Wow - that was an interesting Christmas!
I missed you guys ! ( Not really that much as I am a lazy blogger atm)
I have just busted into the loungeroom laden with shopping bags from the end of year sales. I *heart* fashion that is 50% off* and I have been known to bomb heaps of cash at my favorite stores all the while screaming and at times busting out a move to the "ouns ouns ouns'" music that spews from those LOUD speakers. I mean really - all I need is a vodka tonic in one hand and ciggy in the other - and I would be at a nightclub. Omg.. I just realised that I'm starting to sound old....and like my Mother. The fake one.
* Sometimes you might even score the ultra-luxe 70% off but that is a discount usually reserved for all manners of exceptionally fugged out really random shit that you never wear anyway. Personal purchases; beanies and a super- ugly handbag and petite bikini's that don't really flatter as they struggle to cover my ass, it's like trying to squeeze a hippo into a hammock.
It's the first time I've gone to a Xmas sale but definitely not the last !
Holy Curumba - it was credit card heaven and 'cher chink cher chink' is still ringing in my ears. I have this glazed 'ketamine state of expression' that's rather permanent - ahh retail bliss.
The BF and I didn't buy presents to put under the tree ( which as yuppies we don't actually own) Yes, initially I worried was unromantic and I would go straight to "he's just not that into you" hell, but it totally worked out! We had loads of cash to spend as we enjoyed the manic phase of my depression and did all the shopping in two hours flat. But somehow, he spent less on me ( but ladies this will be rectified - it was only by 34.00 but that is a pair of black pinstripe knee length knickerbockers - bf this is a hint *)
Ok! Christmas day was marvelous. Best Christmas Ever.
I almost had my sister 99.9% convinced that my dad had a hawk tattoo ( he goes for a football team called the Hawks) on his penis with the wingspan etched around the curves of his balls - but dad was all gay and wouldn't play along. So then we made up stuff about my little brother watching my dog masturbate with his lipstick thingy on the carpet ( wierd but true) and Mum said we were mean bitches - and I'm like...and then ?
But that should illustrate how we all feel very comfortable with each other - I believe the masses call it 'weird'.We also discovered (very reluctantly) when The Stepmother gets a little plush on the Pimm's she gets more relaxed, mildly pleasant and very amorous ( that was Dad's unwelcome contribution.) Where the fuck is that turkey !
Now Stepmother is a heavy set woman with huge hooters - I won't mince words- plus it's well known she is the not the sharpest tool in the shed. But she is still family and this was Xmas. Anyway (as I was blogging) it was the tragic fate of my sister to walk into my parent's bedroom whilst they were getting jiggy in a 69 position. I mean, this is so NOT cool. Dad says she should've knocked - I think she wishes that as well in hindsight Dad ;)
I have committed to memory to always knock and yahoo at least six minutes before even entering my parents bedroom. I normally like to bring my own bagpipes and play them to herald my approach, a novel way to prevent this "visualis annus lickus horribilus interuptus grossus."My sister swears she can still hears mum's screams at night - just like Clarice did.
I won't draw a picture (as I can't be bothered) but you all have parents and we all know that it would be majorly - * searches for something articulate - meh - it's fucking disgusting !
I like to think my Dad only puts his hands down his pants when he is sprawled on the couch watching football and that is pleasure enough. The thought of my mother attached to his face like some 'sexual sea anemone' species is unshakable at best. My stepmother is short, dumpy creature with a mean little face and as I have said huge breasts. I call her "The Suburban Ewok" so that should paint a nice picture - it would be funnier if I could show you a photo but then I would be really pushing my luck with my family ( not that they're not actually used to this by now)
So anyway.. I will let you know it was my Mum was on top ( I won't be doing a to be continued post on this and I know you all wanted to know..lol ) and yeah it was not her best angle if you know what I mean.
I mean.. it was totally weird in a "Man, she has a very hairy asshole kinda way".Of course I am joking..I have no idea about the status of her asshole. Seriously.
I'm so dead if she ever reads this blog. I am going straight to hell.
So back to the Xmas dinner where my parents ( one real dad - one fake mum) try to mention it AGAIN in front of 'outsiders' !
