I have a huge extended family. I wouldn't recognize most of them even if they put us all on an island and handed out name tags.
So why does my Mother think I give a shit about which one had a root canal, which one has hearing lose or which one had a botched up colonoscopy?
I don't know these people. I don't have a connection with these people and just because they are fortunate enough to share some of my DNA, doesn't mean I have to care about these people.
After all, they must be freaks. They share some of my DNA.
Mom is on all the older relatives emailing list so she feels like it is her matriarchal duty to forward all of them so the entire tribe can share in the latest travesty that has ruined their lives.
My clan consists of mostly second generation Italians who think gravy is red, fish should be prepared with eyes intact and spatting out olive pits onto a plate across the table while showering the person next to you with saliva is the norm.
To them, good news is no news.
The only thing worth sharing is death, terminal illnesses and bank repossessions. Not once have I been forwarded a newsy letter of how little Vito won the science fair for his moldy Italian bread experiment or that Uncle Tony and Aunt Camille bought that new summer house on the north shore they've had their eyes on. Nope. That isn't news.
I don't even hear about stuff that may even interest me a little. Ya know...like childhood dirt such as what little shits my parent were. Even stories of what it was like back in the 30s and 40s would get my interest. Oh no. That shit is over and will be buried with them.
Buried pretty soon from the sound of these emails.
I decided to try to alter the situation one day by sending out a happy email depicting all the wonderful things that are going on in my life and the lives of my children.
Of course I had to lie but that isn't the point.
The point is that each and every story was one upped with one of theirs. And not in a good way. "I am so glad Anna got all As. Little Sophie has quite a little learning disability that we are hoping isn't cause by a brain tumor."
"Now that Jimmy is doing well on his own, perhaps you can make room for your Cousin Joey and his kids. They got thrown out of his apartment because he lost his job and are currently living on the street collecting empty cans and eating pizza crusts from trash cans.,"
I get these emails and wonder if they are trying to find someone to pass this tradition onto when they are all gone.
Okay, so there was once an attraction to SCM right? Had to be. I mean I just didn’t meet a guy I despised and said, “Great, let me marry this lazy smelly person and bear his child because my life isn’t quite shitty enough!”
The sad truth is, I have always had a fondness for artistic talent in any way. Maybe it is because when I was little I never got that big crayon box with the sharpener on the back so my talent did not get a fair chance to develop.
I am instantly drawn to anyone that can make art; whether it be music, photography, painting or basket weaving; I am drawn to that person like a brush to a canvas.
However, after a dozen or so years, the groupie thing has gotten old.
Butchering old rock classics in a manner beloved by middle-aged housewives and the mentally unwell isn't going to propel these wannabees to stardom. Hell, they often don't even make enough to cover their bar tab.
I try to be encouraging...I really do. Mainly because when he is out playing or practicing he is OUT and that is the way I like him. The problem arises when he returns home stinking of pot, cigarettes and beer farts and wants to tell me about his evening.
Listen Pookie. I don't care about whose wife was hanging all over the opening act drummer. I really couldn't possibly care less if the sound guy couldn't get his shit together or you broke a string during the Billy Idol montage. And if you think telling me about those twenty year old skanks that were buying you drinks all night makes me jealous...you're mistaken. The only think I get a twinge of feeling about it the fact that they didn't decide to keep you.
Live your dream until the day you die. Everyone needs something to look forward to. Just keep in mind that I look forward to you being out playing and I damn sure don't want a play by play when you return.
Is it normal to have a strong desire to rip someones throat out due to the manner in which they sneeze?
I have never in my life heard someone who has a sneeze as disgusting as SCM. He sucks in a lung full of air and then proceeds to sneeze so hard that you can hear the gurgle of the spit and snot flying out. Fortunately he usually covers his mouth. However, unless I witness the event and remind him, he doesn't wash his hands after the eruption. He feels a quick rub on the ole trousers should suffice.
I have become addicted to a chick flick cable station series called Snapped. The premise is women who have killed. Killed, husbands, boyfriends and any other prick that happened to make the mistake of fucking with them.
My daughter is on a mission to see snow. As a Florida native she has never experienced the bitter cold, the scrapping of ice off of a windshield and the obstacle course between parked cars and pedestrians when you finally lurch into drive.
