Ok. So I have been hugely delinquent in my posting, but I was off on the WORST 'VACATION' EVER. (I'm thinking of trademarking that title, actually.)
Not all parts were bad. But the parts that were bad....well, they more than made up for the good parts.
I have started, and been working on, a post about our experience with the lovely hotel since my return from said hotel a week ago. Also, our trip to the ninth circle of hell, or the local auto mall(s). After about 2 paragraphs, I'm too irritated to continue.
(this means something. Irritation is usually my muse.)
I said something to a coworker today that I think is an accurate description of myself.
"I used to be painfully shy. Then I got pissed off and stayed that way."
And I sometimes wonder to myself why I have an ulcer and greying hair.
Anyway, all of that will be more fully explained later. For now....MEME!
(aside: The term "meme" makes me think {and laugh} about my old boss's children. to the four year old, a 'mimi' was a binkie, and to the 1 year old, it was a blankie. the baby would hold her blanket over her head like a ghost and wander around in circles saying to herself "mi-mi-mi-mi-mi........Mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi......" while her sister would wander around looking for her stolen binkie. Hilarity! Maybe you had to be there.)
A
Always: Find something to smile about. Sometimes harder than others.
Average:Is relative?
Age:25.52. Yes, I did the math. Officially closer to 30 than 20. Always the baby, right?
B
Beer: Is a good thing
Birthday: 3/12
Boast: I am thinner now than when I moved here. Bitches!
C
Crush: I would totally do the pretty boy that plays the green arrow on Smallville. And then make fun of the butt chin he is sporting.
Car: Please don't go there.
Cry: I need to allow myself more time for crying.
D
Days: Often spent watching the food network in my jammies, drinking coffee and dreading the hour when work is happening.
Dream:To be content, secure, happy, and financially stable. In Tuscany/a boat on the Mediterranean.
Dare: to keep kids off drugs? to eat adventurously! I love me some new food!
Drug: other than the periodic bout of emotional self flagellation, nothing.
E
Eggs: Don't much care for the eggs. Custard, however, is fair fucking game.
Email: I love it. I check it a lot. Send me an email.
Envy: Lifetime students.
F
Flavors: Not in combination, mind, but....Bleu Cheese, Roasted brussel sprouts with bacon, dungeness crab and CURRY! (and diet dr.pepper cherry vanilla. Sweet, sweet heroin.)
Favorites: Really good books, kitty cats, good photos, strong coffee, good Cabernet....flannel sheets!
Flaws: I smoke. I bottle my anger. I pick at my fingernails. This list would be very, very long.
Finicky:Not really. Control freak about my little life, but not finicky. Does that make sense?
G
Grateful: I am grateful for my intelligence, my red hair, my friends, the fact that I have food/clothing/running water/roof over my head......
Gifts: I can knit. I can cook like a motherfucker. I'm rather witty, sometimes.
Gum: Gum is reserved for when I try to quit smoking, therefore, I don't chew it.
Gross: Any kind of moldering food. I CANNOT DEAL.
H
Hair: is dark red and to my shoulders? Super curly but I beat that shit into submission with the straightening iron daily. Oh, and for another post--I haven't shampooed my hair in three weeks. I'm using this new cleansing conditioner....and it works.
Height: I am taller than average, but would like to be taller.
Happiest: Nook, Book, flannel. There it is. The recipe for happy, my friends.
Hate: intolerance of any kind.
I
Ice Cream: skinny cow.
Instrument: Bass clarinet.
Idols: People who live life totally honestly and without embarrassment--totally for themselves.
Independence: Thank you.
J
Jewelry: the St.Christopher's medal and the silver ring don't come off. Earrings change daily, and are usually very dangly and silver.
Jail: NO.
Jammies: Dad's Snohomish Tribes Tshirt and the ultimate jammie pants from target.
K
Kids: I love other people's children if they aren't brats.
Karaoke: I hate Thursdays. Almost as much as happy hour.
