My mother, the Gator, can be critical of me and my haphazard approach to getting things done. I am, to quote my Sweetie, "The Queen of Pullit Outcher Azz." (And I wear that particular tiara with pride.)
But, my mother is just as haphazard as I am--if not moreso sometimes.
Take her family reunion, for example.
The woman wants me to "toss together" a flyer or something to send out to remind her people of the dates, and what's going on during those dates. She tells me "it's the same place as last year." (In all honesty, most of 'em just bleed together for me, so I can't remember last year's from not last year's.)
I throw together this flyer doohicky for her--having it ready today, to appease some arbitrary deadline that only she knows about.
She makes minor changes: the most glaring of which is that it is not "where it was last year." Now, I was careful to ONLY use information she gave me (remember, she's critical) and I didn't get cute or even humorous. She hates humorous.
I sit down to make the corrections and I realize that while she "proofread" and wasn't overly critical (I'm sure that will come later), she did NOT bring me the address list nor the postcards she wants me to enclose. I don't have envelopes, either.
I do, however, have stamps.
I call her, and the best part of this whole fiasco is that she doesn't even have the addresses. Someone else does.
I absolutely hate this about her. (My sister has a tendancy to do this also.) Don't give me 50% of what I need to do what you insist I must...and I know she's going to be pissed off at me later because it didn't get done the way, and on the schedule, she wanted.
But, of course, I'll still be hearing about how I screw things up by waiting til the "last minute."
Monday, May 26, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Grumpy
This is for all the people (all 40 dozen of them) who came in shopping today (in 40 degrees and high velocity winds, with occasional hail):
Idiot Shopper: Pretty cold out here, huh?
Mumple: Yup.
IS: It's terrible that they make you be out here like this.
M: I volunteer for this gig.
IS: I'm so cold!
M: Yup.
IS: Aren't you cold?
M: Yup.
IS: blah blah blah
M:
Mostly, I just can't get over how people who have a CHOICE in being out in the wind and cold would make it a point to go out there, and find people who technically do NOT have a choice in the matter.
Also, I just don't give a flying f*@& what anyone thinks. About anything. Ever. And cold temps and high winds do not bring out the best in me.
Thanks for listening.
On a side note, this Creep came in today and was adamant that I was going to leave my post and follow him through the garden center.
I had been hoping that I had pissed him off sufficiently last time I had to deal with him that he wouldn't want anything to do with me.
Okay, Creepboy, here's a hint. There's no way in hell I'm going anywhere with you--EVER. For any reason. And even if by some chance there's a way for it to happen, I'm still NOT doing it. You make my skin crawl, and the answer is a great big fat NO.
I just wish that for once, the freaks would decide to like someone else.
Idiot Shopper: Pretty cold out here, huh?
Mumple: Yup.
IS: It's terrible that they make you be out here like this.
M: I volunteer for this gig.
IS: I'm so cold!
M: Yup.
IS: Aren't you cold?
M: Yup.
IS: blah blah blah
M:
Mostly, I just can't get over how people who have a CHOICE in being out in the wind and cold would make it a point to go out there, and find people who technically do NOT have a choice in the matter.
Also, I just don't give a flying f*@& what anyone thinks. About anything. Ever. And cold temps and high winds do not bring out the best in me.
Thanks for listening.
On a side note, this Creep came in today and was adamant that I was going to leave my post and follow him through the garden center.
I had been hoping that I had pissed him off sufficiently last time I had to deal with him that he wouldn't want anything to do with me.
Okay, Creepboy, here's a hint. There's no way in hell I'm going anywhere with you--EVER. For any reason. And even if by some chance there's a way for it to happen, I'm still NOT doing it. You make my skin crawl, and the answer is a great big fat NO.
I just wish that for once, the freaks would decide to like someone else.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Is It Just Me?
Or did they hire a bunch of weirdos at work?
Okay, I get that not everyone can think, or think quickly. I get that not everyone is "as smart as mumple". If truth be told, even for my intolerance of lazy, stupid people I work with, I'm still waaaay more tolerant of the slow and cumbersome than most of the other people I work with.
The people who irritate the snot out of me are totally okay, cool, great for everyone else. And the people who irritate the snot out of everyone else, don't bother me in the slightest.
BUT, no matter how much I like you--if you are a 'tard about letting merchandise walk out the store without proper payment or supervision, OR if you are just too dammed slow and cumbersome to actually do your job under pressure in May the week before Memorial Day, there's a really good chance you're gonna hear the words "stupid" and "useless" come out of my mouth. And management, you've worked with me long enough to know that.
