look, y'all. I'm not a financial adviser or anything, but I'm pretty damn sure if someone hasn't bought the painting now, then it ain't gonna happen. It's gone up considerably in price, so let's sell and get the money. Stop letting D drag her feet.

This is why I don't talk to these people. I don't handle utter bullshit. And that's what this is. There's been trouble since this thing went into the family hands. I'm ready to roll up and go do some ass beating. Just saying. And passive-aggressive reactions is not cute, either. And I've received a couple of those in the emails.

I need a drink.

One Jessie Dead On The Floor

I've had a pretty busy couple of days. Saturday until Sunday afternoon, my godmom was throwing up for 18 hours. Then we called 911, and they took her to the hospital 12 hours in the ER (4:30pm - 4:30am) and she was diagnosed with having gallstones. That means she has to be admitted. That means I can't leave the hospital until 6am. I have class at 3:30. Surgery was talked about, and they said they'd call to let me know when. I got a whopping 2 hours sleep that night (because that's SO good for the diabetic. Really.) I was getting ready to hit the road to see her when they call at 1. Surgery's at 3. That's right. Two hours notice. I send off emails to my profs, saying I'm sorry, but a family emergency came up and I need to be there since I'm the power of attorney.

Turns out she had rotten gallstones. Bladder's gone completely. So that's out. Her surgeon was the same one that worked on my diabetic abscess about four years ago. And oddly enough, he remembered me. Well, it's not every day you work on a 22 year old's ass in the child's section because you can't wait to hit the OR. Just saying. Anyway, so she wakes up, and my mom mom and I are waiting for her. Mom Mom's been there since I was. She stuck around and was more than a little awesome.

When the anathesia was wearing off, combined with the morphine, was a funny thing to witness. You'll be glad to know the nurses all wanted to kill her. So while I went to catch me some real food (I had eaten pretty much entirely cafeteria food the day before and it wasn't settling well) and do some errands around the hospital, she sat with her. Apparently they had a good time, which is good like you wouldn't believe. I hate it when they bitch each other out. Mom mom really stepped up and did what she was supposed to. I appreciated it.

Mama came home Tuesday, thank goodness. See, I had midterms Wednesday and Thursday. So I was glad. Only, I show up to both my classes Wednesday, and guess what...there's a test! In each one! Ones I hadn't even tried to study for. Wasn't that fabulous? I know, it was so thrilling to know. I'm just hoping I passed them. Okay, let's back up a bit. I didn't know I was going to have the tests, since my teachers had it on the list but as of last week, hadn't even made a peep about them. Fail, teachers, fail. Actually, double fail, since they never emailed me back. Thanks assholes. Because I clearly needed to worry about if I was going to be okay, or not, in class.

Let's hope I passed, but I doubt I did the math one. That's why I need reviews. Stupid fucking teachers. Stop being lazy damn it. Learn your courses, and know how to read the schedule you created. Ugh. Anyway, so I took the tests.

And today my history wasn't talking about it, but he was talking about early Christianity, since we were discussing Rome. You know, call me kooky, but I don't think it's good to put people on the spot like that. Just saying. And I took my Religions midterm. I'm hoping I passed it. I really, really do. I think I got all of the multiple choice right, and maybe partially on the essay, so that should be totally passing. Dunno the percentage of that one. Oh, that's right. 25% of my grade. Yeah, exactly.

Tomorrow I get to go do errands and next week? I totally get the opportunity to read like three books on American Muslim women, watch Little Buddha for Religion. I need to type up my history notes too. And all this while taking care of my godmom post-surgery and do some errands with her. I'm going to be very tired between doing everything. Not to mention figuring out what the hell I'm supposed to be doing with my history paper due on March 20th. Which is like the week after spring break is over. Again. Worst group. Ever. Though, my ass has an A in the class, so you know, I'll be charitable.

Someone wanna give me like a bottle of vodka and OJ, so I can pretend the week won't happen.

Now I go off to bed so I can do some homework this weekend. Reading a lot of books man. I have to write a note page on it for class. Well, one of them anyway, since it's a source notepage. This man is not normal. I'm just saying.

Dun Dun Dun.

