Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Swimmin' With Count Dooku

I'm gonna tell y'all something, and it's going to surprise you.

There's shit I DON'T tell you.

Some of it's good. In fact, some of it's totally amazing and I wish I could tell you. Conversely, some of it totally fucking sucks and I wish I could tell you that too. I have so much to let out, and I can't. I just can't. Sorry. Nuthin' personal.

My sack'a rocks is realllllly heavy right now.

That said, I deperately need to vent. There's some shit I CAN tell you, and will.

Remember how great our vacation was? Me kissing the concrete at the Riverwalk? Fondling unpackaged undies at the General Store? Luckenbach? Pie climbing halfway to heaven? Apes splashing in the icy-cold waves while I get Pink Sock sunburn? Meeting JD Byars on the beach? Catching crabs from a bikini, all that?

R's parents don't know anything about any of it.
Not a syllable. They haven't asked. Here's why.

We got home at 10:30 pm Easter Sunday. R figured they'd rather he didn't call that late, so he called his parents at 8:30 the next morning to tell him all about our trip. But it wasn't good enough.

They were pissed we didn't call on Easter.

His dad screamed at him. SCREAMED. Accused him of deliberately trying to hurt them. Deliberately.

Now, y'all know good and goddamn well that if I were going to do something deliberately to hurt FIL, you'd have fuckin heard about it on the news. TRUST ME.

We knew we wouldn't be there on Easter, so we made a special trip out there the Friday before. Not good enough.

We were in three different airports over the course of nine hours on Easter. We were travelling. With children. We were exhausted. We were a little preoccupied.

But we're selfish. And inconsiderate. Thoughtless. Heartless.

Yup, that's us.

FIL fucking SCREAMED at my husband. His son. SCREAMED. For a good 20 minutes. At least. Then I all but calmly walked out of the room (screaming YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!! inside my head) and called my mom sobbing at the injustice of it all.

I couldn't stand listening to R apologizing to him. Again and again. In different words. Yes, Dad, you're right, I'm a horrible, ungrateful son. I'm sorry... You're right, Dad. Yes, Dad. I'm sorry, I apologize....

OVER AND OVER.

R was so upset, I ached for him. I don't know how I didn't rip the phone out of R's hand and tell FIL to FRO.

FUCK.
RIGHT.
OFF.

If I didn't know with 100% certainty that whatever I said to FIL, he would take out on R in one way or another, like "Can't you control your wife??? I knew you should never have married her..", so help me, I'd tell him right to his fucking face exactly what an arrogant, self-righteous dick he is. What's he gonna do to me? Tell us we're not welcome in his house? Oooooooh... promise?

God, I hate that man. I hope I can outlive him just so I can show up drunk at his funeral in a red sequined dress.


So this morning, when Pie told me that Tito had thrown Pie's Count Dooku doll - oh, sorry, ACTION FIGURE - in the toilet, I thought to myself...

I know exactly how Count Dooku feels.


Hanging out, living the life of an Action Figure, minding his own bidniss, and suddenly, some hand out of the sky reaches down and plops him right in the fuckin shitter.

Dooku was a bad guy. I'm not. I don't deserve this.

13 comments:

Bezzie said...

He'll get what's coming to him. Just wait. Someone's going to pummel him someday with their sack of rocks.

Nell said...

That is ridiculous. Time for them to let go a little I think. Keep breathing. That's all you can really do. (That and plan sneaky revenge!)

Jo said...

Ouch. I think I would have just unplugged the phone (or confiscated the cell) and dropped that into the toilet. What an utter ass.

Beverly said...

I know all too well how you feel. When hubs' father (I refuse to call him my FIL) shows his ass, I just do what I can to remind hubs that at least he has my family to love and appreciate him, even if his own family is complete shit. Hang in there doll.

Poops said...

Now where did I put that extra set of testes? I know I had some around here somewhere...I'll send 'em along and perhaps they'll fit R. Clearly he has misplaced his own. Maybe in the move?

I can't figure out why R lets his father talk to him like that. Peace at any price? Scared of losing Daddy's...affection? Is that even the right word?

I'm flabbergasted. But really, it's R's sack o' rocks, not yours. If he lets his father treat him like dirt, then he's gonna get treated like dirt. Just don't let him do it to you. You didn't do anything wrong, except for not taking the phone, telling FIL to FUCK RIGHT OFF and hang up. And then screen your calls for a month, maybe more.

That's what I'd do.

Your FIL is a DICK. No, dicks are useful. As are douchebags, so I won't call him that either.

He's an appendix. Utterly useless and just hanging around doing nothing waiting to cause you pain.

I can't imagine what it would be like to have to see someone like that on a regular basis. I'd be taking Xanax like M&M's...

Amanda said...

I'm sorry, and I'm sorry that R has a parent like that. What the fuck?!?! R shouldn't let his dad treat him that way, but I know how hard it is to have to sit and listen to it and not really be able to do much.

I second Bezzie - he'll get his. What goes around....

And I hope you and R are there to watch and enjoy when it does. (Revenge? Bad? NAH.)

DancesInGarden said...

Ho-boy, does that sound familiar! It seems that no matter how much you give it is never enough. I feel your pain, and send you a big hug. Come sit in the closet with me. We can rock and eat cheezwhiz out of the jar. I'll even give you your own spoon ;).

C'tina said...

You and R and the kids are your family, inlaws come second, FIL obviously doesn't get that. R. needs to come up with a one liner...like FUCK. RIGHT. OFF., but with a little finess...like, "I'm sorry you feel that way." Or just repeat his stoopid shit back to him, "So you were upset we didn't call on Easter." So he feels like he's being heard...it's not enough that just he enjoys the sound of his own voice...

Dame Wendy said...

*HUGE HUGS*

If you're ever in my neck of the woods we have to grab a coffee and a bitch fest.

Eryn said...

More hugs to you! That's crap. How about an unlisted number with caller ID?

Dkswife said...

Well, my husband and I no longer have anything to do with his side of the family -- at all -- not a phone call, card, piss on you, nothing, and it is because of their self-righteous BS. Some people, even if they are family, are best not to be around at all.

Sorry for the crap.

((Hugs))

Kay

buttercup said...

I know it's hard to see it, but maybe this is a good thing. Maybe it means you won't have to see or hear from the in-laws for a while. You get a break. R need to get some cajones.

As the wise Bezzie said, he'll get his. One way or the other, and you WILL be around to see it and you'll barely be able to hold the smile and laughter back. It will be a glorious day.

And blogable.

Ed said...

I would like to see the video evidence of you drunk at FIL's funeral in a red sequinned dress.