So, of the new people they've hired, so far, we have "Overwhelmed"--she's better than most of the women her age who are hired and totally intimidated by the fact that our cash registers are more computer than register (I think some of them learned to make change on an abacus in ancient Egypt), BUT, it took her two 8 hour days and multiple explainations for her "realize" what a "code 3"(3 or more people in line to check out) is and how to get more bodies running register. She had NO CLUE, until about 48 hours into her 2nd 8 hour shift what the "code board" was for. I know I explained it at least 3 times, and she had been, at that point, with me for about 2 hours. I'm using the word "Overwhelmed" to describe her because she is totally flummoxed by ANY thing that she needs to do that isn't an every-other-transaction thing.
One of them likes to have the phone (the cordless/cell phone each department has to field calls from people too crazy to actually come into our store) but he barely knows how to answer it. "Phone Man" can't transfer a call. He can't call outside the store. He can't page and he can't pick up a call that wasn't sent directly to him. He's friendly, though, and always willing to lift, carry, or otherwise be a pack mule for the customer.
One of them take stray merchandise and bring it to the register. Even if he walks past it's home on the shelf or table to do it. If you have a cart of stray merchandise (like mulch) that needs to go back to it's home on the shelf, or if someone has brought you stuff they haven't paid for yet (or if it IS paid for, but they didn't take it immediately to their vehicle) he asks EVERY time he wanders past the register, "Are you sure those don't go back?" He also thinks that we use damaged merchandise in displays, and that hanging baskets (what is it with the universe, me, and hanging baskets?) that have cracks or chips, fresh off the produce truck, cannot be sold. I finally had to tell "Display Man" that "ALL the plants are currently on DISPLAY. Hang it with the rest of 'em." We were also out of the large rolls of plastic we have as a courtesy for customers to line their trunks so their plants don't vomit on the carpet--he tried to take the cardboard tube OFF the metal holder to take it with him to get a new roll. I had to practically wrest it from him.
The guy they had pull carts in from the parking lot yesterday hauled them in, and LEFT them in the main entry aisle. As if it makes sense to see registers, and customers separated by an impassable sea of carts. "Dude" looked a little put out when I said, "Hi! I need you to move those carts over there. Please don't leave 'em in this aisle--it can't be blocked. Thanks." I mean, other than an immediate need for a mass exodus (trapped skunk inside the garden center) I can't imagine why we'd want customers to be able to come in, go out, or get to the registers. Really.
Finally, we come to the stick woman who creeps me out. She wasn't as creepy 24 years ago in high school, but she's way creepy now. Maybe it was the lightening that struck her several years ago. I don't care why. She kept coming up to the register on Saturday and demanding to know if I knew where "her" pricing gun was. I kept telling her that someone else has it, and "Lightening Grrrl" still kept coming up every 30 minutes or so, pawing around under my register (I am trying to curb my territorialism, I really am!) and asking if I had it. Honestly, if I had the dammed thing, I'd have given it to you just to make you GO AWAY!
I haven't experienced many of the newbies, though. I think, given this cross sampling, I'd rather not. (and they wonder why I won't bother to learn most of their names until next January.) Sheesh.
Okay, I get that not everyone can think, or think quickly. I get that not everyone is "as smart as mumple". If truth be told, even for my intolerance of lazy, stupid people I work with, I'm still waaaay more tolerant of the slow and cumbersome than most of the other people I work with.
The people who irritate the snot out of me are totally okay, cool, great for everyone else. And the people who irritate the snot out of everyone else, don't bother me in the slightest.
BUT, no matter how much I like you--if you are a 'tard about letting merchandise walk out the store without proper payment or supervision, OR if you are just too dammed slow and cumbersome to actually do your job under pressure in May the week before Memorial Day, there's a really good chance you're gonna hear the words "stupid" and "useless" come out of my mouth. And management, you've worked with me long enough to know that.
So, of the new people they've hired, so far, we have "Overwhelmed"--she's better than most of the women her age who are hired and totally intimidated by the fact that our cash registers are more computer than register (I think some of them learned to make change on an abacus in ancient Egypt), BUT, it took her two 8 hour days and multiple explainations for her "realize" what a "code 3"(3 or more people in line to check out) is and how to get more bodies running register. She had NO CLUE, until about 48 hours into her 2nd 8 hour shift what the "code board" was for. I know I explained it at least 3 times, and she had been, at that point, with me for about 2 hours. I'm using the word "Overwhelmed" to describe her because she is totally flummoxed by ANY thing that she needs to do that isn't an every-other-transaction thing.