She has never had to shovel herself out of a door or been unable to shower because the pipes had frozen. She has never been so cold that the snot on her face has frozen in a white line between mouth and nose. She has never had to avoid stepping in gray slush as the snow begins to melt.
The kid also has never experienced sitting by the radio or TV listening intently for school closings. She has never looked up at night towards the street light and seen the enchanting way the snow looks as it comes down. She has never taken that one big deep breath of icy air or exhaled the steam caused by it. She has never made a snow angel or a snowman. She has never been beaned by a snowball and retaliated with one of her own. She has never come in, stomped her boots making a puddle by the door and get the scent of the hot chocolate being made just for her.
I really need to make plans to take her up north soon.
My sister and her partner are the proud parents of Miss Katie born this morning. She is a doll with reddish hair and perfect in every way.
Some of you may remember I blogged about how amazed I was that you can actually choose and buy sperm on line. Well, apparently it works! She is a little miracle and is blessed with two of the best women I have ever known as Mommys.
I tore myself away in hopes that the other visitors would get the hint and let them sleep. It was a hard delivery that ended in a C-section but this child is so loved and has been anticipated for so long, the room looked like a clown car with all the visitors jammed in.
The Rules 1. Link to the person who tagged you. See below and make sure you go abuse them on my behalf for fucking with me. 2. Post the rules on your blog. Here ya go. This be them. 3. Write six random things about yourself. Six. Random. Things? I don't get it so I guess I need to go copy off of someone elses paper. 4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them. Don't worry, I don't believe misery loves company. If you want to do it, knock yourself out. I'll even check it out if you say pretty please. 5. Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog. 6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up. I would but I am not talking to either one of them ever again.
So, I am supposed to come up with six random fucked up things I do? I guess I am going to have dispel the thought that I am perfect in every way... Damn.
1.I hate telephones. I hate talking on them and I cringe when I hear one ring. I find them very intrusive. I rarely will answer a phone. Even at my desk, most go to voicemail unless I am expecting a call. If I have something to say that can't be said in person, I will send an email or a text message. If a phone call must take place, I will be the one to initiate it and I have to psyche myself up to do it.
2. I don't balance my check book and trust the bank to be right. I never know how much I have in my checking account and have to rely on overdraft protection at least once per month. I'd rather pay the $5.00 transfer fee than balance my account or log on to see if I have any money to write the check I plan on using.
3.I work 10-12 hours per day during the week, return home and do 2 or 3 hours more of housework. I do this so I have Saturdays completely free to blob or shop or do whatever I want. I have spent many a Saturday while the kids run in and out zoning out to HBO and napping. I love Saturdays.
4. I am always reading two or three novels at once. I mention this because I have heard that it is odd. I have one on tape to hear while I commute, one in the bedroom to read before sleep and one in the bathroom because I enjoy multitasking. They are always different genres so I never get them confused. Along those same lines, I will reread a book I like over and over until I almost have it memorized.
5. I have started writing dozens of novels and have completed the first draft of four. When I put them down a few days and come back to them, I despise every word and start over. I would never allow anyone to read one until I know it is perfect. Unfortunately, I don't think that will ever happen. I can't reread my old blog entries because I tend to want to tweak them and/or make corrections.
6.I only like being touched and receiving affection from people I truly love. When casual friends, acquaintances and work associates hug me, it freaks me out and I feel like screaming for them to get out of my personal space.
Okay. That is enough insight into the incredibly delusional mind of Christine for one day. I hope Beth and Jenny are happy now.
When it comes to husbands, I certainly know how to pick um.
My first husband acted about as retarded as a person could possibly act while still being permitted to play with matches. If there was an official king of the retards, he would be it…but only because he can tie his own shoes.
Calling him a retard is even insulting to retards.
Note: I am obviously not in PC mode today kids.
That being said, guess who pissed me off this past week?
A little background, this is my son, Jimmy's, father. He and I divorced 18 years ago due to the resentment I harbored over his unwillingness to give up dating other women after the wedding.
I know….I know…I am an inflexible bitch.
Number One Son called me earlier this week shortly after he had seen his father for the first time since Christmas.
My baby had his widdle feelings hurt.
I don’t care if Jim is in his fifties, until my body lays rotting in an overly expensive, worm infested coffin, when he is upset, I will automatically jump into protection mode with my claws out.