Kicks: Driving with loud music on, preferably Daft Punk, Fear Factory, Deftones, In Flames,or Tricky, lately.
L
Love: The blessings in my life.
Life: Ice skating uphill, mostly.
Lost: Not always a bad thing.
M
Milk: Don't do a lot of milk either. Again, with the custard.
Miss: Innocence.
Movies: if I can stay awake, sure!
Memory: Terrible.
N
Nails: They're fake. Sorry.
No: A word I could use more often.
Name: Chuck Palahniuk used it in a novel because he thought "It's the most horrible name for a woman ever."
Never: forget to preheat the oven
O
Ordinary: Shoe size.
One: reason I like my job
Office: HAHAHAHAHA.
Only: so much patience
P
Pet Peeves: lateness
Primal urge: Cull the herd.
Personality: Strong.
Pain: Red heads have a higher tolerance for pain, did you know that?
Q
Quick: to laugh
Quirk: I will push my glasses up my nose when they aren't on my face, so I just poke myself in the bridge of my nose. Super attractive.
Qualms: people who act like F&B workers are in a lower caste than they.
Quest: To be the best me I can be. (So, so, so cliche. Sorry.)
R
Reason: I can be overly logical sometimes. Is that possible?
Reality TV: HATE.
Rage: Mine's named Carl. He lives inside me all the time.
Regret:I try not to.
S
Season: Autumn.
Shoes: Running shoes or flip flops.
Silly: am i tired? Then probably.
T
Tattoos: Indeed.
Time: Did you know you can get a lot done if you don't sleep or eat?
Ticklish: I will tear your arm off.
Taste: Saturated colors, mostly. Modern, clean.
Torment: High heeled shoes.
U
Undress: For bathing.
Unpredictable: Some things in my life are
Unfortunate: wardrobe choices on SO. MANY. PEOPLE. It's like the white trash olympics out there, people!
Unforgettable: Mostly bad stuff with some good stuff sprinkled on. Like the weddings this year, those were good.
V
Vegetables: I love them
Virgin: Islands? Records?
Vacation: Dirty, filthy word.
Voice: Not as attractive as I think it is in my head.
W
Worst Habit: Smoking, cutting myself down
Wish: To be totally satisfied in every way
Waste: I try not to. Really.
Wander: I should do this more.
X
X-Rated: Can be hilarious.
X-Rays: The last real one I had, I threatened to kill the nurse. She moved my foot in a way it DID NOT WANT TO GO--hell, after that, did we even need to see if it was broken?
X-marks the spot: I got nothing.
Y
Year born: What's next, my ssn?
Yes: to diet pepsi
Yellow: My old kitchen! With the stenciled hummingbirds! SO UGLY.
Yearn: To get the masters degree
Z
Zodiac: Pisces
Zealous: with my pours when bartending. Ssssh, don't tell.
Zzzz: Oh, yes, baby.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Blink
I'm not buying the car.
Please re-surge the good vibes. Thanks.
Apparently, when the girl listed the car as "totally clean and sound! Just a few bumps on the back bumper!" she was either a)lying or b)an idiot. I'm going with the second one.
I told her I wanted the car inspected to see if any major mechanical work needed to be done, and that I would pay for it. She agreed. We also signed an agreement stating that if there was any major work that needed to be done, we would adjust the sale of the car accordingly.
She calls me with the results of the inspection, and says....
"I'm not really mechanically inclined, so i don't really know what this stuff means, but the timing belt needs replacing, the valve gasket covers are leaking, the water pump needs to be redone, one of the blades on the cooling fan is broken, the serpentine belt needs to be replaced and the coolant flushed. Call me!"
So I do. In a panic. I, also not mechanically inclined, but not an idiot, understand that the aforementioned things equal 1)Serious money and 2)I'm not paying this much money for a car that needs that much work.
So I call her. I explain that this is bad. That I will not buy the car unless these things are fixed.
She tells me she will replace the timing belt (apparently the only thing with an exclamation point next to it on her notes) and that's it.