One of them likes to have the phone (the cordless/cell phone each department has to field calls from people too crazy to actually come into our store) but he barely knows how to answer it. "Phone Man" can't transfer a call. He can't call outside the store. He can't page and he can't pick up a call that wasn't sent directly to him. He's friendly, though, and always willing to lift, carry, or otherwise be a pack mule for the customer.
One of them take stray merchandise and bring it to the register. Even if he walks past it's home on the shelf or table to do it. If you have a cart of stray merchandise (like mulch) that needs to go back to it's home on the shelf, or if someone has brought you stuff they haven't paid for yet (or if it IS paid for, but they didn't take it immediately to their vehicle) he asks EVERY time he wanders past the register, "Are you sure those don't go back?" He also thinks that we use damaged merchandise in displays, and that hanging baskets (what is it with the universe, me, and hanging baskets?) that have cracks or chips, fresh off the produce truck, cannot be sold. I finally had to tell "Display Man" that "ALL the plants are currently on DISPLAY. Hang it with the rest of 'em." We were also out of the large rolls of plastic we have as a courtesy for customers to line their trunks so their plants don't vomit on the carpet--he tried to take the cardboard tube OFF the metal holder to take it with him to get a new roll. I had to practically wrest it from him.
The guy they had pull carts in from the parking lot yesterday hauled them in, and LEFT them in the main entry aisle. As if it makes sense to see registers, and customers separated by an impassable sea of carts. "Dude" looked a little put out when I said, "Hi! I need you to move those carts over there. Please don't leave 'em in this aisle--it can't be blocked. Thanks." I mean, other than an immediate need for a mass exodus (trapped skunk inside the garden center) I can't imagine why we'd want customers to be able to come in, go out, or get to the registers. Really.
Finally, we come to the stick woman who creeps me out. She wasn't as creepy 24 years ago in high school, but she's way creepy now. Maybe it was the lightening that struck her several years ago. I don't care why. She kept coming up to the register on Saturday and demanding to know if I knew where "her" pricing gun was. I kept telling her that someone else has it, and "Lightening Grrrl" still kept coming up every 30 minutes or so, pawing around under my register (I am trying to curb my territorialism, I really am!) and asking if I had it. Honestly, if I had the dammed thing, I'd have given it to you just to make you GO AWAY!
I haven't experienced many of the newbies, though. I think, given this cross sampling, I'd rather not. (and they wonder why I won't bother to learn most of their names until next January.) Sheesh.
About My Question
So, some of my readers may not know the history of weddings in my family.
I have to go all the way back to 2000 to begin to explain. My brother was getting married. He was being a paranoid Groomzilla. Seriously, his bride didn't get nutty until AFTER the wedding. Every time he got mad at anyone else in our family or hers, he threw me out of the wedding. In all, there were three times I got the boot. The insanity stopped after I had paid for the dress (which, to her credit, was NOT atrocious nor was it horribly expensive. Shoes, I got for even cheaper because the company had my size on back order. But, I digress.) Part of the reason it stopped was that his bride was informed, in a humorous fashion, that I was, yet again, OUT of the wedding. I had already informed him that unless he paid for my dress and shoes, guess what I was wearing to the wedding, regardless of whether I was in the bridal party or not. Yeppers, that dress and those shoes. And if I wasn't invited, I'd cheerfully explain to any and all askers why I wasn't. (He's an ass.) Needless to say, I was back IN. (On a side note, my Sweetie was happy that he missed the wedding-party-decision making process by a few months when we got together. HAH! He should have known better--since they got married shortly after 9-11, and airline service was still wonky at that time, one of the groomsmen backed out mere DAYS before the ceremony. My Sweetie was asked to pinch hit, and adjustments were made in the order we processed in so my Sweetie and I could hold hands.) Several members of my immediate family were informed, shortly before the ceremony, also, that our alcohol intake would be monitored, and if we didn't "behave" to his Majesty the Groom's specs, we would be ejected from the reception. (It was fun to know that I would not be drinking, because I had a Howler in the Oven, and vindication that it was the bride's family that almost came to blows, not us. HAH!)
Anyway, that was my first taste of wedding insanity. I didn't enjoy it, and while I appreciated that I didn't look like a deranged refugee from the trailer park cotillion, it really wasn't my idea of a good time.
We come to my wedding, Fall '02. I wanted a church wedding, but I wasn't interested in having a huge blow-out affair (in part because of the crap over my brother's wedding the previous year.) My Sweetie was fine with whatever I wanted. What I truly wanted was fewer than 30 people (including the wedding party) and I was satisfied with fewer than 50.
