Monday, November 12, 2007

Fuck you sugar, fuck you Crisco

I know, what does that mean? Well let me tell you a little about my family. They are the worst communicators ever! Here is the T:

I flew with my two daughters from lovely Portland, OR to not-so-lovely Missouri for a week of contract work and family time. Saturday and Sunday are designated family visits, I have one grandma and one good friend that I will visit in St. Joseph, Mo (a little town just left of Satan's asshole.) This trip is never an easy one, this time it is doubly hard in that I am corralling a 3 year old and a 1 year old by myself.

After one heck of a morning of simultaneous mass going/child rodeo, I make haste to visit the fam. We get to grandma's, there is a car in front of her house, suddenly my brain goes into panic mode "holy shit it is one of my father's long lost half siblings! Maybe now I will have that Hallmark moment! Hugs and kisses! Maybe they well tell me that we are all part of the Russian Royal Family and are actually living in exile (I always knew it, score!)" Holy shit! It was aunt Carol (I know not a name for a Tsaritsa but who knows maybe that was part of the cover to foil the communists!) Unfortunately, the slightly delusional scenario that I previously had proposed was not the case, you see she had decided to drive 6 miles to borrow a cup of sugar. She spent all of 15 minutes with us, no real questions, nothing real at all then, she left. The daughters and I spend a good 2 hours with grandma, then, just as we are about to leave, the phone rings! It is my aunt Maryanne, she needs to borrow some Crisco. 10 minutes later she is there, she spends all of 10 minutes not talking to me and leaves with the Crisco, we left soon after utterly baffled unaware that my grandma's house is a veritable bastion of pastry ingredients. Who knew that these rare ingredients are not available at the 6 grocery stores that line the road that leads to our great matriarch (Her Highness Grace Ruth All the Russias.)

As the rest of the day progressed, my crazy mind began to tally up this odd experience. In the 21 years since my dad passed away his siblings have gone out of there way to avoid us, whatever... Here is the thing, he lived for those asses! supporting them in college, defending them against assey husbands, moving them from houses etc. They idolize him, St. Gary... He was a pretty great guy to be honest.

I don't know what this is about, I mean really. They knew that I was coming, why not just hang out? Why not show some interest in your beautiful great-nieces? Come on you foul creatures, 25 minutes in 21 years? That is shit! And even then you lie about it, you couldn't possibly be interested in us? You just needed to bake a cake? Fuck that bitches! St. Gary would be ashamed of you.

Then again, there is that old song "if I knew you were coming I'd a baked a cake" maybe I just left too soon, shit...

1 comment:

deeluxegal said...

that's all kind of messed up. happy thanksgiving, huh?