I tell her I'm sorry, but I cannot buy this car for that price and need to get all that work done.
She tells me she will split the repairs with me.
I tell her, NO, she won't.
She tells me she will come down $900 in price.
Nope.
She then proceeds to start crying. (She is using this money to go to china in like, a week. Who doesn't sell their car for trip money until a week before?)
She can't afford the repairs, and she can't afford to take less than $900 off the price.
Sorry.
I tell her I understand, and that I truly am sorry. I genuinely want this car, but it is not feasible.
THEN! She gets mad.
"I just really wish I had a head's up. If I had known this car needed to be in perfect condition for you to pay full price for it, I would have shown it to other people."
Silence.
"I'm just being honest.", she tells me.
"You do know that you advertised this car for being in perfect condition with all the maintenance records up to date, and all services needed had been performed, right?", I tell her. "You do know that isn't the truth, now, right?"
"I'm in a real pickle (she actually said pickle.) now, that's all."
I told her that I would still pay for the inspection, which in my mind is fair. She then took my mailing address and hung up on me.
No Jetta for me.
Oh well. Such is my life. Nothing can be easy. I guess it's off the the Auto Mall, (also known as "The Eighth Circle of Hell") to go shopping. Kill me.
T's sister is getting married this weekend. T's car is dead, dead, dead. Bye Bye Jeep, it's been good knowing you. Sigh.
I'm not going to California for my vacation. I'm going....somewhere we haven't decided on yet. Car shopping, probably.
I hate my job and all things involved with it. So there.
Consider yourselves updated!
Please re-surge the good vibes. Thanks.
Apparently, when the girl listed the car as "totally clean and sound! Just a few bumps on the back bumper!" she was either a)lying or b)an idiot. I'm going with the second one.
I told her I wanted the car inspected to see if any major mechanical work needed to be done, and that I would pay for it. She agreed. We also signed an agreement stating that if there was any major work that needed to be done, we would adjust the sale of the car accordingly.
She calls me with the results of the inspection, and says....
"I'm not really mechanically inclined, so i don't really know what this stuff means, but the timing belt needs replacing, the valve gasket covers are leaking, the water pump needs to be redone, one of the blades on the cooling fan is broken, the serpentine belt needs to be replaced and the coolant flushed. Call me!"
So I do. In a panic. I, also not mechanically inclined, but not an idiot, understand that the aforementioned things equal 1)Serious money and 2)I'm not paying this much money for a car that needs that much work.
So I call her. I explain that this is bad. That I will not buy the car unless these things are fixed.
She tells me she will replace the timing belt (apparently the only thing with an exclamation point next to it on her notes) and that's it.
I tell her I'm sorry, but I cannot buy this car for that price and need to get all that work done.
She tells me she will split the repairs with me.
I tell her, NO, she won't.
She tells me she will come down $900 in price.
Nope.
She then proceeds to start crying. (She is using this money to go to china in like, a week. Who doesn't sell their car for trip money until a week before?)
She can't afford the repairs, and she can't afford to take less than $900 off the price.
Sorry.
I tell her I understand, and that I truly am sorry. I genuinely want this car, but it is not feasible.
THEN! She gets mad.
"I just really wish I had a head's up. If I had known this car needed to be in perfect condition for you to pay full price for it, I would have shown it to other people."
Silence.
"I'm just being honest.", she tells me.
"You do know that you advertised this car for being in perfect condition with all the maintenance records up to date, and all services needed had been performed, right?", I tell her. "You do know that isn't the truth, now, right?"
"I'm in a real pickle (she actually said pickle.) now, that's all."
I told her that I would still pay for the inspection, which in my mind is fair. She then took my mailing address and hung up on me.
No Jetta for me.
Oh well. Such is my life. Nothing can be easy. I guess it's off the the Auto Mall, (also known as "The Eighth Circle of Hell") to go shopping. Kill me.
T's sister is getting married this weekend. T's car is dead, dead, dead. Bye Bye Jeep, it's been good knowing you. Sigh.