I voted earlier. Of course I did. I may be cynical about the political system, but my family has the saying of "you don't vote, you can't bitch" and damn it, how can you not bitch about the political system. I got up extra early (read: before noon), went and voted, had an hour to kill so I enjoyed my lunch before heading to school extra early (read: 1.5 hours). I got a lot done.

So after history, my group is going to the library, right? And dude, just dude. I'm the only one that's done any research. Our presentation? Due on Thursday. I was so damn pissed. But! I was done so they got to research while I relished in watching them figure out how when I already had. Go me, go me. Of course, I think they're using Wiki, so you know, I worry about my grade. However, whatever dude. I did it. That's all I give a flying shit about. They have to put the presentation together anyway.

Now, I go to bed. Since mama's sick, she finally decided she's had enough of the plague and tomorrow I'm going to try and get her a doc appointment. She can't even sit up without dying of coughs. So you know. Then I go to class. Go me.

Before I head to bed, I need to finish out my chapter of Night Season. I should be reading my Sociology book, but damn that thing is boring. Tomorrow I finally figure out what I made on the test last Monday, too. Oh! And we watched the video about KoKo the other day. I already knew just about everything. I love getting the chance to be smug. ;)

Gobble, gobble!

I hope everyone had a fabulous Turkey Day. Or maybe I should say Football Day, since I am in the South. We went out to our annual dining place (no need to cook for two people), and I went to my mom's for some time. It was nice to see my family, well some of them. Aunt Lisa has Marie Osmond's hyena laugh, except mixed with a twanged nails on chalkboard little extra. Fabulous. But it was nice to see them.

And now I need to get back to my word count. I plan on not moving too much tomorrow. I don't really fancy having a wreck during Black Friday. I live between two malls and an interstate. I'm too smart for that.

Reading LMQ's post on getting a new digi cam reminded me that I need to get a new one. See, mine is so cool that it randomly decided to not take the lens back into the damn thing, in the middle of the night. So I don't have have one, but I totally need one in like 3 weeks. Go Team Nikon!

So what's a girl to do? Go to Ebay! Except there are some seriously delusional people on that place. And some assholes, but we'll start with the delusional first. People are selling new ones for like 400 bucks...while they're like half that in the stores. Hello? Common sense would tell me to buy it from the store for that difference.

Now, the assholes. Those are the people that snipe shit. God forbid you be on a limited budget and that's why you're trying to use the site cause you have a limited budget. I mean, if I had the 300 for the camera, I could go to the store! Let me repeat that: if I could afford the camera, I'd buy it from a store I can return it to if it breaks. I'm just saying. So, I'm desperately hoping for a camera in the next couple days, so I can take pics when we go to Florida, for our reference points. And when we tour apartments.

Hell In A Handbasket, YAY!

Okay, I know it's been forever since I updated. Like half a month. Sorry! I've been torn between school, writing, taking mom to the doctors, reading urban fantasy like crazy, and trying to stay awake. Oh, and laughing my everloving ass off at the stupid at the Lexicon people. In case you're unaware, the Lexicon is an online encyclopedia for Harry Potter. And the editor and owner, Steve Vander Ark decided to publish this. Yes, he did indeed decide to publish an encyclopedia of copyrighted material, and thought it could pass off as critical essays.

His publisher (and him) decided to ignore a lot of JKR and WB's requests to see the manuscript and if not, than to cease and desist. Let's just say they were slow enough to be left behind at the bus stop, kay? And the publisher, from Michigan (haha, Michigan peoples, you get the crazy this time), has compared someone protecting their intellectual property as a police state, the Japan bombings, David and Voldemort (yes, you read that right), and David and Goliath. You really can't make this stupid up, I promise.

The best part was SVA asked JKR to write an encyclopedia with him, but she refused, so he did it on his own. On her website, she gives out awards and stuff for awesome websites that are informative. Lexicon has been around for something like at least five years. I was in the fandom for awhile and used to occasionally look over if I forgot any info for a Potter story I was writing. Though, it was rarely about Harry himself, because I wanted to kill the little bastard with all his whining. Seriously, dude, your parents aren't bugfuck nuts and can't remember you exist because of them. Shut up already. I swear, I shipped Harry/Buffy (of Vampire Slayer fame) for a damn good reason. He could probably be slashed (same sex) with Peter from Heroes, too.

