Whose Life Sucks More Contest

Now I know there are people who’s life sucks considerably more than mine. There are people that have it WAY worse than I do, but I’m going to be self centered and complain about MY problems and if anyone happens across this and wants to join in, you’re more than welcome.

My family is causing me so much stress that my hair is doing this sexy falling out thing. The other night when I was showering (oh shut up, perv) the hair actually clogged the drain so no water could go down! I’m hoping glue-on bows and balding chicks will be the new sexy soon so I won’t have to hide in a cave.

My brother David has decided to hand over his duties as my pain in the butt to my my brother Van. Van in turn has made my punishment for being his sister a constant stream of verbal diarrhea with a splash of putting me down in between. He’s been staying here now for a week and the pain, I assure you, has been acute. I have never EVER put him down because I know if I got started all that would be left is a pile of weeping, sniveling gunk I’d have to scrape off the bottom of my shoe. Unfortunately I suffer from something called slowness respondicus, a disease that inhibits the brain from thinking up anything witty to say until several minutes after the fact. It’s coupled with something that seems to have disappeared completely from Van’s brain, if it was ever there at all, called a conscience. Pesky thing, a conscience, it stops you from saying all the zingers that do break through because hurting your brother’s feelings would be lowering yourself to his level, and/or making for an uncomfortable situation once said. I’ll let him be the mean one, that way I won’t feel the guilt of it later.

My sister Kim isn’t speaking with my mom right now. Why? Because my mom did a very nasty thing. Yes, that’s right, she paid her rent! *gasp* How dare she! So, because my mom sent the rent directly to the landlady, instead of my sister, she obviously doesn’t trust my sister and so doesn’t deserve any thanks for saving her… once again. Of course my brother David is MORE than happy to tell my mom how my sister thinks she’s crap at any given opportunity to make himself look like a loving child. No matter that my mom’s heart breaks every time he tells her how her first daughter doesn’t want to speak with her. Idiots, I tell you!

Derek, the first grandchild and favorite of my mom’s, has decided he’s going to move here this winter with his still in high school girlfriend. Why? Because David has conned him into thinking this is a good thing. Now, my sister Kim has already raised him to be a lying, devious, spawn of satan, but moving to be with my brother David is like jumping out of the fire and into the frying pan. This can not bode well for me, as I’m sure I’ll be feeding and cleaning up after 2 teenagers and my 40-something year old teenage brother this winter. Golly-gee, I can’t wait.

Now, you might wonder… what’s so bad about all of that? So what if your brother rags on you and won’t let up? So what if your sister isn’t speaking to your mom? So what?

Well, if I wasn’t the caring person that I am, I would agree. So what? But I do care, and every time my mom knocks on my door in the middle of the night crying about something one of my retarded siblings has said, it breaks my heart. I’m running myself ragged trying to help my parents out every day, and at the end of the day I’m growing more and more bitter. I feel less and less good about myself because when someone tells you something over and over again, you start believing it.

So I welcome anyone else to talk about their craptastic lives, come on, cheer me up.

Driving Like A Jerk – Session Two

It’s been far too long since I’ve written a D.L. a J. post, so I say it’s about time that I did. If you happen across this and want to read the first one click here.

As I sit here I can remember getting an email about being a jerk and laughing so hard I had to share it with my friend, Meghan. Meghan and I cracked up so much we decided to try one out. I can’t remember it exactly (it’s been a few years) but in the email it mentioned something about facing the back corner of an elevator and talking. Being the annoying silly girls that we were (and I still am, can’t say Meghan is I’ll let her say) I faced one corner, and Meghan the other, and we laughed as we talked to one another. There was a woman in there… possibly someone with her, but I remember the woman the most, who yelled at us as she got out. Of course, we thought it was funny… *shrug* Guess she thought we were jerks.

You see? I’ve always been a jerk.

So here are a few that others have contibuted, so here we go (sorry if I haven’t gotten to anyone that sent me some, but this won’t be the last!):

  • When someone behind you flashes their lights signalling for you to get over, to really tick them off, tap your break light for every flash given by their head lights. (Thanks, Keithy!)