I'm not going to California for my vacation. I'm going....somewhere we haven't decided on yet. Car shopping, probably.
I hate my job and all things involved with it. So there.
Consider yourselves updated!
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Ta-Da!
Oh, so that thing I didn't want to jinx myself over?
never fear, my darlings, here it is.
As of today....My new car. (Your good-vibe-oozeage worked! Thanks, guys!)
Oh, and the best part? It's a TDI. 50 mpg.
I pick it up next weekend.
Start thinking of names!
never fear, my darlings, here it is.
As of today....My new car. (Your good-vibe-oozeage worked! Thanks, guys!)
Oh, and the best part? It's a TDI. 50 mpg.
I pick it up next weekend.
Start thinking of names!
50+what?
I really, really wish that the payroll office at my job was not filled with morons.
Really.
Again with the missing hours! Again with the missing paystubs! Again!
Sigh.
Its a long story.
Hey--everyone needs to cross their fingers and wish me luck on the endeavour I am taking tomorrow--I don't want to jinx myself, so I'm not mentioning it.....yet. But I really, really, really want it to work. REALLY. Totally fucking awesome.
So ooze me some positive vibes, peeps!
Really.
Again with the missing hours! Again with the missing paystubs! Again!
Sigh.
Its a long story.
Hey--everyone needs to cross their fingers and wish me luck on the endeavour I am taking tomorrow--I don't want to jinx myself, so I'm not mentioning it.....yet. But I really, really, really want it to work. REALLY. Totally fucking awesome.
So ooze me some positive vibes, peeps!
Saturday, September 1, 2007
The Unspoken Word
Some of you may know this.
A one-way-ticket to making me incredibly angry is to put words in my mouth, and then use them against me. Just putting words in my mouth will make me angry, actually. I am a very....outspoken person, usually, and won't mince my words--I say what I mean. Therefore, when someone takes those words, adds to them, and paints me as an asshole or attempts to 'guilt' me with them, well, it doesn't sit well.
Add in the fact that I finally have some time off without family, and I am fucking sick as hell with some tummy bug (damn you, tummy bug!) and your final result is....well, this post.
I have made it plain to both offending parties (Indeed. Two completely separate people, two completely separate instances, both yesterday, just what I need.) that this shit ain't gonna fly.....
And yet, it continues. The histrionics, the manipulation. Kill me.
One, of course, is my mother. surprise surprise!
Mom called me yesterday, and says to me, "I need to ask you something, and I know you're going to say no." (then why ask?)
"I need you to come here and help me pack and then drive to where you live." (approx 700 miles from where she is)
My response?
I burst into tears. I feel like SHIT--I'm sick, I'm tired, my fucking dad just fucking died, I have to do all this shit in regards to that, I didn't work for two weeks so I don't have any goddamn money, I have to work as much as I can because I'm taking a week off for T's sisters wedding, and the idea of going there and dealing with her (especially in a motor home. With three cats in it, as well as mom) just....well, I couldn't handle it.
Do you think hearing her daughter sob would be enough for her to say, "Oh, no, honey, don't do it. I understand, totally, that you have too much on your plate right now."
No.
She gets nasty, whilst I cry. "I'm not going to BEG!", "I know you don't want me there!", "Why can't you do this? I haven't seen you for so long!" and on, and on, and on, with the guilt.
I cried some more. Told her all of the aforementioned things. Told her that I didn't want anything bad to happen to her, that I would help her if I could, but I just can't right now.
Suddenly, her tone changes. Cold. (this is common when mom doesn't get her way.)
"I never get what I want! Never! How am I going to do this by myself?"
(Aside: There is no fucking way in hell that I would do this with her, even if I was healthy and all the other crap was going on. I went back there just over a year ago to help her pack because she was moving, and 'help' turned into T and I doing everything while she drank was was awful. She will just sit there and do nothing except get wasted and be abusive--and if I give her an inch she takes a mile. If I were to do this for her, she would want me to go back with her in the spring, go to Arizona with her after that, and of course, spend my own {nonexistent} money to get back. But I really don't want anything bad to happen to her.)