Anyway, the ironic part is that JKR didn't mind the online version because it was a good resource that even she had used once or twice. And it didn't try and profit off her work. Yeah, boyo missed the Common Sense Boat and fell straight into Entitlement River of Denial.

Ahem, there's a buttload more, but a) I don't think you care and b) it's more time consuming to know than MsScribes was. And that bitch got minor press coverage. All the RDR Books (publisher) vs JKR stuff has been happening since Halloween. I love it when celebrities give me presents on holidays. But he fucks up Fandom (as in all communities about any and every show) I will be forced to run up there and kick someone's ass...using a shovel.

I'll be going to Florida the second week of December to the third. I'll have the computer, but I don't know if the hotel will have wifi. We'll see. I have my final the night before we leave. Next semester I'm taking four classes. Woohoo. Intro to Anthropology (I'm hoping this teacher doesn't harp on evolution like my other attempt at my first college did), World History to 1500, Intermediate Algebra (read: the second semester of my stupid math), and an online Geography class.

I have a lot more, but I'll talk about it later. I need to get to bed. I still have to write about 3500 words tomorrow to catch up, and do some errands.

Kiss My Grits, Mel!

I am so damn tired of being an adult, as in a fucking partner for my godmom. Dude, I've been an adult since I was born, having to deal with my parents foolishness, and that counts her too. She alternates between treating me like I'm her fucking husband to a three-year-old. I'm tired of dealing with her 30-year-old thoughts on Atlanta. Hi, it's changed. Areas have changed. I'm tired of dealing with her crap about "I don't know if I can handle a house" and when I say "fine, we'll just cancel that whole part of the search!" She goes "No, we need to look." Look, woman. You're 73-years-old. Grow a goddamn backbone! I shouldn't have to be the one to pick out everything! I'm not your husband! I'm your kid!

She won't even pick out the restaurant to eat at. She tells me to. Dude, seriously, grow a fucking pair. I'm 25, and I've been surrounded by her negativity all my life. And I love her, and I babied her so I created part of this mess, but come the fuck on! I'm so over this. She acts like I don't know a thing about house hunting. Oh, sure. I only look shit up daily, looking at prices and what we can afford. 220,000-250000 is not what it was five years ago, lady. The prices have gone up. Inflation happened. Please, I don't pull this shit out of my ass. I pay attention. I'm so over it!

I want my own place. I want my own space. I don't need someone up my ass 24/7. She just walks into my room, and sits down. Because she's bored. And she'll hound me to death. Seriously, I get the same nagging comment about six-seven times a day. Ugh, lady. I just. I'm so over this. I know I'm not in a position to be on my own. Hell, I don't even have a car since I sold it the other day (junkmonster's gone, thank god). But god knows I could use a way out. I'm seriously about to crack. It's compounding. Do you know how TIRED I am of listening to her human equivalent of "nom, nom, nom" EVERY. SINGLE. BITE. she takes? And a huge breath. And her fucking neurosis about her weight. Dude, you're 73. You're not gonna be a size 4 anymore. Get. The. Fuck. Over. It. I swear she has an eating disorder. She'll eat like a piece of cheese toast for bread, a candy bar for lunch, and half of whatever sets out when she makes for dinner. And she always goes "I'm so full." And don't get me started on her passive aggressive shit. I can't say one thing without it being held against me for fucking decades. Seriously, she brings up shit I did when I was like 11.

I'm 25. How about giving me a little credit? I've survived a pretty fucked up childhood, came out fairly mentally in tact, working on changing that even better. I'm just...so over this. Honestly, all I want is to be given a little downtime, for me. I shouldn't have to worry about her shit and mine, because she acts like I'm her partner. Dude, I get it. Finances are tight. But if I say something? I'm treated like shit, even if she wants my opinion and asks for it.

I'm going to lose my mind in the next couple months. I can feel it starting. I've gotten like this more than once. Hell, even in the past seven years, at least twice. I just. God, is it such a big deal to let me be a normal 25 year old every once in while? Really, is it that hard?

I'm about five minutes from a great big, giant crying jag. Because the stress is unreal.

Kerthunk!