    (the next five are from Princess Trix)

  • When the person behind you is tailing you make sure to slow down, keep driving slow until they get it through their thick skull to back off. When they back off, speed up to the speed limit. If they tail you again repeat as many times as needed.
  • Leave your turn signal on and never turn.
  • Leave your hazard lights on when there is no hazard.
  • When someone cuts in front of you on the highway and goes slow, take your time to get back at them or they will catch on. Simply pass at your next convenience and get in front of them and drive 5mph slower than they did to you.
  • If someone should feel the need to flick you off or gesture rudely wave and smile. If they continue, point at them and talk to your passenger while laughing.
  • I hope this one is enjoyed as much as the last one was, and remember, if you have one of your own you’d like to send, please email it to me, jerk.

    What the piss?

    I was angrily surfing blog explosion the other night when I had to exit it before I exploded myself. What is it with political blogs? Why exactly would I want to read some idiots blog about world events when I could just as easily turn on the news and hear it there? How much brain power does it actually take to watch the news and then regurgitate it into a blog? Not too much!

    Put some original thought into things! I know that my blog is crap, but atleast it’s original. I put my own thoughts, albeit lame, they’re mine and if no one at all reads them, that’s fine with me.

    Speaking of my craptastic life, tomorrow night is the beginning of a loooooong month until my brother Van is married to the sasquach *B-renda. He called this morning at 8am to say that he’ll be sleeping here for a month per the reverand’s advice. Hrm, I wonder why the reverand hates me so much? This is what I have to look forward to:

    Anyway, he says that he’ll be going to his and B-renda’s apartment, just like always, after work to shower and then do whatever. He’s only sleeping here. All I know is that I wanna be there for when my mom tells David he can’t come home for a month cause this should be gooooood.

    * If you wonder why I call the sasquach B-renda it’s because the B stands for biatch.

    Le Sigh

    My 3-day weekend from you know where is finally over, but the crappiness continues. I’m trying to take some time for myself, but when your “job” is to help your parents out that doesn’t leave you with a whole lot that me time stuff.

    Thankfully Rob is now 3 hours away (not far enough if you ask me) and I don’t have to deal with his perverted, crazy butt anymore. He kept talking about how sometimes at night he hears women orgasming and it keeps him up. Yeah, then turn the porn off, retard. When he talks about that kinda crap no one knows what to say, and when you’re driving there’s not a whole lot of places to escape. So for about 45 minutes the care was pin-drop quiet. Finally I just turned the music on and turned it up enough that he got a clue… or maybe just ran out of material. In any case, it stopped so good enough. We dropped him off faster than I could say “good riddance” and got out of there.

    We went out to dinner afterwards, and Bob continued to scowl at me (as usual) and I said, “You can stop scowling now, Pokey, no one here cares if you’re mad at me.” To which he scowled more fiercely and I joked, “Want to take this out side?” He said, “And what are you proposing? A romantic tryst.” I stared at him blankly. “Yes, … that’s right… I often propose that I take my step-father out for a romantic tryst. What’s wrong with you? That’s disgusting.” He tried to explain as he was getting up to exercise his legs but I waved him off. “You’re making me more nauseous, just go exercise or whatever.” The more Bob talks the more I understand why my siblings all have completely screwed up choices in who they’ve chosen as their mates. My mom isn’t a good example! Let me explain:

    David: Dating a woman my mother’s age, and so 20 years older than he is. Disgusting.

    Van: Well, he’s marrying a sasquach. Sick.

    Keith: His wife is nice, but she’s completely selfish and does nothing… ever. Weighs 300+ lbs and sent us a picture of her in a bikini! Vomitous.

    Scott: Well, I’m still not sure about him. I don’t know if he ever dated.

    Kim: Married twice, once to some closet S&M guy, the next to an abusive alcoholic.

    I do have more siblings, but they didn’t have my mom as their mother so they don’t suffer with these problems. I’ve concluded that since all of the above are clearly messed up, that since I had a different father, his genes (since I’m the only child from their marriage) are helping me out. Granted my marriage was to a cheater, so something must have rubbed off. Atleast I can revel in the fact that I was the responsible one, and moved when my parents needed me even when I could have stayed where I was.

    Also, for some deranged reason, all of my siblings compete for who is loved the most in the family… who is the “favorite”. Even the in-laws! Brenda is sure she will be, something Van is carrying over from his last marriage, and really Michelle, my brother Keith’s wife, hasn’t said anything too much but she thinks it too. How much more deranged can you get? She’s our mother, she loves us all.

    So when you think your life is crappy and your family is nuts, just read this and know … it could be a heck of a lot worse… you could be me, and your family could be mine.