Dad explains to our guests (including a laughing BF) how it's natural for a man to want to kiss his wives 'lovehole'. (I wish I was joking)
This is only the start of Christmas dinner (you know the part where everyone is starting to feel pissy and something is burning on the stove but no one knows yet) My blessed dad went to fetch a box from the bedroom that read"Nights of passion'. He announced proudly this box of miracles contained a mask , a feather and some oils for your privates (wtf !) He then began to 'hard-sell' my boyfriend on the merits of having a passionfruit flavored pussy. At this stage I wanted to be doing anything else but choking on my pork crackle ( which was burnt and ruined I might add because I am a shithead daughter and preferred to play GTA instead of watch the pork) Dad waved away my attempts to change the topic, after all he explained - I should get a box of my own as my Stepmother really , really ( argh) likes it. He passes the box of heaven over the dinner (!) but seeing I didn't have a pair of surgical gloves at my disposal, I politely declined closer inspection.
However, I now have this horrible picture seared into my brain; my Stepmother shrieking and looking dumb and blind with the mask on and for some reason she has all this chocolate body paint ( which I found in the fridge on the same day mind you - AND it was used !!) smothered over her HUGE puppies and my father is tickling her with a feather (somewhere) so she is sort of doing some nude wrestling on the waterbed and I hear a lot of creaking wood. Of course I picture dad's crazy face smeared with chocolate like some kind of mature oompa loompa and all I see is his white false teeth - it's really messed - I warned you of that from the start.
Then all of a sudden he tickles her (somewhere) a touch overboard and because my Mum is a moody cunt she then starts going "Oowaa ! Owaaa ! " (Dad would be too drunk to notice and can't see her grimaces because he has all that shit on his face ) so she slaps him repeatedly with her flabby tuckshop mum arms whilst calling him a drunken dickhead. As always my dad just gives up and starts smoking eighty smokes. Ugh I just pictured a my father's flacid penis, what is wrong with me !!!
I think I just spewed on myself and tore out my eyeballs.
The stepmother would proceed to go shower-down (nightmare) and as my dad is super cool and doesn't 'do pussy shit like romance' he would light up one of those secret 'marujuana ciggarettes' that we always find next to the 'secret porno'. Everyone knows about that shit Dad - even my friends cos we used to watch them when I was thirteen. It's hardly porn, it's soft porn and you should really get into 'Dirty Debutantes' I mean both Sis and I have left school now - so I think this means it is ok to start jerking the gherkin over any lady under fourty. I mean, I won't judge you. I make my Dad sound like a sex freak and I am trying to tell myself this is not possible - my mother uses words like 'condong' and 'wee-wee' and they have no idea what anal sex is. DO NOT EMAIL ME SISTER - let me have my beliefs ;)
I hope this is not some lame pyscho-babble for ' I want to make sweet love to my fat Mum' as that's just a terrible thought and anyone who thinks that is totally dumb. Dumb like the present someone gave me from their corporate hamper - Yes I do mean those Taiwanese peanuts or those inferior chocolates that taste like oil and dirt with some poo flakes on top.
Not that I know what poo flakes taste like.
New paragraph please...
AND the stepbrother ( of incest loving fame) failed to send a present (he doesn't associate with our family as he is ashamed of us and trying to pretend he is not a tool most of the time) for me ! I know - like that is totally bad of me to want a present from the child toucher , it was just that everyone got one but me. ( Sooky La La ) Shortly after the dinner from hell, the phonecalls started. I fucking hate talking to random relatives about shit and I'm sure they feel the same.
That is why they choose to live so far away from our dysfunction. I'm not talking about the cool family members - ( the aunty that smokes weed and the nana that gives you fifty bucks) - I mean the ones you wave at the phone going "No No No" but your mum gives you a Chinese burn unless you will talk to retarded Uncle Charlie. It's ok for everyone else as they are toasted on the Xmas punch so they just talk total shit - but I was not allowed to drink so I had to endure such stimulus as this without any mind altering substance ;
Grandma:Hello love, it's been about six years since we spoke - goodness how are you!
Me: Really good ! I am actually - [ cut off by the sound of dribbling noises and nattering]
Grandma - I'm making a boiled steak.
Me: Oh (me thinking that has to be the most disgusting thing ever to eat on Xmas day)
That sounds deeelightful. Everything is going well I have a great job *insert old job here* and we are having a great day, wish you were here. (we both know this is a lie and long awkward silence ensues in which she has a conversation with the boiled steak)
Grandma- I like bananas.
[ At this point I am covering the mouthpiece and trying to pass off the phone to anyone - even the dog while do. I mean this phonecall is seriously four minutes of my life I am never gonna see again. Of course no one else wants to speak to Grandma who-never-sends-money and is manic about her car with the stupid little cat toy with one eye which sits in the back seat. Everyone in the family is waving me away as I try and offload Gran. Suddenly everyone is helping Mum in the kitchen or studing the tablecloth for ancient codes of past awkwardness. As soon as I hang up, the hallejah hotline rings again. I hate answering the phone when I don't know who is calling.