The crying continues, and she realizes that badgering is not making me mad, or change my mind, so she caves. She is kind again, and gets off the phone.
Twenty minutes later, the phone rings again. I answer.
"Oh. I was just going to leave a message."
Seriously? I was here 20 minutes ago, did you really thing I got my sick ass out of the house with no car in that little time?
I ask her what she needs.
"I want you to forget that we had that conversation. Forget that I even asked you. I am not going to be HOMELESS, so there's nothing for you to worry about."
Homeless? Who said anything about homeless? I ask.
"You!"
Wait.
Oh, nope, wasn't me, sorry.
"You did too!" (she does this a lot.)
Now, well, now we're fighting. I'm PISSED, now, that she is doing this. How dare she treat me like this? How dare she play down my fathers death and make it all about her? how dare she manipulate me now, or ever? Sure, I shouldn't have risen to the bait, but, well....I'm fallible.
I laid it out for her. Not that she listens, she just talks over the top of you.
"Mom, it's not all about you. I didn't say that you were going to be fucking homeless, and you know it. Stop making me out to be the bad guy--stop looking to me for someone to blame when you fail. You should have planned this out when you bought the fucking motor home. Stop taking the blame away from yourself in this being 'not your idea to ask me', its bullshit. You expect me to treat you like an adult when you continually act like a child, and yet you treat me like a piece of shit in return. I'm over it."
She yelled some, and I hung up.
This morning (I'M FUCKING SICK! HOW MANY TIMES TO I HAVE TO TELL THIS WOMAN THAT I AM SICK, THEREFORE SLEEPING, THEREFORE DON'T FUCKING CALL ME BECAUSE THE PHONE WILL WAKE ME UP?), bright and early, (7am) she calls and leaves a ridiculous message on the answering machine, babbling, and then at the end she says (AND I QUOTE!)
"Forget that I asked you. I have lost too much, I won't lose my kid too."
How sad. She lost me long, long ago, and doesn't know it.
I asked her, once, a while ago, if she knew anything about me. My favorite food, color, what my most treasured possession was.
Nope. No idea. No idea what I want to do with my life, no idea about the ins-and outs of T's and My's relationship, whether or not we have a good relationship, what our plans are, what kind of car I want to drive...nothing. I don't think she cares.
Is that normal?
A one-way-ticket to making me incredibly angry is to put words in my mouth, and then use them against me. Just putting words in my mouth will make me angry, actually. I am a very....outspoken person, usually, and won't mince my words--I say what I mean. Therefore, when someone takes those words, adds to them, and paints me as an asshole or attempts to 'guilt' me with them, well, it doesn't sit well.
Add in the fact that I finally have some time off without family, and I am fucking sick as hell with some tummy bug (damn you, tummy bug!) and your final result is....well, this post.
I have made it plain to both offending parties (Indeed. Two completely separate people, two completely separate instances, both yesterday, just what I need.) that this shit ain't gonna fly.....
And yet, it continues. The histrionics, the manipulation. Kill me.
One, of course, is my mother. surprise surprise!
Mom called me yesterday, and says to me, "I need to ask you something, and I know you're going to say no." (then why ask?)
"I need you to come here and help me pack and then drive to where you live." (approx 700 miles from where she is)
My response?
I burst into tears. I feel like SHIT--I'm sick, I'm tired, my fucking dad just fucking died, I have to do all this shit in regards to that, I didn't work for two weeks so I don't have any goddamn money, I have to work as much as I can because I'm taking a week off for T's sisters wedding, and the idea of going there and dealing with her (especially in a motor home. With three cats in it, as well as mom) just....well, I couldn't handle it.
Do you think hearing her daughter sob would be enough for her to say, "Oh, no, honey, don't do it. I understand, totally, that you have too much on your plate right now."
No.
She gets nasty, whilst I cry. "I'm not going to BEG!", "I know you don't want me there!", "Why can't you do this? I haven't seen you for so long!" and on, and on, and on, with the guilt.
