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My Profile
She blinded him with whiteness - 2008-07-25
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12:58 a.m. - 2008-03-24
They came. They ate. They hunted eggs. They ate some more. They went home. All in all a very successful party. Passion fruit mojito martinis? Yuuuuuuuuummmmmm. Knowing what I do about SIL's boring stiff of a first husband I can see why she chose her current one. BIL is a charmer. Not in any greasy sort of way, just a nice guy who's well-spoken and interesting. He brought his son from his first marriage and for a dorky high school freshman the kid is very much like his father. Whereas Mick is not. Thank God. People, I've tried. I've given that old fart every chance, but Mick's father is simply impossible. Meaner than snake spit, nastier than cat dirt. The man delights in being a jerk. Never a kind word. Mutters a continuous stream of complaints and put-downs, he's like a weak king- all pissy and waiting to be catered to. For the most part I politely ignore his nonsense and do my best to keep Mick from boiling over as the old man sneers at MIL and gives Gram a hard time, but today took the cake. This afternoon after practically stalking out of the house in a huff because Mandy the cat dared to sit next to him on the sofa (astonishing Wolf who said, "But Mandy won't hurt you!" as though FIL might be afraid of the cat instead of his being all insulted over being subjected to cat nearness), well the old man finally went too, too far. There we all were cozied up around the coffee table munching down on the lovely shrimp SIL brought and having a good time and FIL clicked his fingers at me like I was a waitress and snarled, "Get Gram some shrimp." First of all, that old shit couldn't care less about Gram's comfort. Does nothing but rag on the woman (thank goodness she's mostly deaf) and bitch about her frailties to anyone who listens. Fumes at her constantly as though Gram's sole purpose in surviving to 94 was to piss him off, so little did FIL care if Gram starved or not. Nope, he was ticked because nobody was paying any attention to him and we were all laughing. Can't have that. Who are we to have a good time? And me, especially. Imagine my nerve in plopping my butt down on the big floor cushion and having a shrimp or two with my guests. Terrible happy LA who makes everyone smile and relax. Infuriating LA who makes his son beam with contentedness and gives MIL fits of giggles. I swear if Wolf hadn't been in the room I would have reached over and given that asshole a good one upside his bony old man's head. After that though the gloves were off. For the rest of the day I called him on his antics and treated him exactly like the spoiled baby he was. Mommed him and mocked him like he was a bratty ill-mannered 6 year old. Cheesed him off something fierce. He couldn't get me mad, all he did was end up looking foolish. To the point where even SIL (who's terrified of FIL's caustic remarks) was smirking at him and having a hearty laugh over her father's pissy-pants and my deft handling of his ranty behavior. That nasty old coot has had his way for far too long and I will not stand for it anymore. He can bitch and whine and huff all he wants to, but I refuse to allow him to disrespect me or my family and get away with souring everyone's good time any more. Fortunately Mick had been in the kitchen sautéing mushrooms (Whoo! Go, Mick!) when his father snapped his fingers at me or it would have gotten very ugly right quick. Even Mick's huge love for his mom and his desire to never upset her wouldn't have stopped him from the throwing the old man right out on his skeletal ass. I was smart enough to not say anything about it until after everyone had gone home. When I did Mick gave me a squeeze and apologized for his stupid father, but agreed that I'd done the right thing by not telling him sooner. We'd had a lovely time with the rest of the family and soooo didn't need to have spoiled it because of his stinker of an old man. We did too. It was a wonderful day. None too many leftovers either, our guests did us proud and ate until scarcely a crumb was left. Mick got to share in a cook's satisfaction in preparing a well-received meal and has decided cooking is his new 'thing'. I teased him a bit and said the only reason he wants to cook is because he's sick of doing clean-up duty. (In our house after the meal the cook rests while the eaters clear the dishes and tidy the kitchen.) Actually I'd get a kick out his serving me a whole meal. Be worth having to do the pots and pans afterward just to be able to please Mick with sincere compliments to the chef. Maybe the next party.
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