grrrrrr

So I found out today that my dad made a disparaging comment about me. To my husband. When they went out to eat together earlier this week after John helped him move a bunch of shit. This is the same cockfuck who told me my GUT WAS HANGING OUT and that I needed to do something about it (even though he, not so long ago, weighed about 280 pounds), and laughed as I struggled with his grandson and cockily asked the child's father, "Doesn't it make you appreciate your parents so much now? Don't you wonder how they PUT UP WITH YOUR SHIT?" The same guy who, a few weeks ago, saw his grandson's new haircut and said, "WHO BUTCHERED HIS HAIR?!?", then had the nerve to ask why I got so upset whenever he "said anything to me." The same guy who always asks are we bringing our son when we come visit, NOT because he wants to see his grandchild, but because he "never gets to show us his cool stuff or play his music loud." The same guy who made me eat at my own little table in my own little room the whole time my parents were married, because he COULDN'T STAND HAVING ME AT THE TABLE. I was the quietest, most subdued child you could ever meet. Beleev dat.


So I'm playing with Tristan, in a happy mood, getting him all dressed up to go to dinner with Grampa. John has been complaining ALL day that he smells something odious, and he starts spraying all kinds of Glade and lights a candle. I am like, "I do not smell what you are smelling." And he says, "I just want the house to smell good since your dad always makes a big deal about it not being clean when he comes." And I am like, "What are you talking about? He never says anything!" (Quite the CONTRARY, in fact. He always says that "it's not a big deal, I have a kid to take care of, and it's not like it's a total trash heap, we just have laundry and dishes that need done." Like, verbatim.) To which John replies, "Yeah, not to your face." And I am like. What. The. Fuck. What did he say. Tell me. "No, I shouldn't have said anything."


"No. Did he say something to you? You'd better fucking tell me if he did. What did he say? What?"


"Well, you know that snotty little way he says everything. He was just like, "Ehhh, Tina doesn't like to clean very much, does she? Ehhhh!" ("Eh" in this case is like a short e sound, not the Canajin "ayyyyyy" that we all know and love. Just for clarification's sake. And my dad looks and sounds like Jon Lovitz, if he was the biggest asshole in the world.)


So here's my lesson for today:


1. DON'T TALK SHIT ABOUT YOUR OWN KID. You motherfucking cocksucker. Fuck you.


2. MORE IMPORTANTLY, if you don't want any kids, DON'T FUCKING HAVE THEM. Don't go fucking seventeen year old girls without a condom. Ass.


3. If you are GOING TO TALK SHIT ABOUT YOUR OWN KID, DON'T be talking it to your kid's boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, gay lover, lesbian, or kid.


4. And finally, if someone says something shitty about your spouse to you, and you don't FUCKING DEFEND them, and/or DON'T FUCKING TELL THEM, EVEN IF YOU ARE JUST TRYING TO SAVE THEIR FEELINGS, you are almost as bad as the shit talker.


current mood: fuckyou


current music: Sunny Day Real Estate - "Round"