Now I was talking to someone about the LJ/6A debacle and I mentioned beating someone with my godmom's cornbread pan. Now, this thing is like 100+ years, considering she's in her 70s and it was her grandma's. Threatening to beat someone with the cornbread pan is based on a real story, though.

You see, my godmom's mom (my other godmom), Nona, wasn't too keen on her lecherous brother-in-law. He was a drunk and bum. He kept his wife pregnant (they ended up with 12 or 13 kids) during the time too. Nona's sister was his wife, so she put up with the scum, but wasn't happy about it. He would make comments about how much better Nona thought she was compared to them. Never mind that Nona and her husband worked full-time, took care of her parents (who watched their kid), and their child in the 30s and pre-war 40s, and their bathroom was still on the back porch so they weren't too high up. The Lech's girls got my godmom's hand-me-downs, and he was upset about that. Needless to say, he wasn't a winner.

Though according to him, he won WWI all by his lonesome, and then the aliens took him into space and played 'spot the organ' with an anal probe. So take that for what you will.

So, he and his family were over visiting the grandparents. It was breakfast time, and Nona had to cook the meal. She had something like 9 extra people to cook for. While she's preparing it, old Lech comes over, and being a never sober fool, decides he wants a piece of his sister-in-law. Nona's not so thrilled with the concept. After he groped her, she reached around on the stove and grabbed the skillet of eggs, knocking him out cold and leaving the eggs on the floor. That skillet had been on the range for awhile, and remember this wasn't a modern day oven. So it was a pretty hot pan.

Nona's hubby comes in from keeping the guests happy after hearing the ka-thunk to find the scene. By that time, Lech has woken up slightly, a bit groggy. He's moaning, and Nona's ready to hit him again. This is a woman that hates violence to boot. She says he's never to come into the house again, and he does, she'll hit him. Her truck driving husband backs her up and Lech leaves. And never comes back.

This is why pissing off a generally nice Southern woman is a very, very bad idea.

I completely give up

I love my godmom, I really do. I put up with her bullshit because I do. But this for the birds! The real estate agent she has is making big promises, and then insults and talks down to us. I don't mean a snappy comment here and there. I mean, full-on. Like, I look for condos in the market because my godmom asks me to. Since I have a computer, why not? I can find things, since I know what we like. Especially since our real estate agent doesn't listen to a damn thing we say.

It's like being between two passive-aggressive fools and a hard place. You see, my godmom wants to fire her, but doesn't want to hurt her feelings. EVEN THOUGH, said agent has said phrases like "FMLS has all the condos with your criteria. All you are doing is making my job harder," when I find something we might be interested in. I didn't have the MLS number. I got it off Craigslist. But, it was listed by another agent, so it should be in the database. So I thought, hey, she can call and ask. I gave all the info I had. There were three of them. She's also said things "I am going to send you everything from 200K to 250K with your criteria. THIS IS EVERYTHING. You are wasting your time searching Craig's List. Everything I am sendng you is ALL THERE IS." I later found the one we were more interested in by doing a quick look on the site that was referenced on Craigslist. If I can do it, she can spend 10 minutes looking up like I did. And this is her usual conversational speed when being an agent, apparently.

Now my godmom called earlier, trying to say "Hey, we don't like being treated like crap." Agent pretended to not hear her. At all. So she emailed me through my godmom's email since that's what we're using as the main one, "I am a Certifed Real Estate Appraiser and know the value of things." And later on in the email, she said, "Every time you make out a rent chck you are losing money." You can see why I'm fed up with this lady. She doesn't listen, makes those smarmy comments, and it gets old. Fast.

My godmom still wants to use her, but goes, "I feel like I'm in a hard place between you and her." I'm sorry, what?! I'm sorry I don't want you treated like a doormat because the agent wants a quick sale fast and is telling you, full stop, what you want and don't...and is unwilling to take you to the locations so you can see for yourself. She's done it from the beginning. It's giving my godmom ulcer problems for the past three or four days. We have another agent lined up, and she's like "Well, there's no reason we can't use both." Well, other than the fact the current one is telling us to take the first one we saw that we liked, on the first day, without looking at any other comparables, sure. And the fact she ignores everything you say, bullies and bosses you around. Tells you that your daughter's diabetes and elderly dog's care should be a second or third priority to getting a condo, absolutely. Why not believe she has your best interests at heart.