I cried some more. Told her all of the aforementioned things. Told her that I didn't want anything bad to happen to her, that I would help her if I could, but I just can't right now.
Suddenly, her tone changes. Cold. (this is common when mom doesn't get her way.)
"I never get what I want! Never! How am I going to do this by myself?"
(Aside: There is no fucking way in hell that I would do this with her, even if I was healthy and all the other crap was going on. I went back there just over a year ago to help her pack because she was moving, and 'help' turned into T and I doing everything while she drank was was awful. She will just sit there and do nothing except get wasted and be abusive--and if I give her an inch she takes a mile. If I were to do this for her, she would want me to go back with her in the spring, go to Arizona with her after that, and of course, spend my own {nonexistent} money to get back. But I really don't want anything bad to happen to her.)
The crying continues, and she realizes that badgering is not making me mad, or change my mind, so she caves. She is kind again, and gets off the phone.
Twenty minutes later, the phone rings again. I answer.
"Oh. I was just going to leave a message."
Seriously? I was here 20 minutes ago, did you really thing I got my sick ass out of the house with no car in that little time?
I ask her what she needs.
"I want you to forget that we had that conversation. Forget that I even asked you. I am not going to be HOMELESS, so there's nothing for you to worry about."
Homeless? Who said anything about homeless? I ask.
"You!"
Wait.
Oh, nope, wasn't me, sorry.
"You did too!" (she does this a lot.)
Now, well, now we're fighting. I'm PISSED, now, that she is doing this. How dare she treat me like this? How dare she play down my fathers death and make it all about her? how dare she manipulate me now, or ever? Sure, I shouldn't have risen to the bait, but, well....I'm fallible.
I laid it out for her. Not that she listens, she just talks over the top of you.
"Mom, it's not all about you. I didn't say that you were going to be fucking homeless, and you know it. Stop making me out to be the bad guy--stop looking to me for someone to blame when you fail. You should have planned this out when you bought the fucking motor home. Stop taking the blame away from yourself in this being 'not your idea to ask me', its bullshit. You expect me to treat you like an adult when you continually act like a child, and yet you treat me like a piece of shit in return. I'm over it."
She yelled some, and I hung up.
This morning (I'M FUCKING SICK! HOW MANY TIMES TO I HAVE TO TELL THIS WOMAN THAT I AM SICK, THEREFORE SLEEPING, THEREFORE DON'T FUCKING CALL ME BECAUSE THE PHONE WILL WAKE ME UP?), bright and early, (7am) she calls and leaves a ridiculous message on the answering machine, babbling, and then at the end she says (AND I QUOTE!)
"Forget that I asked you. I have lost too much, I won't lose my kid too."
How sad. She lost me long, long ago, and doesn't know it.
I asked her, once, a while ago, if she knew anything about me. My favorite food, color, what my most treasured possession was.
Nope. No idea. No idea what I want to do with my life, no idea about the ins-and outs of T's and My's relationship, whether or not we have a good relationship, what our plans are, what kind of car I want to drive...nothing. I don't think she cares.
Is that normal?
Friday, August 31, 2007
Freedom
For the first time in three or more years, I can do anything I want and not have to worry about anyone else.
I can go to California in two weeks, and not stress the whole time.
I can go to T's sister's wedding, and have a great time.
It's totally foreign to me--Being able to go somewhere without telling anyone first, seeing if they need anything, telling them when I will be back. A life lived for myself.
My mom is now giving me the silent treatment because I won't give her another car.
Whatever. She's a child.
I can go to California in two weeks, and not stress the whole time.
I can go to T's sister's wedding, and have a great time.
It's totally foreign to me--Being able to go somewhere without telling anyone first, seeing if they need anything, telling them when I will be back. A life lived for myself.
My mom is now giving me the silent treatment because I won't give her another car.
Whatever. She's a child.
Insomnia!
