Wednesday, April 05, 2006


OK, a couple teeny complaints here.

I don't give a shit who you are. DO NOT invite me to your million dollar house and expect me to take off my expensive shoes and walk around on your filthy floors, THEN put my expensive shoes back on dirty feet. HELLO!??? They're intercoursing floors--not holy relics, baby! These floors were made for walking. At the in-laws' new home, I was expected to go to the master bath with everyone else and watch the darling baby niece (she is a cute girl) have her way with the big jacuzzi tub, when I was informed we are still removing our shoes to walk on the floor in this part of the house. I didn't say anything, but I stayed behind, happy not to be part of the expedition, 'cause I'm not taking off my fucking shoes, bitches!

OK, you knew this was coming. A month ago I bitched and moaned about the sister- and brother-in-law coming from San Francisco to visit. Apparently one of her pet peeves is that her profession has two spellings, and she rolls her eyes at the most common: dietician. Frankly, I've seen it spelled that way all my life, so I'm going to stick with familiar usage since it pisses her off so. Anyway, her sanctimonious, condescending bitch-assed-ho self proceeds to catalog for everyone what tremendously poor dietary choices her husband has made at every meal. Before dinner, MIL and SIL were orbiting each other in the kitchen while the men manned the grill outside, and I sat quietly at the table marveling at these two harpys getting on each other's tits, wishing I had a bowl of popcorn while watching the show. They are both neurotic control-freaks, so it was a golden moment of double-payback time. MIL won, by the way, since no one can out-freak her.

Exquisite steaks were grilled, but while the others of us feasted on gorgeous side dishes from Central Market, BIL had a spartan baked potato with his beef. She had a chicken breast from a deli with a potato. She offered him some of a mystery packet of stuff to garnish his potato with, and he said "no, it's my vacation, I'm going to have butter." At that point I was thinking "good for you, man! Slather the good shit on, put up your feet and relax." So what does he festoon his naked spud with? I can't believe it's not butter - a butter substitute! WTF??? This is a vacation? Shit. I guess he's lucky she let him have a steak. Gawd, and she's his second control freak wife. I guess growing up with a mother like that, he just wanted another woman he could go on auto-pilot with. Mission accomplished.

It's annoying as shit that this woman has the most underdeveloped sense of irony I've ever seen. Saturday I said something about a tv program, and she said imperiously "we have a child now, we don't have time for television." So imagine my amazement (not at all, actually) when last night she gasped and said "The Amazing Race is on!" and sparks flew off her feet as she hastened to the television to hook up to the borg. Apparently, she doesn't consider her addiction to that show and CSI to be television. Television is what crap people from Texas watch - people who eat real butter and misspell her vocation.

Props to husband to doing a bit of a tidy-up on the house, because BIL needed to come here and use our internet connection for some work stuff today, because dial-up wouldn't be good enough. Well, um, ok. Our house looks like someone picked it up and shook it - the dining table is covered in papers, and although I'm using my studio now, there is still jewelry-making stuff all over the coffee table. At least the plants look healthy.

So WHO came to my messy house today when I wasn't home? Only the whole damned family, and get this-- SIL proceeded to open every closed door "Oh, what's in here?, etc" Fucking GRRRRRRR!!! My hackles are officially up. Here's the funny way I found out about it, too. BIL and SIL were talking about how their 21 month old is a brilliant child and will probably be a veterinarian or a horticulturalist, because she loves flowers, and she must have stopped 4 or 5 times at my house to look at my flowers. This amazed me- because she was only 3 months old the last time I knew of her being at my house. I swallowed my bite of sweet potaters carefully as I pondered the fact that although I'm expected not to walk on their floors in shoes, the entire fucking clan makes free to invade my home and inspect rooms with closed doors when I am in no way prepared to receive them. Well, there you have it.

Saturday I explained to SIL how I spent a lot of time in Arizona last year visiting my dying grandmother. Last night, she brought up how we should have seen how beautiful the Arizona desert was then, everything blooming profusely because of heavy rains that winter. I brushed away a tinge of melancholy as I said "yes, it was extremely beautiful."

Then I'd had enough. I declared in my mind that the Sister in law show was officially over, so I bent the room to my will. She was talking about her tattoo ( a chain around one ankle--how radical!), MIL and FIL nearly pinching a loaf at the thought of tattooed DILs, and I said the endorphin thing was incredible. She said she didn't get the endorphin thing, in her usual trope of one-up-manship, so I embarked on a tale of a biker guy I used to work with who was trashed on booze and who-knew-what-else with a bunch of friends one night and they copied a Budweiser label onto his shoulder and went to the tattoo artist and insisted he tattoo the image exactly as they had rendered it. Sobered up a day or so later, they found they had done the budweiser thing in reverse image, so it looks right in the mirror, but nowhere else. He was a great guy, and fun to work with, though I never knew him very well. But this tale of truck with a rougher class of folk than our genteel family had the effect of horrifying the room.

Now, I'm the first to say I'm not very smart, because if I HAD been smart, I would have ended the story with "and THAT's the guy I got hepatitis C from! Isn't that funny?"

22 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hey sis, we need to think of a way to get my clan near these people. I'm sure the boy could teach the little angel how to wrassel.

Fuckkit said...

Put strategic booby traps around the house. They wont go snooping again.

Twisted Lady said...

Holy Crap!

I am LMAO.... what a great post!

The shoes, the butter, the "it's my vacation..."

hahah...

Barbara Bruederlin said...

It's heartening to know that other people have opportunities missed with snarky comebacks. Still, it's a pity you didn't have the chance to lay into those, shall we say, challenging, house guests.