Maybe it will be the good Nana! I answer the phone with a jovial aussie twang
Stepbrother: " Merry Christmas"
[I pictured him roasting like a pig over the spit and the apple up his bum and I'm carving into his flesh , laughing like the loony I am]
Me: 'What ? '
Repeat six times for utter frustration. He is sooo easy to get flustered.
Me:I hope your kids are having fun ( even though I never see them and they have no idea about our family) How old must they be? "*insert wrong name here must be about five now?"
Him: It's ***** actually * tight laugh* She is three now.
Me: I'll just put you onto Dad
As I pass the phone I make sure he hears me say "Thanks for the present" in the most mocking tone ever and everyone laughs in spite of themselves and I feel like The Evil Christmas Sibling Rivalry Champion of The World. Of course he had a cry to Dad about it like a proper nancy but as usual dad was too drunk to care. The Stepbrother gives shit presents anyway and everyone gave me half of the presents he gave them. I ended up getting the biggest present ( even though it was the biggest shit present then) . So, what I am basically saying is that I WIN!
It was awesome that he actually got all depressed about my comment and it was the best thing that he could've got me. He was trying to validate to my younger sister why he didn't send me a present (it's cos I don't send him gifts of course)
I mean I am writing a book about the ungrateful son of a bitch (lol) and he is going to be totally famous and even his wife and little daughter will be so interested in him - all over again.
But in the spirit of Xmas I am going to give him a little present. I hate to disappoint.
In fact I am blogging the letter of thought I am going to send him.
After all - it's the thought that counts and I have plenty spare for him.
I'm not going to buy him a present if I'm not ready to- I'm not at the forgiveness stage yet, maybe something to do with the fact that I was never acknowledged as being allowed to admit that what he did to me even happened ! In summary ; I'm not sending him a fucking present and playing happy families- just like he can't give me the four years of my childhood back. End rant.
I could feel myself starting to get into that "fuck the world funk" and today is a good day and so was Christmas.
I spent soooo much time with my good family - it was the highlight ! ( I know that's annoying when people do that 'sooo" thing but it was eight hours that I spent and that my friend is a record for our families tolerance for each other) Yes, I'm overjoyed that Dad wasn't too drunk and Mum wasn't too dysfunctionally hormonal that everyone managed some quality time. It was so precious and wonderful - I have missed six xmases so it really was like all my Christmases had come at once. I know I sound like a Gaylord - but I'm happy anyway.
It's funny how you can forget about memories of growing up so when you hear a story it's even better now - like the memory is all glitter and photo frame moments forever then. I found out that my sister got Sea Monkeys and Dad also brought a sheep home from the pub and it ate all the underpants off the line. I got hugged and kissed a lot and I felt really special. I even got a beautiful necklace that I know was expensive as everyone went really quiet when BF put it around my neck. *Must not wear in shower (sorry I just wrote aloud)
It's kind of odd listening to my family recount experiences as a family when I know that I should've been in those memories too..It's almost like we have contrasting mental snapshots of our shared child
hoods. In fact -I bet we could line up our ' stills of our subconscious' side by side and play spot the difference - I would find white polka dots instead of black polka dots on the doggie's bow tie..
But I let it go.. Because it's Christmas. I try to not focus on what I have missed out on in the past . Instead I will always try to enjoy what I know that I have saved for the future. I try to be bright and I try to be brave, for us all.
I guess it's the one day you can catch yourself in a moment where you are just smiling and thinkingthat "It all ain't bad , if only for today?"
Then your Mum has a major fucking meltdown over the crackling that is now totally black and the dog 'drops his guts' under the diner table and you are freshly reminded that life is not meant to be Merry.
Life is real and families are ugly too. I guess a bit of escape is what we all need.
I had the best time ever though and wouldn't trade a minute !
I hope you enjoyed your day - I bet you feel better about it now reading about mine !
One last thing - I really think we should lose those bon-bon cracker hats.
Note to Stepmother; Just because I don't want to wear one doesn't mean I have rabies and I am a cold hearted cum-rag.
I start experiencing some serious paper hat anxiety around mid July.
Ok I think that just about offends everyone - including Ewoks.
My thoughts to all regarding the Natural Disaster, a very sad and somber time and my prayers are with you all.