It's really getting old, this not sleeping bullshit. Especially since all the condos around me have been rented by families with gaggles of children under the age of ten who wake up and begin shrieking (who knew the human voice could go so high?) between 7-8am. Kill me.
In response to the comment on my last post--Yep, Brian, it's you who lives in Rochester, NY and reads my blog. I'm on to you! ;) Also, I don't know where the parents of that child were. I do know that the grandparents were on a boat, staying in the marina in front of our restaurant, and I assume the parents were there. Who knows.
I think perhaps enough time has elapsed since my father's passing to fully extend to you all the behavior of my mother, the "Last Man Standing", since then.
My mother is insane.
My mother is an alcoholic.
My mother is selfish, manipulative and cruel.
With these things in mind....
Mom hated dad. I assume she loved him (or his bank account) at one time, as she was married to him for over a decade and had a child with him. (A child she snuck upon him, actually. I got the whole story from my sisters, finally, and found my parent's divorce papers, so I now know who said what and why and so on....Interesting.)
Mom hated my dad, hated the fact that I 'abandoned' her to come here and take care of him. (Granted, that's not what happened. Yes, I took care of dad, but not until I had been here a year or so.) She hates me because I refused to take any more of her shit, give her any more money, or allow her to abuse me.
When dad died, and I told her, she cried. I was confused by this....but she cries all the time anyway.
For the first few days she was great. Supportive, kind, she listened, expressed concern for my well being.
That has since ended.
It's now all about her. (as usual.) "I have two dead husbands!", she cried.
"I have two dead dads.", I responded.
"Your father's death just shook me up! It keeps bringing back all these terrible memories for me!" (she now tells me all of them while sobbing, smoking, and pausing to crack another beer. {Aside:My mother is doing the "its only beer! It's not real alcohol!" justification route. Sure, mom. I'll sit down and drink 40 Cokes while you drink forty beers and we'll see who's doing better at the end.})
"You had the service, what are you still sad for?"
Mostly she just talks, and talks, and talks, and rages on and on about how horrible I am to her. How I obviously don't love her because I am not back in that infernal hellhole where she is, since dad died. (she seriously thought that my first action after watching my dad die would be to jump in the car and go take care of her. Again.) About how she is going to move here now, whether I like it or not. How I am irresponsible, mean.
She talks and talks, and I say literally nothing. NOTHING! She's just babbling, she doesn't care who to.
I wish I had a family.
I have sisters, sure. But they aren't really my family. I do have my cousins.
But it's not the same.
I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself. My step dad, whom I loved more than anyone, gets shot. My father, with whom I had just recently began to foster a good relationship with, dies in front of me. My mother, who I do nothing but fight with disowns me (this is my 50th disownership, btw. Consistent, that woman.) and then acts like nothing is wrong and demands things of me that I will not give her. Oh, and she told me not to marry T.
(in her mind, if I get married, she is no longer my #1 priority. And if I get married, I will probably have kids, and then she isn't even in the top 3. What she doesn't understand is that for the first fucking time in my 25 years on this planet, I AM MY #1 PRIORITY.)
It's just exhausting, depressing.
I am really trying to not let my distaste for this woman spill over on to other people that I know. Let me clarify that--
Anyone who drinks to excess.
My mother has instilled a burning, seething hate for alcoholics in me. Even if someone closer to me than anyone else drinks too much--I feel that seething for them.
I try to hide it.
People can make their own choices, and I cannot and should not judge them for that. If you are an adult, you can do pretty much what you want within the confines of the law here in the USA and no one can tell you different.
Which is why I hide the seething. I get so. So. SO upset with T if he drinks too much--even if he drinks just enough to smell like alcohol. I don't want him to kiss me, sleep in the same bed as me, anything, if he smells like that. It repulses me, and I feel fucking guilty as hell about it--I love him--he IS my heart--He isn't doing anything wrong, nor should he have to change the fact that he has a few beers from time to time because I'm neurotic.
I have some wine now and again, but I don't think I have been intoxicated in a long, long time.
Double standard, much?