This may piss you off, but in Canada, we traditionally remove our shoes when we come into a house. But then we get lots of snow and crap. (and we don't poke about in people's closets)

LJ said...

But it's such great MATERIAL. They're awful! It must be some small triumph to get a really GOOD entry out of all this.

My plan, should you be unable to settle for "good material" next visit, should my extreme amusement in reading your account of the visit not be reward enough for enduring these jerks, is to kill them with one of your shoes. Got stilettos?

jimbizzle said...

I hate when people make you take you shoes off in their house. I have a friend who recently started making people take their shoes off. He didn't get new carpet or anything. I haven't been back over there. I refuse.

phlegmfatale said...

Sis- you are SOOOO right. I'm sure the niece hasn't had a booger long enough to make it to her finger (hey, Nicole! They're edible!). I'll tell you what else, four of her couldn't equal one of yours for sheer lung power. Yours take after their aunti, obviously.

fuckkit - yeah, that's a great idea. Hmmm... booby traps... I'll have to watch Home Alone again. I'd love a ton of stinging nettles to fall out of a closet on her. Or, I dunno. Let me think a while, and I'm sure I'll come up with something sufficiently evil.

blog whore - I'm SO glad you've enjoyed this. I was worried that it was such a long rant that it would be boring, but I had to get it out. I'm sure there'll be one more post about them before they go.

barbara - Yeah, but it's perhaps best I didn't say that about the hepatitis - they would forever more believe I actually have it - remember - no sense of irony, especially the BIL and SIL.
I know it's that way in a lot of cold climes - Northern Europe, China - with the shoe removal, and no, that doesn't offend me. Certainly, I would remove shoes if I wore some that would be damaging, like stilettos or something, but these were soft-soled Fluevogs. It's just neurotic and being overly precious, in their case.

lj - thanks so much - I'm glad you enjoyed it - I seriously was so angry I thought this would bore people. Yes, I feel rewarded that you were amused - there is a silver lining!
Did you ever see that guilty pleasure crap movie "Elvira, Mistress of the Dark?" WORTH it! - she kills someone with a stiletto heel - HILARIOUS.

jimbo - I don't blame you - what's his problem - does he have a foot-odor fetish???

LJ said...

Never saw Elvira do that - but she's definately my kind of girl. And "bore people"?? I seriously doubt a person who suggests at the office meeting that goats be purchased to keep the grass cut is going to bore anyone soon.
And PS - California, you realize, does not exist. Yep. It's imaginary. Like Oz.

SJ said...

I'm with you on the shoes. It annoys the shit out of me when people ask me to take my shoes off to enter their house. Oh, and your SIL need to get her thumb out of her arse and join the real world... :)

phlegmfatale said...

lj - Well, thank you honey - I feel better about it. Yeah, California is a land unto itself- maybe that's how they can justify paying half a million for a shack.

ian - thanks for the support. Yeah, she's totally clueless, and I can't believe he puts up with it!

FatQuarterQuiltFarm said...

OOOOH maaaaaan!!!!! my SINcerest sympathies my dear.Some people are such a major waste of flesh, not to mention sucking all of that good Texas air......but going thru your closed cabinets?????? Punishable by death only.I got a flamin box'O cat poo ready to fed -ex...it's the special "In-Law's only" flavor....just let me know.....

Charlie said...

You know, when you stop and think about it for a minute, your whole essay is totally insane. Shoes on or off, butter or falsy butter--what the fuck difference is it going to make in a hundred years???

Irony: like the joggers who inhale four hundred lbs of diesel and gas contaminants cause it's healthy to run. Great leg muscles, no lungs.

People take themselves so seriously I can't believe it--and of course, neither can you. I used to think I was funny, but I concede . . .

Tam said...

When I grow up, I want to rant like that!

(If my family had made free to wander about my house without me home, the authorities would never find the bodies, kinfolk or no. You are a model of restraint!)

Tam

Jerrster said...

most excellent "kicker" "and THAT's the guy I got hepatitis C from! Isn't that funny?" it's great to see a pro at work...it would have been a Kodak moment indeed to have delivered that line.

phlegmfatale said...

Schnoobie - thanks for the commiseration. Yeah, they need to go home and never come back. Yep - send that cat poo toute-de-suite!!!

admiral ps - Yeah, it's nuts - I just don't understand people like that - my family may be kooky - but at least we genuinely love each other and don't play bullshitty games that are insulting to each other. For people with high-class pretentions, the in-laws sure do reek of cheapness. You can count me out.

tam - I'll leave you my wicked wit in my will, k? "the authorities would never find the bodies..." And THAT, my dear, is why I love you like I do - you're sooooo funny!

phlegmfatale said...

jerry - well, the one thing is, though, that they would have gone to their graves actually believing I have hep c - they are ever eager to believe bad things about me and my ilk. I'll rant on about that in the Thursday post. Glad you vicariously enjoyed my meaner urges.

Unknown said...

great stuff..relatives..whether related or not can be such a pain in the ass.remind me to tell you about the mothers day when I cold-cocked my mother.

phlegmfatale said...

dusty - that sounds GREAT! Sounds therapeutic.

Attila the Mom said...

My GOD you have a way with words! I loved every sentence!

phlegmfatale said...

attila - aw shucks hon,you're pretty damned clever yourself, but thanks! :)

Liz said...

Darlin' Phlegmmy,

Put a wad of marbles in the medicine cabinet. Makes a helluva racket falling out when they peek. I have a friend who keeps nothing in the medicine cabinet except marbles. Love it!

phlegmfatale said...

OK - will make a mental note to install a medicine cabinet just for that purpose. *rubbing hands together gleefully*