why didn't she just leave me the bowel obstruction that killed her
Back from family reunion and +100-degree weather in Texas and awful, awful birds that lurked under cars in parking lots with their beaks open to keep cool. Now that I'm back, I realize I need to revise part of my pre-reunion post:
"...Maternal Family, who all put on airs and talk about how wonderful they are and carry grudges until death. They're like Lucille Bluth and Emily Gilmore but without the fun and compassion.
... Okay, not *all* of them are like this, but there's a distinct meanness to them that I'm not looking forward to."
You know when you're seeing unpleasant people, so you prepare yourself and come up with little scathing retorts and whatnot, and feel pretty confident about not getting flustered? Well, my maternal family finds BRAND NEW UNEXPECTED WAYS to be nasty to you, fucking up all your wretched hopeful defences. They also have fantastic excuses for when they've been cruel to you:
MY MOM: "It's just a JOKE! Why do you have to take things so SERIOUSLY!!"
MY AUNT: "Just remember y'all, if I say things that sound pissed off or mean, it COMES FROM A PLACE OF LOVE."
YOU PEOPLE DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW JOKES AND/OR LOVE WORK I'M GUESSING
Also I got heatstroke while we were at the Dallas Heritage Village, which was dreadful and humiliating and went like this:
COSTUMED TOUR GUIDE WEARING AN ORANGE SHIRT AND SUSPENDERS BUT ALSO A HIPSTER QUIFF AND GLASSES: -- and here you can see the marks of the Sullivans' carpet, because this is the part of their Victorian house (oh sorry the aircon's not working today) that they kept curtained off with these huge heavy red curtains here to keep it private, and in here you can see some celluloid cases for pills, and hey by the way they also used celluloid in making billiard balls, and the thing is that if you hit one of the celluloid balls too hard it would EXPLODE--
ME [attempting not to vomit or faint]: Um, I'm really enjoying this and I'm really sorry to cut you off, but I REALLY have to go outside and get some air--
CTG: Oh! Okay, I don't blame you, there's some air-conditioned buildings out here if you just walk to the left there and you'll find a General Store where it'll probably be better than out here in the Sullivan House--
ME: [makes it around the corner of the porch to the shade, lies down like a stricken heifer]
To make all of this worse, somehow the best meal I had for the *entire vacation* was an Irish Breakfast dealie at a pub in the Dallas-Fort Worth airport.
I'm glad to be back, but I still feel kind of exhausted and stressed-out, so if I don't answer comments and whatnot please bear with me for a bit, dear friends!
ETA: But do feel free to vent about your own families in the comments if you like, misery being a companionable pastime and all. It makes me feel better. *g*
comments over yonder on http://bossymarmalade.dreamwidth.org/505819.html, y'all.
"...Maternal Family, who all put on airs and talk about how wonderful they are and carry grudges until death. They're like Lucille Bluth and Emily Gilmore but without the fun and compassion.
... Okay, not *all* of them are like this, but there's a distinct meanness to them that I'm not looking forward to."
You know when you're seeing unpleasant people, so you prepare yourself and come up with little scathing retorts and whatnot, and feel pretty confident about not getting flustered? Well, my maternal family finds BRAND NEW UNEXPECTED WAYS to be nasty to you, fucking up all your wretched hopeful defences. They also have fantastic excuses for when they've been cruel to you:
MY MOM: "It's just a JOKE! Why do you have to take things so SERIOUSLY!!"
MY AUNT: "Just remember y'all, if I say things that sound pissed off or mean, it COMES FROM A PLACE OF LOVE."
YOU PEOPLE DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW JOKES AND/OR LOVE WORK I'M GUESSING
Also I got heatstroke while we were at the Dallas Heritage Village, which was dreadful and humiliating and went like this:
COSTUMED TOUR GUIDE WEARING AN ORANGE SHIRT AND SUSPENDERS BUT ALSO A HIPSTER QUIFF AND GLASSES: -- and here you can see the marks of the Sullivans' carpet, because this is the part of their Victorian house (oh sorry the aircon's not working today) that they kept curtained off with these huge heavy red curtains here to keep it private, and in here you can see some celluloid cases for pills, and hey by the way they also used celluloid in making billiard balls, and the thing is that if you hit one of the celluloid balls too hard it would EXPLODE--
ME [attempting not to vomit or faint]: Um, I'm really enjoying this and I'm really sorry to cut you off, but I REALLY have to go outside and get some air--
CTG: Oh! Okay, I don't blame you, there's some air-conditioned buildings out here if you just walk to the left there and you'll find a General Store where it'll probably be better than out here in the Sullivan House--
ME: [makes it around the corner of the porch to the shade, lies down like a stricken heifer]
To make all of this worse, somehow the best meal I had for the *entire vacation* was an Irish Breakfast dealie at a pub in the Dallas-Fort Worth airport.
I'm glad to be back, but I still feel kind of exhausted and stressed-out, so if I don't answer comments and whatnot please bear with me for a bit, dear friends!
ETA: But do feel free to vent about your own families in the comments if you like, misery being a companionable pastime and all. It makes me feel better. *g*
comments over yonder on http://bossymarmalade.dreamwidth.org/505819.html, y'all.