I finally just said "Fine, then don't take me into consideration." I'm sorry, I'm tired of getting four-five emails a day not listening, having to repeat the same goddamn statements of why we don't like this or that condo (like it'll need 15k in work before it's livable for her needs), and we keep getting shown the same thing and hammered to buy one that she can make quick money off of. Gee, that's a good reference. I'm so over that, though. Because she's making my mom physically ill. And my godmom just takes it rather than rock the boat. I'd rather rock the boat than be spoken down to like that, especially by someone that will earn a hefty commission check. Now mom's in another snit. Considering she never seems to get out of those, whatever. I'll just deal like I always do. But I'm not apologizing and backing down this time. I don't think it's wrong to expect your real estate agent to treat you some courtesy.

But what do I know?

Totally Tubular!

Guys! Guys! OMG!1!!! *bounces on feet* I've been reduced to teeny speak! My dad called when I got back earlier, and told me that he's paying for my car insurance for the next six months (which is about 200 bucks), an old credit card debit (like close to 2 grand), and whatever financial aid doesn't cover. Holy shit, y'all. The only requirement was to find a job, which duh, I'll do after Labor Day, when all this shit's in order. *boogies* This is awesome, y'all. Like beyond. This is unreal. Looks like granddad's 10k will provision came through.

AND! My day got even better when my BlackBerry arrived. Well, technically it's my godmom's but she bought it for me since I need a new phone. It's not good when you have wonky miscommunication. As in, I can hear them and answer, but they can't hear me. So! She got me a new phone, said BlackBerry. It's a refurbished 7103c. I have no idea what it does, but damn it was 40 bucks with signing up for two more years. Mama let me decide on what I wanted, since I'd be using it. *grins* I can't play with it until tomorrow since it has to charge up....but dude.

News at 11: Catfight at local bar

All right, so we've established I have a very messed up family, and really, is it any wonder I decided perhaps it might be a good idea to get some professional help? Now, since I was on my dad's insurance at the time, we did the co-pay route. That meant I went to one my stepdad recommended. However, the person I requested wasn't taking anymore people, so I got someone straight out of school, I swear.

Why do I think this? Well, she insinuated my problems with dear old stepmom was from jealousy. Yeah, no. My school counselor said the same thing, but the problem is neither one had met the woman in question. (This is the woman that was about 160 lbs and wore a midriff and daisy dukes out in public. She's rouuugh, too. Seriously. Oh! I can show you the pic. *runs off to get the link* Here you go. Don't consume food or drink while looking, unless it's brain bleach.) They also pooh-poohed the maternal influences in my life. Sure, I bet they have a usually drunk mother. I'm so sure. And a manipulative godmom. Really, I wanna see their personal life credentials.

I went to the lady for about four months, once or twice a week depending, before she came up with the bright idea of getting all my family together. The list includes: me, dad, mom, stepmom, and godmom. My stepdad was invited but decided that it would be safer out of the line of fire. Bless his heart. He had the right idea. I told the therapist that it was a very, very bad idea. But hey, what do I know? I only live with the people.

So we're all sitting around, trying to let me unload all my problems they've forced on me (why it wasn't done individually, I'll never know). But I do it, and surprise, surprise my stepmom turns around and starts attacking my mom and godmom. Saying this that and the other. Riiiight, bright idea, genius. I have a temper like my mom, only it's hard to set off, so when my stepmom got in my mom's face, pointing at her and calling her a drunk, I knew no good could come from this. My dad, unsurprisingly, was silent the whole time. Daddy doesn't talk much, he thinks about things before commenting. My mom and godmom who normally never get along were together in beating the bitch who made my life hard. Never mind it was because I was their property. Anyway, long story short, the meeting broke up soon after because my mom was ready to deck stepmom. It got ugly fast. And I never went back to the therapist, as she never called to schedule another appointment, and it's not like she has a single brain cell anyway. I didn't miss her too much.