As I have said before--You can't push your morals onto other people--you will always be disappointed.
Sigh.
In response to the comment on my last post--Yep, Brian, it's you who lives in Rochester, NY and reads my blog. I'm on to you! ;) Also, I don't know where the parents of that child were. I do know that the grandparents were on a boat, staying in the marina in front of our restaurant, and I assume the parents were there. Who knows.
I think perhaps enough time has elapsed since my father's passing to fully extend to you all the behavior of my mother, the "Last Man Standing", since then.
My mother is insane.
My mother is an alcoholic.
My mother is selfish, manipulative and cruel.
With these things in mind....
Mom hated dad. I assume she loved him (or his bank account) at one time, as she was married to him for over a decade and had a child with him. (A child she snuck upon him, actually. I got the whole story from my sisters, finally, and found my parent's divorce papers, so I now know who said what and why and so on....Interesting.)
Mom hated my dad, hated the fact that I 'abandoned' her to come here and take care of him. (Granted, that's not what happened. Yes, I took care of dad, but not until I had been here a year or so.) She hates me because I refused to take any more of her shit, give her any more money, or allow her to abuse me.
When dad died, and I told her, she cried. I was confused by this....but she cries all the time anyway.
For the first few days she was great. Supportive, kind, she listened, expressed concern for my well being.
That has since ended.
It's now all about her. (as usual.) "I have two dead husbands!", she cried.
"I have two dead dads.", I responded.
"Your father's death just shook me up! It keeps bringing back all these terrible memories for me!" (she now tells me all of them while sobbing, smoking, and pausing to crack another beer. {Aside:My mother is doing the "its only beer! It's not real alcohol!" justification route. Sure, mom. I'll sit down and drink 40 Cokes while you drink forty beers and we'll see who's doing better at the end.})
"You had the service, what are you still sad for?"
Mostly she just talks, and talks, and talks, and rages on and on about how horrible I am to her. How I obviously don't love her because I am not back in that infernal hellhole where she is, since dad died. (she seriously thought that my first action after watching my dad die would be to jump in the car and go take care of her. Again.) About how she is going to move here now, whether I like it or not. How I am irresponsible, mean.
She talks and talks, and I say literally nothing. NOTHING! She's just babbling, she doesn't care who to.
I wish I had a family.
I have sisters, sure. But they aren't really my family. I do have my cousins.
But it's not the same.
I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself. My step dad, whom I loved more than anyone, gets shot. My father, with whom I had just recently began to foster a good relationship with, dies in front of me. My mother, who I do nothing but fight with disowns me (this is my 50th disownership, btw. Consistent, that woman.) and then acts like nothing is wrong and demands things of me that I will not give her. Oh, and she told me not to marry T.
(in her mind, if I get married, she is no longer my #1 priority. And if I get married, I will probably have kids, and then she isn't even in the top 3. What she doesn't understand is that for the first fucking time in my 25 years on this planet, I AM MY #1 PRIORITY.)
It's just exhausting, depressing.
I am really trying to not let my distaste for this woman spill over on to other people that I know. Let me clarify that--
Anyone who drinks to excess.
My mother has instilled a burning, seething hate for alcoholics in me. Even if someone closer to me than anyone else drinks too much--I feel that seething for them.
I try to hide it.
People can make their own choices, and I cannot and should not judge them for that. If you are an adult, you can do pretty much what you want within the confines of the law here in the USA and no one can tell you different.
Which is why I hide the seething. I get so. So. SO upset with T if he drinks too much--even if he drinks just enough to smell like alcohol. I don't want him to kiss me, sleep in the same bed as me, anything, if he smells like that. It repulses me, and I feel fucking guilty as hell about it--I love him--he IS my heart--He isn't doing anything wrong, nor should he have to change the fact that he has a few beers from time to time because I'm neurotic.
I have some wine now and again, but I don't think I have been intoxicated in a long, long time.
Double standard, much?
As I have said before--You can't push your morals onto other people--you will always be disappointed.
Sigh.
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