Drama at my Momma's
After calling the Mississippi Highway Patrol and being informed that both sides of I-55 were flowing northbound, I decided to stay up here. After all, going home sorta requires me to use the southbound lane.
So I was fortunate enough to still be around when some new family drama unfolded. It's about Aunt C. You know. My favorite aunt. For those of you not familiar with the history here, C stands for C*nt, and I have a lifetime of reasons for hating her. I once wrote a little short story about her and published it here on the blog, but I can't find it right now. I can't remember the title of the post or when it was written, and it may even have been on a previous blog. I've had several, and the old ones are floating out there in cyberspace somewhere. Anyway, the story ends with me murdering her with a screwdriver, and then her nine thousand pet Pomeranians eat her corpse. Real highbrow fiction. Some of my best work ever.
To sum up the Aunt C drama, she lied and said that their house caught fire and they were kicked out by the fire department. (She's been trying to find a way to move out of there for two years now, but apparently nobody wants to buy a house that is saturated with dog piss. Who knew?) So she and Gramma moved into Aunt C's daughter's house with her, her two kids, and her husband. And I'm sure that from the moment they moved in, Aunt C started with her usual insufferable bullshit. Her son in law happened to be off work because of an injury, and after tolerating her for about a month, he kicked her ass out earlier this week! Hahahahahaaah! So we just found out about it a couple of days ago, and now Aunt C and Gramma are back in the house that was never really uninhabitable to begin with (or at least no less inhabitable than it has been for the last 20 years), and she started calling people and trying to put them on guilt trips, claiming that they had no food, no electricity, etc. Well, my sister and I went over there Saturday evening to take them some food. We stopped and got them two big barbecue plates. When we got there, they were fine. Some wires in the kitchen apparently did start smoking, and there's currently no power in that one room, but they've got one of those larger mini fridges, and it's packed full of drinks and food. Aunt C sure as hell has her pc set up in the bedroom that she kicked my gramma out of, so they're doing well enough to have a phone line and internet service. There's a lot more to the back story than what I've described, but there's not space enough on the web for me to outline the details of all Aunt C's mistakes. One key detail is that she arranged her retirement payout so that she got a lot of money up front, and the amount she gets per month went way, way down when she turned 62, which just happened a month or so ago. So now she has only a few hundred dollars coming in every month. (Yeah, and meanwhile she's trying to sell my grandmother's house and take on a payment on a trailer?? WTF?)
Today when my dad and mom went over there to check on them, she went into drama queen mode and basically put on a childish little act. She's painted herself into a corner and now that she's stuck there, she's lashing out at everyone. It's everyone's fault, you see. It all goes back to her feeling sorry for herself, and she's furious that nobody else will play along. She's been screwing my grandmother over for years (squandered thousands upon thousands of dollars etc.) and everything about her life that sucks only sucks because she worked very hard and put in some serious effort towards MAKING it suck. My family members have been sitting around discussing "what to do with the situation." I say f*ck 'em. They made this bed themselves. They didn't see anything wrong with it until the sun started to set. Now I say sleep tight, dumbass. Their argument is that you can't let my grandmother suffer because of my aunt. There's some truth to that, of course, but my grandmother has been a willing participant in this clusterf*ck as long as it's been going on, so I don't even have that much sympathy for her. Still, she IS 86 years old, and unlike Aunt C she's not able bodied enough to go get a job and take care of herself. So I'd be happy to help her, and I will help her if I have the opportunity. But Aunt C? That bitch can go hungry, and I won't lose any sleep over it. If I'm lying awake at night thinking about her, you can bet your ass the only thought going through my mind is, Should I have used the chainsaw instead of the screwdriver?
If anyone remembers the title of that post, let me know. I know it's out there somewhere.
I'm going home tomorrow morning, and I'll spend the rest of the day throwing together lesson plans and scrambling to get my FMLA forms filled out by the doctor.