Now this was in January of 98, I think. On Valentine's Day, I got a call late at night. My aunt was calling to tell me that my mom was seen at the bar trying to attack my stepmom. Normally I wouldn't cheer my mom on, but stupid stepmom went into my mom's hangout for the past 20 years and thought she'd be welcome. Apparently, Aunt's (that'd be the recently dead one) friend said my mom froze up when she saw the couple come in, and was trying to be cordial when my daddy (bless his dumb heart) stopped by to say hello. They were talking low, and all of my sudden my mom comes out with "No one treats my daughter like that!" and ready to start swinging. For the record, mom? Was drunk off her ass, but that's not unusual. Aunt's friend said, "whoever her daughter is, I wouldn't want to her mom after me." The friend had no idea that the one ready to fight was my mom. It was pretty priceless apparently.

Right after my godmom hung up with aunt, my mom called. She explained a lot of the same things my aunt had told, but there was more! You see, they did start cat fighting, or nearly as one could in the small space. My dad was trying to move my stepmom out of the bar (and hee! she was permanently thrown out of the bar after that), and my stepdad was holding my mom back. Bad, bad idea. Like colossal. You see, we've all told R (stepdad) that when my mom's fighting, just let her finish it. Don't stop her, don't attempt it. Bad, bad. Apparently, he didn't listen. So while his trying to hold her back, she reached around and grabbed him by the balls. Oh, that's not the worst of it. My mom has long, rounded sharp nails. So imaging them squeezing him really hard. It had to hurt, especially since he was attempting to keep my mom held at the same time. Mom was told to go out of the bar for the night and come back when she'd calmed down.

See, this is when it's useful to be a regular. Hell, I went into the bar looking for my mom when I was something like five, cause I have vague recollections of it. And I went in as a high school senior because of who she was. After I got out of school, she and R would meet up for drinks, so around 3 we'd go over. I loved it, honestly. Seriously, I knew half the patrons for most of my life. Nice and convenient. Though, kinda skeezy when someone my dad's age was hitting on me. Damn rack brought the pervs.

Now, my stepmom, bless her dumbass self, said that never happened. Never mind we had an independent source tell us the same story. To date, the best Valentine's Day present ever. Seriously, who could top that? My mom fucked my stepmom's shit up for trying to emotionally abuse me (okay, fine, she totally did) when I was her property, and for calling her a drunk when my stepmom moved in my dad after knowing him a grand total of a month and had gotten her eviction notice a month before she met him. Oh, and my dad and stepmom? Met at the same bar she was banned from. Haha! But that's a story for another time. A good story though.

This? Is a normal day in the life of me.

(Oh, and to clarify, the bar is really a redneck honky tonk. So imagine the fight in that kind of setting.)

Well, shit on a cracker

Not bringing the funny, sorry.

So, my godmom and I get along for the most part. I love her, and she loves me. However, she has this problem: passive-aggressive, guilting you into doing exactly what you want type behaviour. She's 74. She does it because her mom did it to her. Which gives her a little bit of wiggle-room, but after 25 years, I'm just slightly over it. Just a little.

Whatever I'm feeling, it's broadcast loudly and clearly. You can't miss it. So, I had asked my godmom to buy my kitten the birthday present since I'm presently broke. Like, I have enough to pay for my insurance and to eat for a bit, but that's it. I asked her this awhile back, and I found a cheap but functional thing. For 17.34, I could get a two-story cloth cat condo and a little one-story hammock. It was pretty okay. But she didn't want to buy it. You know that face, the mom face? The mouth twists down to a frown and the look of "I don't think so" comes over the face? Yeah, I got that one. Which normally it doesn't bother me. I'm used to that sort of thing because I'm forever doing something wrong.

So while I was waiting on her to catch up on me, I was muttering some not so nice things under my breath. I was pissed and hurt because I had told her ahead of time how much it was cost, at least a rounded up "around 15 bucks." Just to make sure she knew it'd be more than 10, less than 20. It depends on the store at times. I used the c word. I use that word...maybe twice every two years. I don't like it, I never have. And I also really, really appreciate what my godmom does for me. I'm not stupid; I know I'm lucky. But I just get tired of the mind games. Seriously, I could give lessons on how to win an argument through manipulation before you're eight. Battle ground from womb on.