    Meet the Fockers
    top: David, My Dad, My Mom & Me
    bottom: Van, Keith, Kim, & Scott

    Auntie Jenny

    I woke up today, glanced at my clock, and turned instantly grumpy. It was 9am and I knew Rob wanted to be picked up at that time. I slinked downstairs and ran into my brother David. “Where’s Mom?” He says, “Oh, she just left to pick up Rob from his hotel.” Which just makes me even more grumpy because there’s no chance I’m showering while he’s in the house. I sigh and start to make tea when I hear my mom’s voice, “Hello?” as she comes in. Dangit! I’m still in my pajamas and now Rob is in the kitchen gauking at me. I keep my back to him and sigh. I slink out as quickly as possible and run up the stairs, feeling pretty secure in my own room.

    I’m reading blogs, with one leg proped up on my desk, and suddenly I can feels eyes on me again. I shiver and turn to see Rob standing there at the top of the stairs watching me. Just standing there watching! I swear the word “heebie-geebie” can’t even come near the feeling I got just then. I got up and walked to the door, scowled, and shut it. Perv. I quickly got dressed, it was nearing the time I had to go with my brother Van to supervise him with his kids for his visitation with them. And happily, when I open my door no one is even in the house anymore.

    A few minutes alone and then out with Van to see my nephews Chris and Brandon, whom I haven’t seen for about…geez…maybe 4-5 years? I’m not sure but a while. Van himself hasn’t been able to see them for atleast 2 years. So we were both pretty anxious. They arrived with his ex and ran to my brother to hug him with my hugs coming next. Chris is nearly as tall as Van is, and likely just as wide. The boy is large! Brandon’s little cherib face isn’t all little and baby-like anymore, but he’s still a real cutie with big dimples. We had a good time, and I tried to give Van his space to be with the boys alone, but one or the other kept asking me about what I’d been up to so I really couldn’t. All in all, it was a really good time. Both of them are real jokesters like their dad.

    Chris laughing at Brandon’s Britney Spears impression.

    I came home to my parents and Rob waiting for me. As I showed my mom the pictures I took Rob loomed behind me. So when I was finished I walked out of the kitchen, with him hot on my heels. As I walked up the stairs he followed me to the first step and watched me go up them. Dude… keep your crazy son away from me, Bob, geez! Is all I kept thinking. Though Bob doesn’t see anything wrong with him. Not in the way he chews his food like a dog would chew something, or how he just blankly stares at everyone, or how he goes into this pacing/itching fit whenever he’s uncomfortable with the amount of people around. Yeah, he’s a loon. When we dropped him off at his hotel for the night I came home and antibacterialized the furniture he sat in. Mudder-feekin’ kooties aren’t getting on me!

    Tomorrow is another 6 hour car ride, but atleast one of my problems will be faaaar away. Thank goodness. My reward is a pair of shoes from the outlet mall we pass coming home.


    The Misery Continues…

    Waking up to take my parents on a 6 hour car ride was not an easy thing. My alarm kept going off, and I kept pressing snooze until the last possible moment. I grumpily rolled out of bed, showered and got dressed. My parents were in a good mood, my mom’s fake because she detests Bob’s son Rob, and Bob just being the total idiot he is every day. I drove for a few hours pretty tight-lipped and at the rest stop my mom took over against my will. I sat in the passenger seat and tried to loosen up and talk more, but Bob doesn’t know when to stop and his placing his foot on my shoulder really ticked me off. He mocked me as I told him it wasn’t funny and to put his foot down. So I tortured him by cutting off his candy supply. I waved good and plenties in front of his face and when he went to take them, I said, “Nope, none for you.” He sulked and I added, “Aren’t you sorry you put your foot up now?” He nodded and I turned my back on him until my mom, much much softer than I am when it comes to Bob for obvious reasons, made me give him more.

    Bob the Retard & Mumsy’s shoulder.