In the course of deciding who was in the fewer than 50 category, I axed all cousins, including first cousins. I didn't invite the one or two friends I really would have liked to have there, and they mostly understood. It was also the idea that "It's HER wedding, she should have it HER way."
That subtlety was lost on one of my cousins. Not one I was particularly close to, either. Remarkably enough, it wasn't a girl cousin, either. I hadn't been overly impressed with this guy for a while anyway, and I didn't invite ANY cousins at all.
I cannot stress enough that the only arguement that took place between the bride (me) and ANY one else was over my choice in dresses. I was happy with it, and that's all that mattered to me. I did "put my foot down" regarding my flowers. My dress wasn't white, but I wanted my flowers to be. What my mom (God love her, she did 90% of the running around!) first chose was NOT white flowers. She had to change it. Big deal. Two "problems" I wasn't willing to budge on.
Hell, I let my bridesmaid (my sister) choose her dress--I was happy that she was happy with what she chose. I sent a swatch to my soon-to-be sister in law because her youngest daughter was going to be a junior bridesmaid, and told her, "Match this. Let her pick the dress she likes." Wear your hair the way you like.
I didn't argue over menu. I didn't argue over decorations (they were, in fact, loaned to me by my brother's bride--and she did the decorating design. I didn't care what she did, and I wasn't disappointed--it was beautiful and tasteful.)
Anyway, about 2 weeks before my wedding, I get phone call from my asshole cousin. He's bitching me out for not inviting him, and demands that I invite him (and his family). The Howler was in the middle of having a breathing episode, and I was still working full time. I was caught off guard.
He insisted that I issue him an invite. I didn't. He came anyway. He drove about 4 hours from his home to our mutual hometown, and then the 40 minutes to the wedding ceremony that day. (I couldn't bar him from the actual wedding ceremony because the church was "open to the public"--yes, I checked, and even the priest would not. He assured me, however, that even thought the reception was being held in the church hall, I could refuse to have him admitted to that. So I did.)
My mother informed me the Thursday before my wedding. (Keeping in mind that it was "inconsiderate" of me to plan my wedding for a Saturday in October, but it was totally fine for my brother's wedding to be a Saturday in September the prior year. There's no way to fathom my mother's thought processes.) I was, to say the least, beyond pissed off. I was more than angry when my mother suggested I call my Aunt (or this ass) and go ahead and invite him. I refused.
My mother said that SHE would invite him and his family to come to the dinner. She used the excuse that he had a 5-year-old daughter. I informed my mother that I was NOT the one who told him to come, uninvited. I was NOT going to be at my own reception if that little blankety blank blank (yeah, the language I used was well beyond my usual potty mouth, and I won't repeat it, it was that bad) woud be there.
She tried to use my MIL as a weapon. (Oh, c'mon, you can't do that to Kevin's mother.) I told her that I was sure his mother would understand that my mother was choosing my asshole cousin over ME.
I'm not one for ultimatums. They set bad precedents and rarely work out the way you want them to. I set one for her then.
If so much as one cookie from my reception goes to that fat little f-er and/or his family, I will know that you choose HIM over ME. It's put up or shut up time, Mom. ME or them. I have been totally okay with EVERY THING everyone else wanted for this wedding. I have made accommodations for EVERY ONE else. I will NOT on this point. If he's in that hall, I won't be. Period. You can say whatever else you want--but I. WILL. NOT. BE. THERE.
The little buttwipe "snuck" in late.
I decided there and then, that I wasn't going to live this way--and that I would have no regrets. Since then, I have contact with him only during family reunions, and that usually involves me walking away from him at every opportunity. (No one except those in my immediate family know about what I think about him and why.) I spend a lot of time biting my tongue.
For the longest time, my mother spent a lot of energy trying to get me to "make up" to him. Part of the problem is that this self centered moron has never noticed that he's not welcome in my life or home. He hasn't noticed that I have nothing to say to him when we do happen to be in the same room. He hasn't noticed the barely concealled disgust in my voice if I do have to speak to him.
There are nuances in here too numerous to mention. I'll just say that unless he was totally choosing to ignore my dislike and disgust, there's no way he should have missed it.
Until now. In March, my grandmother celebrated her 90th birthday. My mother planned a birthday dinner, and it was nice to see my grandmother be surprised and happy to have a birthday. (My grandmother also believed that I OWED the asshole an invite--and that he was perfectly right in bitching my out before hand and in "crashing" my wedding.) At the dinner, he tried to hug me, and aside from the whole "ewww" factor I feel around him aside from the wedding thing, I just wasn't doing it. I told him, "I don't think so. NO." and threw his arm off my shoulders.