So I wasn't surprised after showing my displeasure when in the car, my godmom goes "With your lip poked out like that, you look like your mother." My instant reply, "Thank you!" Now, comparing me to my mom is like the most cruel thing you can do. The woman is the most selfish woman I've met. I just can't even describe the anger in those words. Me, I'm the opposite for the most part. I'll give you the bra off my boobs if you need it. Not because I get to tell everyone about the good deed like my mom, but because it's the right thing to do. I have a pretty solid moral compass. It doesn't waiver, and I don't think it ever will. I'm pretty solid in my beliefs. My mom cheated on my dad because he didn't give her enough sex and she didn't want to have me in the first place. She called me names like bitch by the time I was 12. She was jealous of all the advantages my godmom gave me because no one did it for her growing up. She thinks she knows all about my diabetes when she talks ot me about 5 minutes every three months. Yeah. So comparing me? Hurt like a mother. And my godmom knew it would.

Right now? Not so much talking to her. And I probably won't for a couple hours. Don't worry, though. My showing displeasure will be something I'll pay for in the coming weeks and months. She skips the hours and days and goes straight for the whole hog. Lovely.

Oh, and she spends about 40-50 a month on diet pills. At 74. While crash dieting. And not exercising. Then complains when she can't fit into her St. John Knits that are made for fashion sized 14, which is like a 10 on normal people. She has got a closet full of clothes but she refuses to face the fact at 74, she's not 40 anymore. Her body doesn't work that way. And it's something I have to discuss with her daily. Her body issues make mine look positive. Imagine doing this on a daily basis. Passive-aggressive swipes get old real fast.

Gee, why do I want to move out?

Toilet and all

For another story of my moms family's....unusualness, I'll introduce y'all to Uncle T. Now, all my mom's brothers (and hell, my step-father) are alcoholics. Uncle T is a mean drunk. Oh, yes. Unlike my Uncle C, who is awesomesauce when drunk...unless it's his ex-wife. He's also got the family pride, temper, and lack of common sense. You'll see all those come into play by the end of this post. Okay, that's enough of back story.

My Uncle T and Aunt L were getting a divorce about 10 years ago. They were the fist-fighting, screaming at each other sorts of arguers, so you can imagine the hell that went on when they were mad. Now, they lived in squaller. I do mean that, too. My two cousins had pet roaches. Seriously. I know this because I used to stay there before school. And I hated the way it smelled. Talk about junk collectors. They were renting the house, I think. Hell, they might have owned it for all I know. I can't be certain. Anyway, if you've ever seen Animal Cops on Animal Planet, the hoarder houses? Yeah, pretty much. Just don't add the too many animals to it.

Okay, so my uncle and aunt were fighting, arguing over something but no one's ever said. He got so angry that he went and ripped the toilet off the floor. No, really. Straight up and broke the bolts. The worst part? That was the only bathroom in the house. So they had to go out to a trailer next to the house that held the rest of their shit to shit. Oh, yes. We're a winning family. Of course, there was also a weird shed on the property that held lawn mowers and possibly a pig or two, along with two small cornfields on either side. Oh, yes. White trash representing. And they picked the corn. Ahem, got side-tracked. Sorry.

Now, it's guaranteed that he was drinking, since alcoholic and the day ended on Y. And they kept arguing after the destruction of the toilet. It got to the point that he went and pulled out his handgun. Because in this family, meaning my mom's, you had better be prepared for anything. In a case of infinite wisdom, he started waving it around while Aunt L was outside. Pissed off, he shot it.

No, no. He didn't shoot her. You see, he shot it straight ahead, so it went into the woods across the street. But the story doesn't end here. You see, there happened to be someone jugging over by the trees. Not just anyone, but an off-duty cop. Of course, he had his radio on him because sleepy town or not, there's some crazy people in the world. He called it in and I think had his gun, too.

So my uncle was arrested for shooting a gun while drunk. He served time, but I'm not sure how long, and then was put on probation. Aunt L also ended up divorcing him because she wasn't gonna live with his crazy ass. Can't say I blame her really. This is also the same guy that tries to tell me what the best job for me would be. Uh huh. Because he's got awesome thought processes like that.

The toilet didn't get fixed for about six months.

My family? Fodder for a book, seriously. No one would believe these things happen.