    We collected Rob the obviously mentally challenged at his craptastic run-down apartment he thinks is great. Why? Because he considers himself a “cool kid” (even at 40-something) because he has a place so close to a college that he doesn’t go to. Why is this cool, do you ask? Because poor deluded Rob thinks of himself as a young man still, but we all know he’s not. Idiot. Once Rob was in the car, this was Bob’s queue to talk about anything but the present. Being a historian, he’s just not capable or something. He beings to remark about everything we pass as a trip he made once upon a time. “Oh look… Grandpa’s Cheesebarn..” As we passed it on the highway. “… we went there once, didn’t we, Rob?” Rob agrees and they watch the barn go by out the window. Bob then pipes up, “What did we get there,….. cheese?” This, of course, makes me laugh. I piped up, “I think you buy strawberries there…. or was it the place you get your tires rotated?” My mom is nearly wetting herself laughing but Bob and Rob don’t seem to get it. Not surprising.

    Bob the Retard & Rob’s head. Notice the zipped up jacket on Bob? Yeah, it’s 91 degrees outside.

    We then collect other family members and go out to dinner. B-renda & Van, Lisa (Rob’s sister), and a few others to complete my misery. Joy of joys. Dinner was actually tolerable because two tables were pushed together to seat the 9 of us, and I sat between David (who had a whole in the rear-end of his jeans and no mudder-feekin’ underwear on) and my mom with Van and Brenda sitting across from me and Rob waaaaaaay on the other side of the table where I didn’t have to look at him. Just as I like it.

    Dinner ends and my brothers Van & David decide to go out to “see if it’s still raining.” Code for, “lets go have a smoke.” My mom and I shake our heads as they trot off and I lean over to ask, with B-renda listening in, “Are you sure they aren’t partially retarded?” She laughs and then B-renda pipes up, “Honey, there are two people at this table I’m sure about, and you’re not one of ’em.” and she points at me. I blink a moment, positive I must have heard the sasquach wrong. I furrow my brow and ask, “Did you just call me a retard?” to which she promptly changes the subject. Oh no you di’n’t! I restrain myself from saying anything to her now. But it’s on biatch, oh yeah… it’s on like donkey kong! She’s lucky I didn’t wipe the floor with her hairy butt. She knows she did wrong, too… that’s the real clincher. I was all about making fun of her behind her back, restraining myself on my brother’s behalf, but dem’s fightin’ words.

    Summer Fun? Not Really!

    I’ve not had a chance to really sit down and blog lately due to the fact that I was lucky enough to catch a cold. All I’ve really wanted to do is lie around and blow my nose. I have had an interesting week as a top off to my interesting weekend.

    This coming weekend I’ll be driving my parents to pick up Bob’s son, Rob. Rob is a rather creepy individual who isn’t even allowed to stay in this house because I’m in it. My mom married Bob when I was about 16, and when we moved into a new home I had a room alone on the upper floor while my parents were downstairs. Unfortunately the guest bedroom was directly across from my room, and it shares the bathroom that sits in between the two rooms. I kept a bathrobe in the bathroom for those times I’d forget my towel, etc. I’d just washed it before Rob’s first visit, and hung it back in its place in the bathroom. That night when I went to put it on I noticed the tie for it was missing. I didn’t think anything of it, and when I spied it through the open guest bedroom door I thought I’d absent-mindedly placed it in there when I’d cleaned it for Rob’s arrival earlier. I dashed in and picked it up, put it back in the loops, and went about my way. The next day when it went missing, I was pretty puzzled. I glanced in the guest bedroom and there it was… sitting on a table all coiled up. Each day I would retrieve it, and each morning it would be right back in the guest bedroom. I have no idea what he did with it, but really some things are better left unknown, and I’m rather happy in my blissful ignorance in this case. To say the least, that robe is gone. I wanted nothing to do with it. And my mother was sufficiently horrified to request they get him a hotel on any other visit.

    Yeah, I’m looking forward to this crap. *sigh* Not to mention on Sunday I have to do my sisterly duties and be my brother Van’s observer while he visits with his kids. Please, I mean… I’ve been given so much goodness, God, you can spread it on to some one else, no really… I won’t mind.

    To help explain why I believe my brother is with B-renda I’ve included a picture of her and his ex-wife Michelle side-by-side. You can see the resemblance in body-types, for sure. The only difference is B-renda has facial hair and Michelle never used fake-nails or even attempted to grow hers. Also, Michelle was enamored with her breasts and showed them off whenever possible (even though this picture doesn’t show it – you can thank me later), while B-renda seems to keep hers under wraps.

    Van, while misguided, isn’t a horrible looking guy. He could, as NorseGod has mentioned, prolly do a bit better. But, whatever makes him happy.

