Family

You know how there are some people who call their in-laws, “Mom and Dad?” Yeah I don’t get that.

TDW has been signing birthday cards to me, “love, Mom” and introducing me to people as, “her daughter.” Um, ‘scuse me? NO. Not your kid. THANK. FUCKING. GOD.

Why does this piss me off? Well for one, she didn’t go through the pleasure of squirting me out her vag (oh god, the visual I just had!!), and she didn’t put up with all of my shenanigans and still love me unconditionally. What has she done? Treat me like a GOD.DAMN. five year old who needs to be told to remember to close the door when he goes outside and to wipe is ass after he takes a shit.

HOLY FUCK WOMAN! Let’s recap a few facts shall we?

1. I am not your child.
2. I am over 30 years old.
3. I did not ask for your opinion on ANYTHING
4. Did I mention, I AM NOT YOUR KID!

(deep breaths……fuck I can’t stand her.)

I want to punch her in the throat when she refers to Captain Boohoo and myself as sisters. Kill me. If anyone bitched and moaned as much as she did in MY family, you would have had your face slapped off. And rightfully so. Grow up. Guess who CB’s idol is? Just guess?

A GODDAMN ASS!! The mopiest fuck on the planet.

I can’t take it. Really I can’t.

Oh, Gaaawwwwd. Do I Have Too?!

Da Man (DM) and I have a kid, Da Little Man (DLM). DLM spends a great amount of time with my family, because I want them to be a huge influence on him during his formative years. This is a brilliant, witty, kind, and loving group of people. Call me biased but I couldn’t think of a better bunch of people to raise a child around.

DM wants DLM to spend as much time as possible with his mother, That Damn Woman (TDW), which is understandable. But not going to happen…at least if I am the one who is going to be responsible for taking him to see her. I can’t stand that fucking woman and the thought of any part of her behavior or personality leeching onto DLM makes me cringe!!!

What does she do that’s so irritating? Well for starters she is a HUGE paranoid hypochondriac. She is constantly going ON AND ON about how she disinfects every last inch of her house with alcohol wipes. She even wipes off HER OWN thermometer (THAT NO ONE ELSE, IN THE WHOLE WORLD, USES!!) with an alcohol wipe after she has taken her temperature, which I’m sure is 20 times a day. I wanted to ask her if she burned her toothbrush after she finished brushing her teeth, but couldn’t think of a way to say it without sounding like I thought she was completely up in the night.

Here are some other funs things that one (and it’s not just me, this goes for everyone) gets to deal with when going to her house:

• After you use a glass to get ice from the ice maker in the fridge, she wipes it down with an alcohol swab.
• If you get out a plate and then decide you don’t really need it, you can’t put it back in the cupboard. OH NO! Now it is fucking RIDDLED with germs and must be sterilized.
• Her list of a thousand items that you could possibly own that have been recalled.

Kill me.

When we take DLM over there, I purposely drop his binkie on the ground and don’t wipe it off before giving it back to him, because I know it just makes her head want to explode. Ha! Give me a fucking break. The world is a dirty place and he needs to built up a tolerance. It’s like iocaine powder. I am not going to have this kid afraid of life.

Not Making That Mistake, Again.

I have another blog.  No.  I’m not going to tell you its name.  That would totally defeat the purpose of starting this one.  My very own blog.  A blog where everyone DOESN’T know my name.  A blog full of anonymity.

Heaven.

I say this because I made the mistake of telling family and friends about my other one.  And then, through the years, realized I had no place to call my own.  No place where I could vent about the hypochondriac bullshit of my mother-in-law, my whiny bitch ass sisters-in-law, or anything else I wanted to get off my chest.

Well things are changing, so watch out.  It is so on.