Good morning my kindred. I hope all of you had a wonderful weekend, and that the weather cooperated wherever you are. It was absolutely beautiful here, and Pissy did get out of the house for a while, but alas…I still haven’t gotten on the scoot yet this summer. Yeah, I know! What the hell is up with that, right? What’s he waiting for…a freaking invitation? ((sigh)) I should’ve bought my own ride when I had the opportunity. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, but I always end up with some clown who has a Harley, but just wants to admire it sitting in the garage. Hello! I say lets start that bad boy up and take it out to get dirty. Yee-Haw!
I went in town to do lunch with the family Saturday. Of course we had to go to the China Buffet again. I swear my sister is addicted to the MSG in all that shit, because it’s the only place she EVER chooses to go, and I’m burnt on it!. I ate one plate and was pretty much done. This is huge, because I seldom pass up dessert. The fact that I got to see two of my sisters, my brother, his wife, my niece and her husband, was a treat though. We’d all gotten together to dine with my older cousin who came in from Florida for a month to spend time with family. I was surprised she still had a smile on her face after spending the first week here with my sister. Now don’t get me wrong, I love my sister. It’s just that she isn’t exactly the bearer of good tidings and has the ability to suck happy right out of you after a mere fifteen minutes in her presence. I know, I’ve timed it! Just kidding…I mean about the timing. No, she really is a huge bitch!
You know, I have to tell ya, it’s difficult to embarrass me. I think by now most of you know me well enough by reading my blog to see that the odds of making me blush or recoil in humiliation are not good. It hasn’t happened very often in my life and takes a pretty powerful presence to pull that one off. That being said I have three words for you: Lunch. Waiter. Sister. To be more specific: We were finishing up lunch, the waiter came to our table, and my sister opened her huge, gaping trap…Again!
Waiter: “Excuse me, are you finished with that? Would you like me to clear these plates out of your way?” He asks, motioning to the dirty dishes with a splattering of sauce that sat on the table between my sister and I, who were seated across from each other on one end.
Sister: “What! Are you running out of plates in the back and need to wash these so you have some?” She asks sarcastically, and loud enough her voice travels.
Our entire table gasps. My brother says my sisters name, emphasizing it to let her know he’s not pleased. My other sister, a wonderful Christian woman who we joke wears rose-colored glasses, recoils in embarrassment. I, feeling the need to run to the poor mans rescue as he is obviously uncomfortable by the remark, thank him, tell him yes we’re finished, and as he walks away narrow my eyes on my sister.
Me: “What is wrong with you? Good grief he was only trying to do his job!”
Sister: “What?” she asks me sarcastically, acting as though she has a right to be pissed about something, and can’t believe we all find her behavior inappropriate. “The waitress was just here, so why did he need to come back so soon? And besides, this happened the last time we were here. They ran out of plates in the back and had to go around picking them up so they could have more.” She sneered.
Sister: “So…they should have more plates!”
Now, had it not been for the fact that when my sister is on a snotty roll that her voice gets louder with each sarcastic word that drips from her mouth, I probably would’ve reciprocated hers by asking why she feels the need to punish herself and the rest of us by dragging us there every damn time we meet for lunch when she’s obviously so unhappy with the service. However, she does get incredibly loud, people in the immediate vicinity were looking in our direction, I can only imagine the entire restaurant could hear and thought our table rude, and when this occurs the only thing to do to is well, …nothing at all. At best you can only change the subject, hope she lets the other go, and move on without a further scene. This is what we all did.
My therapist referred to her as a Toxic Personality, which if any of you is familiar with that coined phrase and know what it means, will understand what we all deal with. In fact, I wrote a post titled the same sometime back, and it took me two days to include everything I had to say on the subject. She, on the other hand, has no clue she’s sick, just refers to herself as being a bitch, and acts as if that excuses any and all behavior on her part. Oh, you know her and I have had many discussions on this, and none have been pleasant. The reason being that she ‘lops’ me in that category too. OH NO YOU DON’T!
Hey, I’m the first person to admit that I’m a big Bitch, but her definition and mine are drastically different. I see it as being a woman who stands up for herself and stays steadfast at trying to be her own person. She, on the other hand, thinks all she has to say is that she admits she’s a bitch and that entitles her to treat any and everyone like shit, excuses her for gossiping about and judging others lives, looking at the glass half-empty 24/7, and constantly being a fly in the ointment when she’s with us. I guess I don’t have to tell you how much I hate that, do I?