He apparently asked my sister if I was mad at him. She told him she didn't know. He noticed, but so far, hasn't even tried to contact me to find out for sure. (I can't say I blame my sister, but still, she should have told him, at least, to ask me for himself.)
Anyway, with the other side of my family (the Ass is from my mom's side, the etiquette-challenged groom from the previous post is from my dad's side) doing their wedding invite shuffle has caused my mother and my brother to tell me that I am no better than the Ass.
While I don't believe that's true. My brother's family was in the same boat with their daughters being told to "save the date" and then not invited, and HE benefits from my being "ass" enough to call and ask--again, I called and stated my confusion over the "save the date" and invite discrepancies, I was never going to drag either of the spawn to a wedding they were not invited to. And I would NEVER have demanded that my spawn be invited, either. I simply wanted to know if I misunderstood. I also wanted to be able to let my Aunt (my dad's sister) know, when I had to tell her why the Howler (nor me & my Sweetie) would be there.
To this day, I do not feel badly in my decision to stop speaking to the Ass. I do not miss him. I don't have smart aleck asshole comments whenever I am at a family reunion and trying to have a conversation. I don't have to listen to his diatribes and I don't have him humping my leg. Yes, I'm still angry, but it's more at the fact that he decided, at some point, that it was okay to disrespect me while saying that he cared.
He is a manipulative jerk, a bully. He wanted to make ME do what he said to do. He wanted to be more important on my wedding day than either my Sweetie or I. I said, "No." and meant it. I haven't regretted it. I still feel very angry sometimes, but I think that in any situation where someone makes you feel disrespected and diminished, when someone puts you in a position to have to draw a line in your life that should never have to be drawn, it's normal to still feel angry, even almost 6 years later.
But it also makes me angry that the difference in these two situations is lost by those who were there--who saw and heard and knew what he did to me and that they would equate ME with HIM. If it weren't a wedding, would they still? If I had allowed myself to be manipulated for my wedding, would they think more of me now (God, but that one makes me want to throw up)? I don't expect anyone else in my family to "take my side" and to shut him out the way I have (I have, however, made it clear that they are not to ambush me with him in anyway, and they aren't to expect me to show interest in their contact with him.) I think, overall, I have been as mature as a person can be, when confronted with this kind of emotional blackmail by a family member.
Too bad I can't be like my brother and just conveniently "forget" the crappy stuff that revolved around my wedding and my own behavior at that time...oh, wait. I wasn't the one being a jerk then. Ahhh. No wonder it's so difficult for others.
I have to go all the way back to 2000 to begin to explain. My brother was getting married. He was being a paranoid Groomzilla. Seriously, his bride didn't get nutty until AFTER the wedding. Every time he got mad at anyone else in our family or hers, he threw me out of the wedding. In all, there were three times I got the boot. The insanity stopped after I had paid for the dress (which, to her credit, was NOT atrocious nor was it horribly expensive. Shoes, I got for even cheaper because the company had my size on back order. But, I digress.) Part of the reason it stopped was that his bride was informed, in a humorous fashion, that I was, yet again, OUT of the wedding. I had already informed him that unless he paid for my dress and shoes, guess what I was wearing to the wedding, regardless of whether I was in the bridal party or not. Yeppers, that dress and those shoes. And if I wasn't invited, I'd cheerfully explain to any and all askers why I wasn't. (He's an ass.) Needless to say, I was back IN. (On a side note, my Sweetie was happy that he missed the wedding-party-decision making process by a few months when we got together. HAH! He should have known better--since they got married shortly after 9-11, and airline service was still wonky at that time, one of the groomsmen backed out mere DAYS before the ceremony. My Sweetie was asked to pinch hit, and adjustments were made in the order we processed in so my Sweetie and I could hold hands.) Several members of my immediate family were informed, shortly before the ceremony, also, that our alcohol intake would be monitored, and if we didn't "behave" to his Majesty the Groom's specs, we would be ejected from the reception. (It was fun to know that I would not be drinking, because I had a Howler in the Oven, and vindication that it was the bride's family that almost came to blows, not us. HAH!)
Anyway, that was my first taste of wedding insanity. I didn't enjoy it, and while I appreciated that I didn't look like a deranged refugee from the trailer park cotillion, it really wasn't my idea of a good time.
We come to my wedding, Fall '02. I wanted a church wedding, but I wasn't interested in having a huge blow-out affair (in part because of the crap over my brother's wedding the previous year.) My Sweetie was fine with whatever I wanted. What I truly wanted was fewer than 30 people (including the wedding party) and I was satisfied with fewer than 50.
