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My Profile
She blinded him with whiteness - 2008-07-25
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10:43 a.m. - 2008-03-20
EEEEEEEEEKKK! We will be TEN for dinner on Sunday! I am not worried about feeding so many, I'd happily cook for an army. I'm not stressed over the cleanliness of my house, it's practically company-clean right now and pretty much stays that way all the time. That our 'guests' are really a pack of in-laws isn't bothersome either (see previous, previous entry), I am well-able for Mick's family. Thanks to my insane food hoarding and freezer loading I am not concerned about our gruesome budget getting in the way of putting out a lavish tasty spread either. See, what's really got my panties in a twist is only having nine forks. GAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! I don't have back up silverware because The Worst Mother Ever heartlessly and cruelly gave her poor burdened son her alternate set of silverware when he was setting up his own establishment. Yeah, awful, awful Mom the Ogre gave Alex the nifty Ikea service for 16. Why? Because I'm nasty like that. I know you're chagrinned to hear of more of my terrible treatment of my ever-suffering child and how his evil mother believed his having enough tableware to cover a week's worth of meals before the necessity of washing dishes came into play was thought to be a good thing. (Oh the shame of it all.) So once again my heartlessness comes back to bite me and here I am looking at having more company than I do forks. I'm short a few chairs too. Again, my cruelty in insisting my son take all the old living room furniture from the front porch and every stick from master bedroom and even the elderly kitchen table and chairs from the cellar has been put-paid. How the gods must be crying with mirth over my vindictive behavior toward my son and his first apartment! My sweet lord, how could I have been so mean? Now I'm in for it! Ha ha ha on me. That'll learn me for abusing my child. Go ahead, lady, and try to have too much company over in your empty little house when 300 miles away your wonderful son suffers on and on with a fully furnished apartment and a plethora of forks! Bitter? Moi??? Nahhh. At least I have the comfort of knowing that after knocking myself out for the next ten years Wolf will turn around and spit in my face too. Like father, like sons, you know? When I heard that SIL and her brood had accepted my invite I danced around the kitchen doing jazz hands, throwing in a couple buck and wings for good measure. I am truly stoked that Mick's somewhat fractured family is coming together again in part because I am a bully who will not be denied having her Walton fantasies fulfilled. This punk haired princess is the secret lovechild of Martha Stewart and Norman Rockwell and come Sunday I will feed four generations of O'Gaelics an amazing meal at my too-small table with my too few forks and everybody will have a wonderful time. Of course there's the tacky but obvious solution to my fork problem… Mr. McGuire: "I want to say one word to you. Just one word."
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