Who are you?

With all that's going on in the world,US soldiers dying in Iraq, the lives lost in hurricane Katrina, the recent deaths of the elderly in that bus crash in Texas, I should be grateful and counting my blessings. Today,I'm just not feeling it. Read at your own risk.

Fred hangs out at the local food court with the rest of the old geezers in the afternoons. The quality of these retirees must be bad because he's been a big asshole lately. Yesterday, I asked what's for dinner and he gets all bitchy because I didn't ooh and ahh over some piece of crap he found dumpster diving. He denies he does this and that a "friend" gave it to him. Oh yeah all of the so-called friends that surprisingly he's never invited over. Lords only knows the kind of tails he spins when he lives the house. I tell him to quit lying and get over it. He tells me to leave and I do. Because of the weather, I improvised with some vanilla wafer cookies and soy milk for dinner.

This morning, I go over and get my coffee. I don't why I did the following but I did. I tell him that I didn't appreciate the way he treated me and asked what was going on. He proceeds to verbally attack me about what a fuckup I am. The classic line of how I'm doomed to live in a cardboard box eating cat food was thrown at me. Ethel tries to intervened and tell me how I'm causing trouble. WTF. He continues to boast about how "he worked seven days in a week goddammit" and paid for college for B.J. and I. Never let it be said at times receiving anything from Fred and or Ethel doesn't come with some type of string, chain, rope, bungee cord, or duct tape. As far as I'm concerned, I consider it payment for services rendered.

Tell me how many nine year olds do you know that had to spend their weekends screening tenants to rent apartments? How about having to balance a checkbook? Sitting on the sidelines because we "didn't have enough" for me to do anything but somehow your dad didn't go without. Miracously B.J. was able to get extras. I worked during high school and was still involved in activities. Of course getting rides from you also meant that I had to endure the verbal assaults in the car about what a loser I was. Nothing beats crying in the ladies room and then having to put on a brave face to perform at half-time. Meanwhile your buddies kids were druggies , juvenile delinquents, and not destined for the Rhodes Scholar route. How about going with you to the unemployment office to help you with the paperwork. The summers I spent working crappy temp jobs during college because you and Ethel HAD to go back to the motherland so you could build the dreamhouse. The verbal digs would begin the minute I'd pick them up from the airport. Usually in 30 seconds or less. Instead of going on internships, I was stuck being manager of the domicile of the damned. B.J. never had to stop from his path. How about me having to come home from college#1 because Ethel was about to dump your sorry ass and you had no clue how to pay the bills. Although she'll deny it, she did admit in a moment of truth that she regretted not getting out when she did. Or you not telling and giving me the letter so I could reenroll back at college #1 on time?

I have to thank the humanity critic for sharing in a recent post about his dad. It is provident that I prepare myself for this most unlikely Hallmark moment . Whenever Fred is in the hospital he goes on about what a great daughter I am. I totally know it's the drugs. I'd be a fool if I didn't know B.J. is their favorite.

Logically I know nothing that I will ever do will be good enough for them. It's been so hard to change my patterns. Somewhere in my psyche I think they'll change and it's just not going to happen. No matter how much I wish it otherwise to be. I reached a new level of something. When I got back to my own space, tears came out of my eyes. It wasn't the typical girly boo-hoo woe is me put my face in a pillow to silent my cries. I was watching "Oprah" and these long tears were just started flowing out of my eyes. At first I thought, I shouldn't be sad, I'm watching Oprah and I love watching ballroom dancing. But even my body couldn't deny my true feelings of how I felt. Unbelievable. The body has this way of letting you not denying yourself. I don't know how else to explain it. Maybe I just have a crappy poker face.

I really don't want go to spend the afternoon with the church ladies. In true third party fashion, Aunt Imogene calls Ethel to relay the following. If I'm not going to attend the church ladies function, to please let them know so they can find someone else. Oh now they have someone else they want to bring. What a bunch of fucking twisted bitches!!! How about having the tits to call me and be honest Lullabelle? Jesus Christ on a crutch. I guess I don't cut even the church circuit. Goddamn it. I'm going to have Ethel send a check and not show up. Whatever. It's not like they can't afford it either. It's no big secret that since Imogene and Bubba lived like cheapskates that they have some major cash. When they had the truck stop greasy spoon and bar in the boonies, they hid money in the sewer pipes so Uncle Sam wouldn't know about the positive cash flow. It so annoying that the skinflint sisters as well as their cocky brother have continued the tradition. I'll never understand why I have such a cesspool of relatives that I have to interact with. Calgon is not strong enough to take them away.

As much as I love Chicago, the city and area itself, I need to pick up stakes and get the fuck out of my life. I've really been struggling and praying on this.