In the course of deciding who was in the fewer than 50 category, I axed all cousins, including first cousins. I didn't invite the one or two friends I really would have liked to have there, and they mostly understood. It was also the idea that "It's HER wedding, she should have it HER way."
That subtlety was lost on one of my cousins. Not one I was particularly close to, either. Remarkably enough, it wasn't a girl cousin, either. I hadn't been overly impressed with this guy for a while anyway, and I didn't invite ANY cousins at all.
I cannot stress enough that the only arguement that took place between the bride (me) and ANY one else was over my choice in dresses. I was happy with it, and that's all that mattered to me. I did "put my foot down" regarding my flowers. My dress wasn't white, but I wanted my flowers to be. What my mom (God love her, she did 90% of the running around!) first chose was NOT white flowers. She had to change it. Big deal. Two "problems" I wasn't willing to budge on.
Hell, I let my bridesmaid (my sister) choose her dress--I was happy that she was happy with what she chose. I sent a swatch to my soon-to-be sister in law because her youngest daughter was going to be a junior bridesmaid, and told her, "Match this. Let her pick the dress she likes." Wear your hair the way you like.
I didn't argue over menu. I didn't argue over decorations (they were, in fact, loaned to me by my brother's bride--and she did the decorating design. I didn't care what she did, and I wasn't disappointed--it was beautiful and tasteful.)
Anyway, about 2 weeks before my wedding, I get phone call from my asshole cousin. He's bitching me out for not inviting him, and demands that I invite him (and his family). The Howler was in the middle of having a breathing episode, and I was still working full time. I was caught off guard.
He insisted that I issue him an invite. I didn't. He came anyway. He drove about 4 hours from his home to our mutual hometown, and then the 40 minutes to the wedding ceremony that day. (I couldn't bar him from the actual wedding ceremony because the church was "open to the public"--yes, I checked, and even the priest would not. He assured me, however, that even thought the reception was being held in the church hall, I could refuse to have him admitted to that. So I did.)
My mother informed me the Thursday before my wedding. (Keeping in mind that it was "inconsiderate" of me to plan my wedding for a Saturday in October, but it was totally fine for my brother's wedding to be a Saturday in September the prior year. There's no way to fathom my mother's thought processes.) I was, to say the least, beyond pissed off. I was more than angry when my mother suggested I call my Aunt (or this ass) and go ahead and invite him. I refused.
My mother said that SHE would invite him and his family to come to the dinner. She used the excuse that he had a 5-year-old daughter. I informed my mother that I was NOT the one who told him to come, uninvited. I was NOT going to be at my own reception if that little blankety blank blank (yeah, the language I used was well beyond my usual potty mouth, and I won't repeat it, it was that bad) woud be there.
She tried to use my MIL as a weapon. (Oh, c'mon, you can't do that to Kevin's mother.) I told her that I was sure his mother would understand that my mother was choosing my asshole cousin over ME.
I'm not one for ultimatums. They set bad precedents and rarely work out the way you want them to. I set one for her then.
If so much as one cookie from my reception goes to that fat little f-er and/or his family, I will know that you choose HIM over ME. It's put up or shut up time, Mom. ME or them. I have been totally okay with EVERY THING everyone else wanted for this wedding. I have made accommodations for EVERY ONE else. I will NOT on this point. If he's in that hall, I won't be. Period. You can say whatever else you want--but I. WILL. NOT. BE. THERE.
The little buttwipe "snuck" in late.
I decided there and then, that I wasn't going to live this way--and that I would have no regrets. Since then, I have contact with him only during family reunions, and that usually involves me walking away from him at every opportunity. (No one except those in my immediate family know about what I think about him and why.) I spend a lot of time biting my tongue.
For the longest time, my mother spent a lot of energy trying to get me to "make up" to him. Part of the problem is that this self centered moron has never noticed that he's not welcome in my life or home. He hasn't noticed that I have nothing to say to him when we do happen to be in the same room. He hasn't noticed the barely concealled disgust in my voice if I do have to speak to him.
There are nuances in here too numerous to mention. I'll just say that unless he was totally choosing to ignore my dislike and disgust, there's no way he should have missed it.
Until now. In March, my grandmother celebrated her 90th birthday. My mother planned a birthday dinner, and it was nice to see my grandmother be surprised and happy to have a birthday. (My grandmother also believed that I OWED the asshole an invite--and that he was perfectly right in bitching my out before hand and in "crashing" my wedding.) At the dinner, he tried to hug me, and aside from the whole "ewww" factor I feel around him aside from the wedding thing, I just wasn't doing it. I told him, "I don't think so. NO." and threw his arm off my shoulders.