Plight of the Dead

My mom's family is, shall we say, unique. Not just redneck, but redneck white trash. So funerals are a fun experience. Like finding out who bathed, who didn't, who's coming in overalls or jeans (that'd be over half), who dressed up (a little less than 1/4th), and finally, who's coming with who since they all pretty much date in the family. Oh, yes. We are an inbreed clan, and that folks is why I don't date. I'm sorry, it doesn't interest me to date my third cousin; removed or not, still sharing the same tree.

Now, my aunt died two Fridays ago, and we buried her last Tuesday (a week ago). The day before my mother's birthday. Oh, yes, my family has spectacular timing when deciding to die. So, everyone's in all their glory, most looking like ship-wrecked idiots that don't own a razor. Seriously, my family? LOVES the scruffy, unkempt look. It's rather sad. Nothing like seeing your uncles dressed in jeans, flannel shirt, and jean jacket with a hat on. Oh, yes, even in the chapel, the hat stays on. And not just any hat, but a trucker one! We rule, really. I had to piece together something quickly since I couldn't find pants that fit at Lane Bryant, but I still looked ten - no, twenty - times better than these people.

There were eight surviving children, two dead. Now it's seven, and all the siblings sat with their significant others (if they had one, which surprisingly, Denim Uncle did not). The nieces and nephews sat behind their parents. So, I being the smart person, dragged my godmom to sit with me. What? These people are nuts, I ain't stupid. And then, when my step-siblings asked if they were supposed to sit with us, I jumped on that bad boy, too. We had nearly a whole pew all to ourselves. Oh, there were a couple great-aunt's but hell if I know their names. One's nickname is Snooks. Oh, yes, you know you're jealous.

So on my left was godmom and on my right was my step-sister with her son on the lap. Next to her was my other step-sister, sitting with our niece. We'll call the one with the two kids Sister A and the other Sister J. So, we're sitting there, listening to the first preacher (because oh yes my aunt had two preachers), and going "Okay, this is going along good. Annnny minute now, we'll be done." But alas, that was a pipe dream.

You see, it was time for Preacher Two to step up and speak. And this man sees all of us as a congregation, which as I told Sister A, "we're the captive congregation." I mean, I went through the same thing with my grandfather's funeral. Same guy, same sermon. Oh, yes, it was a sermon. Lots of loud talking, telling us to accept Jesus into our life or we'd never see my aunt in Paradise. Now, I'm not particularly religious. I have my spiritual beliefs and that's about it. But I don't begrudge people their choice of dealing with their spiritual side. However, I don't particularly think a funeral's the time for a 45 minute sermon on the evils of life at a funeral. Did we discuss my aunt? Not unless you count a few sprinklings of meeting her in Paradise.

Can't have a pesky thing like the dead person's contributions being talking about. Okay, so she wasn't Mother Teresa, but she was pretty nice when not being vain about it. I loved her anyway. So, I'm sitting there, doing my best to not nod off since that what I always do in sermons. So, I'm all, blahblahblah, until it was time to view the casket.

I don't like looking at dead people. I haven't since I was about 12. So, needless to say, this wasn't the most fun thing for me, but I did it for my pride. What? I wasn't gonna let the family say something about me. They already think I'm abnormal for not being married or divorced with three kids at my hip. Now, after everyone else in the world's looked at her, it's the family's turn. And lemme tell you, that's jacked up. Family? Should be the first to say goodbye. Primarily because the chapel was about 60% full and that was a long wait. Anyway, so we go see her, and it didn't occur at the time, but seriously...little kids? Shouldn't have to see dead bodies.

My niece, let's call her K, was crying over seeing the dead body, and with a two-year-old on Sister A's lap, I took Little A. Sister A looked alarmed, said "No, he doesn't like that." And by that time, Little A was sitting on my lap watching his sister cry and trying to figure out what was going on. He didn't utter a peep. All I told him was "Sissy needs to sit with your mama right now, and I'll give you back in just a minute." He was fine. Both my step-sisters looked flabbergasted. Which is odd because kids usually love me. I'm pretty personable, really. And I was talking to Little A very calmly so K could get the attention she needed. It all worked out, I think.

Then I went to the grave site for the lowering. Over the whole family thing by then, I skipped on the at the home talking about her bit and went to the library to get my books. *grins* Luckily, it was two doors down. Hey, why waste the gas?

And that is the story of the captive congregation. I wonder if other areas have that, or it's just this special guy's spiel.