True Story: Quite a few years back I had gone into the local grocery in the city where I lived to pick up a few things. I happened to be standing in the produce department which was located right near the entrance/exit doors, when I saw a young employee come through them, almost breathless like she was in a hurry. She gave me a quick smile as she passed behind me on her way to an adjacent door that I knew led to the bathrooms and employee breakroom. Before she could reach them, however, she was stopped by a manager that had been standing nearby and proceeded to get her ass chewed right in front of me and another woman that was picking through produce. From what I was able to gather from their conversation, she was new, was told not to wear shorts to work, had them on, he was pissed, and told her to go home and change. Now honestly, I didn’t see anything wrong with the way she was dressed. The shorts weren’t tight and they nearly reached her knees, but apparently this was a no-no and he used it as an opportunity to throw his weight around, make it clear who held a superior position, and just bully the hell out of her for no other reason than that he could. She was obviously embarrassed, her bottom lip quivered as she apologized to him, and tears began to fill her eyes as she turned to go home and change clothes. He stood there smug–like he had no clue he’d done anything wrong–and upon seeing me looking in his direction proceeded to approach me and ask if I needed help with anything. Yep, I certainly did! I was pissed! I told him in no uncertain terms that his behavior towards her in front of customers was the most unprofessional thing I thought I’d ever seen, I was embarrassed at having had to witness it, it made me completely uncomfortable, and he should be incredibly ashamed for abusing his power like that. The woman near me tried to stifle a laugh, the managers jaw dropped and he quickly apologized. I then told him that you don’t get productivity out of an employee by bullying, you get it by obtaining their respect, and perhaps he shouldn’t hold the position he did. I then told him that he should be apologizing to the employee and not me. I don’t like that shit! It is never acceptable to treat people like crap just because you can. NEVER!
So other than that little upset, lunch went without a hitch, and after I did go to my sisters house to spend an additional hour with my cousin. Fortunately, my sister doesn’t try to bully me the way she used to, so I fared all right till the hubby picked me up. The weather was beautiful as we were driving home so I asked what his plans were and he told me he intended to mow the lawn. Why not? Isn’t that the excuse he uses every weekend to get out of taking me anywhere. Whatever!
Had a little happy-time with my darling, little, hairy babies Saturday afternoon, which nearly turned out to be fatal for them. I decided since the weather was nice I would take them all out into the yard for a while and let them experience the fresh air, grass, and some sunshine for the first time. I loaded all ten of them into an empty, milk crate we had sitting on the back porch and carried them out to the patio set. They didn’t know what to make of the grass at first, were tippy-toeing around, and absolutely howling like they were scared out of their minds. They adjusted quickly though, and before long my eyes were darting in every direction trying to keep track of them, lest one found a bush and got lost on me. Then they appeared. These swooping black monsters in the sky. Now I see these things all the time. Usually just a few, and they’re normally hovering above our woods right behind the house. This time they were right above me, and there were like seven of them! Holy shit! I felt I was in a remake of “The Birds”. Well, it didn’t take me but an instant to figure out what they’d set their sights on. MY BABIES! So here I am hurling myself from the patio chair, grabbing the light sheet I’d had draped over my legs that I’d placed there because my knees had begun turning pink earlier, and am running around in circles waving this damn thing around in the air with one arm trying to shoo them away and snatching running babies with the other and throwing them back in the milk crate one at a time. I’m sure the little critters were more scared of me than the lurking danger in the sky. Just like I’m pretty positive those black bastards were hovering above me laughing through their beaks, and telling one another “Wait till that fat bitch trips and then just swoop down and take the whole damn basket.” I got every last one of them to safety, though I admit it was touch and go for a moment. I came inside after and asked my husband what the hell those things were anyway. I mean, I know I’ve been here for years, but if something doesn’t pertain to me I don’t care enough to ask. He told me they were turkey vultures. Whatever the fuck that is! I asked him what the hell they were doing hovering above me like that in a pact. He told me matter-of-fact that he suspected they were looking for lunch. Smart ass! Well, now I’m terrified to let the chihuahua out by himself for fear they’re going to mistake him for a rat and carry him off. This should be a great summer. The chihuahua is the sneaky-pee’r and the one that needs to be outside the most. ((groan)) I did learn one thing from watching them though. I realized my sister isn’t so much a bitch as she is a turkey vulture.
Yesterday blew the big wienie and ain’t even worth getting into. Did nothing, went no where, and watched my husband hold down the couch most of the day for fear it would grow legs and walk away if he didn’t. And how was your weekend?