He apparently asked my sister if I was mad at him. She told him she didn't know. He noticed, but so far, hasn't even tried to contact me to find out for sure. (I can't say I blame my sister, but still, she should have told him, at least, to ask me for himself.)
Anyway, with the other side of my family (the Ass is from my mom's side, the etiquette-challenged groom from the previous post is from my dad's side) doing their wedding invite shuffle has caused my mother and my brother to tell me that I am no better than the Ass.
While I don't believe that's true. My brother's family was in the same boat with their daughters being told to "save the date" and then not invited, and HE benefits from my being "ass" enough to call and ask--again, I called and stated my confusion over the "save the date" and invite discrepancies, I was never going to drag either of the spawn to a wedding they were not invited to. And I would NEVER have demanded that my spawn be invited, either. I simply wanted to know if I misunderstood. I also wanted to be able to let my Aunt (my dad's sister) know, when I had to tell her why the Howler (nor me & my Sweetie) would be there.
To this day, I do not feel badly in my decision to stop speaking to the Ass. I do not miss him. I don't have smart aleck asshole comments whenever I am at a family reunion and trying to have a conversation. I don't have to listen to his diatribes and I don't have him humping my leg. Yes, I'm still angry, but it's more at the fact that he decided, at some point, that it was okay to disrespect me while saying that he cared.
He is a manipulative jerk, a bully. He wanted to make ME do what he said to do. He wanted to be more important on my wedding day than either my Sweetie or I. I said, "No." and meant it. I haven't regretted it. I still feel very angry sometimes, but I think that in any situation where someone makes you feel disrespected and diminished, when someone puts you in a position to have to draw a line in your life that should never have to be drawn, it's normal to still feel angry, even almost 6 years later.
But it also makes me angry that the difference in these two situations is lost by those who were there--who saw and heard and knew what he did to me and that they would equate ME with HIM. If it weren't a wedding, would they still? If I had allowed myself to be manipulated for my wedding, would they think more of me now (God, but that one makes me want to throw up)? I don't expect anyone else in my family to "take my side" and to shut him out the way I have (I have, however, made it clear that they are not to ambush me with him in anyway, and they aren't to expect me to show interest in their contact with him.) I think, overall, I have been as mature as a person can be, when confronted with this kind of emotional blackmail by a family member.
Too bad I can't be like my brother and just conveniently "forget" the crappy stuff that revolved around my wedding and my own behavior at that time...oh, wait. I wasn't the one being a jerk then. Ahhh. No wonder it's so difficult for others.
Friday, May 09, 2008
More More More
Cried the attention whore.
Sorry, but yet again this month, the newsletter arrived and I am astounded (ASS. TOWN. DED.) by the unadulterated whine for money and attention.
This month's included a Treasurer's report for his parish. I'm sorry, but something like that is, to me, PRIVATE. As in, this particular congregation's business--and if need be, the council, committee & bishop's business if things are truly THAT bad. But in general (and I know he's been stomping through the diocese making noises about how little money he and his parish have got) I don't believe that this is information that should be printed and sent out to THE ENTIRE DIOCESE.
To me, it's bad taste and it screams of "Poor, pitiful ME!"
My Sweetie, I'm sure, thinks that my seeing it this way is more a reflection of what I think of this parish priest, and not so much an objective view. I get that. I know that at least on some level, my disgust with this has EVERYTHING to do with who this man is, and not just feeling embarrassed for this congregation who has him.
But, on another level, I can't help be breathe a sigh of relief that I left this parish ages ago, and don't have to feel violated by this man's total lack of social skills. And I don't have to feel embarrassed that he's representing ME anywhere, for any length of time.
Today, I also, coincidentally, got to see what this parish is "encouraging" it's people to do with their tax incentive checks--it seems that they all received envelopes to "tithe" part of that money to the church. Now, I understand the concept of the tithe. But I also know that it is NOBODY's business what you give (or don't give) to your church. AND I know that a tithe is Time, Talent, and Treasure...and it includes ALL charitable giving you do--not just what ol' Father Attention Whore knows about.
It's horribly presumptuous of him. It's also pretty creepy.
Is it any wonder he skeeves me out so much? I don't think so.
Sorry, but yet again this month, the newsletter arrived and I am astounded (ASS. TOWN. DED.) by the unadulterated whine for money and attention.
This month's included a Treasurer's report for his parish. I'm sorry, but something like that is, to me, PRIVATE. As in, this particular congregation's business--and if need be, the council, committee & bishop's business if things are truly THAT bad. But in general (and I know he's been stomping through the diocese making noises about how little money he and his parish have got) I don't believe that this is information that should be printed and sent out to THE ENTIRE DIOCESE.