    Poor Vanny… doomed before it’s even begun. Let’s hope he comes to his senses before taking the big leap with the hairy one. If it does happen, atleast Princess a.k.a Meghan, and Keithy will be there to share in the humor of it all.

    Evil Weekend – Part Two

    I’ll start out by saying I’m officially puzzled about B-renda’s face and arm hair. Her sister had none, and her mother was missing it too. This leads me closer in the direction of her really being a man.

    My evidence:

    Picture 1 – (from right to left) B-renda and her Mom. Can you see the discoloration under B-renda’s chin? Yeah, that’s stubble.

    Next, I’ve done a close up using the same picture. This is B-renda’s chin area. It’s much easier to see the scariness from this close. See the hair glistening in the area near the neck? Also note the discoloration in the upper lip area.

    Lastly, is the crazy arm hair. Now, I’ve known a few unfortunately females in my life that have had dark arm hair. We can’t all be lucky, I guess. This arm hair, however, is awefully thick.. not to mention the man hands at the ends of them.

    Can you see why I’d be worried? It happens, people! It’s possible! I just don’t understand why someone her age wouldn’t like… invest in electrolosis or some crap. Or wax! Ugh… so icky…

    Evil Weekend – Part One

    Yesterday with Meghan, Christina and Elek was the only bright spot. Thanks for including me, guys.

    This morning I groggily made my way out of bed and into the kitchen for my caffeine fix before I headed in to my good deeds – which will last me a VERY long time, or at least a week. The dreaded step-bater … err brother ( a whole other story) is coming into town next weekend for his birthday and a hand out of cash. So with these two weekends combined I should be golden for some time to come.

    We arrived at the church in perfect time. No one had come yet, and everything was all set up. It was sticky hot already at 10am so I knew I was in for a treat when and if the sun came out. I sighed as I neared the booth I’d been assigned to along side my mom. The food stand. Ugh. Our church was grilling hot dogs and hamburgers for anyone that wanted one and they were more than happy to feed you two or three times! Yay. So as I sat there in my funk of a mood my mom and the rest of the old bitties danced around to the early 90’s crap music playing. Hi, can I just make a suggestion to the DJ for next year? Yeah, “pump up the jam” isn’t kewl anymore, dude. Though I have to grudgingly admit that seeing the little ones dancing and playing and enjoying themselves made it less of a horrible experience. Even if they did play YMCA twice and try to make me play along. I’m here for the church or whatever, but don’t push your luck. YMCA isn’t as kewl when you’re not with your friends, drunk, on your way to being drunk, or in high school and even then you could really be pushing it. Our city’s baseball team mascot came out, the fire department with a fire truck, and the police department with the D.A.R.E van too. I snagged a junior police officer badge for fun, only to want to burn it once I saw the city was printed on it. Eww… Blahzville would shun me if they knew I wore the W-city’s junior police badge! But my nephew should like it. I know Pervy McPerverson seemed to enjoy it while I was wearing it. Yeah, when you stand there for 20 minutes with your eyes plastered to my chest I’m gonna notice. Also, no matter how slick you think you are, when you get closer to read the name on my little kid plastic badge… whoa! It’s not there! *gasp* Mm-hmm, … we can pretend you didn’t know… but really… we’d only be fibbing to ourselves now, wouldn’t we? Idiot. Even old boys are retards, what’s up with that crap?

    Alright, I escaped that crap for a crap load of more poo. Yeah, that’s right… I took my parents to get my step-sister, because heaven forbid we skip a week and NOT take her out to eat. I watched in horror as Lisa scarfed down her crepes and told stories about how there’s a guy at her “work” that craps and pees his pants every day at lunch. I’m soooo glad I only ordered fruit because pushing the plate away with something better on it would have been sad. Especially when she went in to detail. Normally she’s the funniest part of the weekend, but I was too tired to want to deal with that crap… literally, and on top of that I still had more things I had to do.

    Tomorrow will be the day of discovery. I will find out if B-renda, my brother Van’s fiancé, was born a male or if she has some major bad luck in the facial hair and arm hair department. I’m driving out with my brother, B-renda, and my parents to meet her mom, sister, and brother-in-law. Don’t worry… I’ll get photos if it’s a family thing. One can only hope.

    Something New

    I was getting tired of the old blog looks so I changed it to this one. It’s simple and clean and I like it! Hope you all do too.

    The only sad part about it is I’m no longer the best pink blog. You take the good with the bad, I suppose. Enjoy.