Who would DARE fuck with my kid??!! GGGRRRRRR
My ex did not have a Christmas present for his own son. Nothing. Not even some lousy soap on a rope or a movie from the shitty dvd bargain bin at Walmart.
Of course I had no right to get involved and just tried to comfort my son as best as I could while we held hands and he shared his feelings of pain and frustration.
Yeah right. And after that the sun started circling the earth and I did the Hokey Pokey on top of Mount Fuji.
Nope. This situation required a slap down and I was just the bitch to do it.
“Did you honestly not have a Christmas present for Jim when he stopped by to bring you and your crypt keeper looking wife the gifts he purchased for you?”
“Yeah. But I have a good reason….”
Couldn't wait for this.
“When my father was here for vacation at Thanksgiving, Jim only visited ONCE the entire week."
Oh. My. God. How dare that little shit? Now where did I put those bamboo shoots I keep to stick under his finger nails?
“So the man that has never once called his grandson in his 20 years of life; has never spent one minute alone with him, taken him to dinner, or thrown a baseball? That man is upset that the kid didn’t hang out with him enough last month. For his severe imprudence, you, in your infinite wisdom decided it would be appropriate to fix Jim's ass so to speak??”
I was on a role now.
"What I am hearing is you, the sperm donor of my son, that had visitation four days per month and one month out of the summer for the past 18 years and has only seen the kid 25 or so times since he was ten, is insulted about you and your daddy being blown off?”
Jimmy came home last night and told me his Dad gave him a check for $250 as a Christmas gift.
Maybe he does deserve the title of king of the retards afterall. Apparently he can be taught.
What could possibly be worse than a rushed wedding at a crappy park on Christmas Eve attended by only family forced to be there and a groom that seemed forced to be there too?
A homeless bum sleeping on a bench in the background of the nuptials.
No one was going to take a picture of this dude until I subtly suggested it to my nephew.
Get your ass over there and snap a picture of that guy!
But I digress.
A week before Christmas, I was asked....forced....to agree to perform a marriage ceremony on a relative by marriage. To give you an idea of my attachment and admiration of these people, my sister and I have nicknamed the bride and her brother Wednesday and Pugsly.
Initially the ceremony was to take place on Christmas Day but they managed to get some kind of deferment of the rules due to a military hardship to get around the waiting period. That fact initially thrilled me as I assumed they would then choose to marry at the courthouse.
Nope, they now had their hearts set on the trailer trash wedding in the small park next to the Knights of Columbus Hall.
The plan was that my family all go together in one car, get this over with and then attend Christmas Eve Mass which was scheduled for 6pm. (This also got us out of having to attend the reception "dinner" at some BBQ place immediately following.) Since the ceremony was planned for 4pm, that should have left plenty of time. None the less, my mother reminded me that the bride's mother arrived an hour and a half after the planned time for her own wedding and mommy dearest refused to miss mass waiting around for this half assed thing to happen.
Mom's got some very interesting priorities, needless to say.
When we arrived, the groom was there with the hood up on his car working on it on the street.
The bride and part of her family arrived soon after.
We got out of the car, happy that this was going to be happening in a timely manner, but we were immediately informed that the bride's father was "lost" and we will need to wait.
So we waited....and waited....15 minutes, 20.....30.....
Phone calls were made and the bride's father appeared to be searching frantically throughout the town for an opened store to purchase a throw away camera to capture the beauty of the pending event.
In the meantime, bride has remained in her family's SUV with the AC blasting (It was just about 80 degrees that day..probably warmer in the sun).
By this time, bride is pissed but refused to start, not because her father isn't there but because her brother, Pugsly, is with him and she didn't want him to miss this ever so special event.
FINALLY, they pulled up, I got my book out, we gathered under the gazebo making our way around the homeless guy as to not wake him, and the bride exited the SUV parked on the street and walked the long path to the gazebo where her groom awaited. No music, no one walking her down...just 300 feet from street to gazebo in what looked like her old prom dress. She had refused to allow her father to escort her due her annoyance over the camera incident making him tardy.
The ceremony went off without a hitch, they are married legally but more importantly, we weren't late for mass.
Let's start the new year with a SCM story, shall we?
Well first I need to rag on my son.
GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE. THE HOLIDAYS ARE OVER SO GO HOME! You know that place that I am constantly helping you out with the rent? Go there. I am tired of having all my bath towels on the "guest room" floor.