To me, it's bad taste and it screams of "Poor, pitiful ME!"
My Sweetie, I'm sure, thinks that my seeing it this way is more a reflection of what I think of this parish priest, and not so much an objective view. I get that. I know that at least on some level, my disgust with this has EVERYTHING to do with who this man is, and not just feeling embarrassed for this congregation who has him.
But, on another level, I can't help be breathe a sigh of relief that I left this parish ages ago, and don't have to feel violated by this man's total lack of social skills. And I don't have to feel embarrassed that he's representing ME anywhere, for any length of time.
Today, I also, coincidentally, got to see what this parish is "encouraging" it's people to do with their tax incentive checks--it seems that they all received envelopes to "tithe" part of that money to the church. Now, I understand the concept of the tithe. But I also know that it is NOBODY's business what you give (or don't give) to your church. AND I know that a tithe is Time, Talent, and Treasure...and it includes ALL charitable giving you do--not just what ol' Father Attention Whore knows about.
It's horribly presumptuous of him. It's also pretty creepy.
Is it any wonder he skeeves me out so much? I don't think so.
Mother's Day
Another useless made-up holiday. Oh, how I hate 'em.
Okay, I admit, if I were older, and a man, I'd be called a curmudgeon. And I like that idea. Why can't women be curmudgeons?
Anyway, I don't like holidays that require a superficial sentiment. Hell, I don't like shopping for birthday cards.
I'm not opposed to it, as long as it's not something that I am expected to participate in, but I do have to say that I think greeting cards, in general, are over priced, and useless. I send Christmas cards because I can get them on the cheap, but I honestly think I should get special dispensation from having to buy, sign, and send Mother's Day cards--for ever. I apparently suck as a mom (no, this is not some psycho attempt to gather praise for myself. I honestly think that right now, I suck.)
I've been a mother (no comments from the peanut gallery, please) for just over 19 years. I can honestly say that Mother's Day actually means very little to me. Having a *special day* just *for me* seems useless. It's not like I get the day to myself...and, most years, if I'm working, it's just a series of glimpses into the whacked-out-ness of most of the people on the planet: for example, one year, a guy stood outside the garden center gates shortly before the store opened and cursed and yelled at me because he had "a hanging basket emergency." WTF? I maintain that there's absolutely NO SUCH THING--even if the hanging basket is flying towards your head, it's a blunt-force trauma emergency, not a hanging basket emergency.
I like my birthday better--and we all know what I really think of that. *sigh* I know I forgot to get an inflated priced, supersappy card for someone...but who?
On a happier note:
For Mother's Day, the Howler made a pencil holder with a can, popsicle sticks and ribbon. It's sweet, but the best part is the coupon book she colored and filled in. It's got the single best gift any 6 year old could offer her mother--she'll play outside 10 times. (Yeah, it's a keeper. I'm hiding it from her!)
Okay, I admit, if I were older, and a man, I'd be called a curmudgeon. And I like that idea. Why can't women be curmudgeons?
Anyway, I don't like holidays that require a superficial sentiment. Hell, I don't like shopping for birthday cards.
I'm not opposed to it, as long as it's not something that I am expected to participate in, but I do have to say that I think greeting cards, in general, are over priced, and useless. I send Christmas cards because I can get them on the cheap, but I honestly think I should get special dispensation from having to buy, sign, and send Mother's Day cards--for ever. I apparently suck as a mom (no, this is not some psycho attempt to gather praise for myself. I honestly think that right now, I suck.)
I've been a mother (no comments from the peanut gallery, please) for just over 19 years. I can honestly say that Mother's Day actually means very little to me. Having a *special day* just *for me* seems useless. It's not like I get the day to myself...and, most years, if I'm working, it's just a series of glimpses into the whacked-out-ness of most of the people on the planet: for example, one year, a guy stood outside the garden center gates shortly before the store opened and cursed and yelled at me because he had "a hanging basket emergency." WTF? I maintain that there's absolutely NO SUCH THING--even if the hanging basket is flying towards your head, it's a blunt-force trauma emergency, not a hanging basket emergency.
I like my birthday better--and we all know what I really think of that. *sigh* I know I forgot to get an inflated priced, supersappy card for someone...but who?
On a happier note:
For Mother's Day, the Howler made a pencil holder with a can, popsicle sticks and ribbon. It's sweet, but the best part is the coupon book she colored and filled in. It's got the single best gift any 6 year old could offer her mother--she'll play outside 10 times. (Yeah, it's a keeper. I'm hiding it from her!)
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