So I was fortunate enough to still be around when some new family drama unfolded. It's about Aunt C. You know. My favorite aunt. For those of you not familiar with the history here, C stands for C*nt, and I have a lifetime of reasons for hating her. I once wrote a little short story about her and published it here on the blog, but I can't find it right now. I can't remember the title of the post or when it was written, and it may even have been on a previous blog. I've had several, and the old ones are floating out there in cyberspace somewhere. Anyway, the story ends with me murdering her with a screwdriver, and then her nine thousand pet Pomeranians eat her corpse. Real highbrow fiction. Some of my best work ever.
To sum up the Aunt C drama, she lied and said that their house caught fire and they were kicked out by the fire department. (She's been trying to find a way to move out of there for two years now, but apparently nobody wants to buy a house that is saturated with dog piss. Who knew?) So she and Gramma moved into Aunt C's daughter's house with her, her two kids, and her husband. And I'm sure that from the moment they moved in, Aunt C started with her usual insufferable bullshit. Her son in law happened to be off work because of an injury, and after tolerating her for about a month, he kicked her ass out earlier this week! Hahahahahaaah! So we just found out about it a couple of days ago, and now Aunt C and Gramma are back in the house that was never really uninhabitable to begin with (or at least no less inhabitable than it has been for the last 20 years), and she started calling people and trying to put them on guilt trips, claiming that they had no food, no electricity, etc. Well, my sister and I went over there Saturday evening to take them some food. We stopped and got them two big barbecue plates. When we got there, they were fine. Some wires in the kitchen apparently did start smoking, and there's currently no power in that one room, but they've got one of those larger mini fridges, and it's packed full of drinks and food. Aunt C sure as hell has her pc set up in the bedroom that she kicked my gramma out of, so they're doing well enough to have a phone line and internet service. There's a lot more to the back story than what I've described, but there's not space enough on the web for me to outline the details of all Aunt C's mistakes. One key detail is that she arranged her retirement payout so that she got a lot of money up front, and the amount she gets per month went way, way down when she turned 62, which just happened a month or so ago. So now she has only a few hundred dollars coming in every month. (Yeah, and meanwhile she's trying to sell my grandmother's house and take on a payment on a trailer?? WTF?)
Today when my dad and mom went over there to check on them, she went into drama queen mode and basically put on a childish little act. She's painted herself into a corner and now that she's stuck there, she's lashing out at everyone. It's everyone's fault, you see. It all goes back to her feeling sorry for herself, and she's furious that nobody else will play along. She's been screwing my grandmother over for years (squandered thousands upon thousands of dollars etc.) and everything about her life that sucks only sucks because she worked very hard and put in some serious effort towards MAKING it suck. My family members have been sitting around discussing "what to do with the situation." I say f*ck 'em. They made this bed themselves. They didn't see anything wrong with it until the sun started to set. Now I say sleep tight, dumbass. Their argument is that you can't let my grandmother suffer because of my aunt. There's some truth to that, of course, but my grandmother has been a willing participant in this clusterf*ck as long as it's been going on, so I don't even have that much sympathy for her. Still, she IS 86 years old, and unlike Aunt C she's not able bodied enough to go get a job and take care of herself. So I'd be happy to help her, and I will help her if I have the opportunity. But Aunt C? That bitch can go hungry, and I won't lose any sleep over it. If I'm lying awake at night thinking about her, you can bet your ass the only thought going through my mind is, Should I have used the chainsaw instead of the screwdriver?
If anyone remembers the title of that post, let me know. I know it's out there somewhere.
I'm going home tomorrow morning, and I'll spend the rest of the day throwing together lesson plans and scrambling to get my FMLA forms filled out by the doctor.
Don't you love it when people say oh, but that is so mean? I actually have a Brother C, and to be honest,
But Aunt C? That bitch can go hungry, and I won't lose any sleep over it.
I would feel exactly the same way about him. Exactly.
Posted by
Anonymous |
4:28 AM
Maybe it's time to put Gramma in a nursing home and leave Aunt C to her own devices. At least Gramma will be taken care of, instead of just being taken.
Posted by
Anonymous |
12:49 PM