Newsflash: You don't need two fresh towels each time you shower...which is twice a day.
Which brings me back to SCM.
Initially when the Stinkman found my old blog, he seemed insulted at the nickname enough to actually do something about it.
But, I guess remembering that cologne and breath mints aren't a replacement for soap and toothpaste is extremely difficult.
In the weeks that he isn't called to work for a few days at a time, he feels no need to rinse away the lovely odor of sweat and stale cigarettes. I solve this problem by cringing away from his touch and informing him that he is grossing me out. Now if someone mentioned to me that I smell like swiss cheese has been rotting in my ass crack for a month, I would be slightly humiliated and rush to rectify the rectum situation.
I guess that is just me.
He chooses to have a tandrum and go to his room and pout. A room that not only lacks running water but smells just as bad as he does.
Often that works for me. Okay, that ALWAYS works for me. If he is gone, I can take deep breaths and I enjoy those simple pleasures of life.
However, SCM hasn't worked in a couple of days and choose to cook last night.
That he would have his hands in and around as he rolled them.
Placing them in sauce and contaminating that as well.
Deep inside me is a human being and I understand the need to be appreciated for making a nice dinner for another person. I also understand the desire for the person that I cooked for to actually consume said food.
Yeah...wasn't gonna happen.
I keep picturing him wiping the sweat away from his face with his hands followed by a good scratch to the old balls before he picked up the chopped meat.
Sorry but I refuse to blog about the wedding until my mother picks up the pictures of the homeless guy sleeping on the bench next to the gazebo. Why do I have the only relative that refuses to use a digital camera. Not like my sis and I haven't freakin' purchased her one. gggrrrrrr.
Getting on with it:
Statistically, the average person has read six of the top hundred books of all time. I did not come up with this list and I think there are many that are missing. However, since I've been spending this holiday reading, I thought it might make a good meme to get me back into the real world tomorrow.
I am a self defined bibliophile so I was surprised that I had only read half. However, none of the books that were left were on my list of things to read before I croak so none are Italicise . Additionally, everyone I picked up I finished and I like all I read. But I am weird that way.
Now you kids all know that fifty and above is a ridiculous number and can probably only be achieved by geeks and people with no life. I refuse to share which category I happen to fall in.
Let me know if you played. But more, which ones I did not read that I really should.
1) Look at the list and bold those you have read. 2) Italicise those you intend to read. 3) Put *** next to those you LOVED. 4) Underline those you started and didn't finish. 5) Highlight in blue the ones you didn't like
1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen*** 2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien 3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte*** 4. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling 5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee*** 6. The Bible - God THE God wrote the bible? Naaaa. 7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte*** 8. Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell*** 9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman 10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens 11. Little Women - Louisa M Alcott*** 12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy 13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller 14. Complete Works of Shakespeare ** 15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier 16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien 17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks 18. Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger*** 19. The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger 20. Middlemarch - George Eliot 21. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell*** 22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald 23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens 24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy 25. The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams 26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh 27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky 28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbec*** 29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll 30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame 31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy 32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens 33. Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis 34. Emma - Jane Austen *** 35. Persuasion - Jane Austen 36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis 37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini 38. Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres 39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden*** 40. Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne 41. Animal Farm - George Orwell 42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown ( 43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez 44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving 45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins 46. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery 47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy 48. The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood 49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding 50. Atonement - Ian McEwan 51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel*** 52. Dune - Frank Herbert 53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons 54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen 55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth 56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon 57. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens ** 58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley 59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon 60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez 61. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck 62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov 63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt 64. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold 65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas 66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac 67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy 68. Bridget Jones' Diary - Helen Fielding 69. Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie 70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville 71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens *** 72. Dracula - Bram Stoker 73. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett 74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson 75. Ulysses - James Joyce 76. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath 77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome 78. Germinal - Emile Zola I can't believe this is on here and J'Accuse isn't! J'Accuse is excellent. 79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray 80. Possession - AS Byatt 81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens 82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell 83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker*** 84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro 85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert 86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry 87. Charlotte's Web - EB White 88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom*** 89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle 90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton 91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad 92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery 93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks 94. Watership Down - Richard Adams 95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole 96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute 97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas 98. Hamlet - William Shakespeare 99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl 100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo***