Austin's Lesbo BBQ

Well, not really. BUT...how different life would be if the woman that married my father five years ago bore ANY resemblance to the zany movie staring Dan Aykroyd and that chick from Buffy...***if only***

Instead, I'm lucky enough to spend most major holidays with a woman who shares more "pleasant genes" with Kathy Bates' Annie Wilkes than any of Kim Basinger's driveling characters....yessss, even when Kim shares the screen with a Baldwin.

So, all possible psychosis aside, my step-mother would still make an interesting subject to many a junior psychologist. Every time I'm around her for more than a day or so, I even find myself trying to take a shot at figuring out her freakin' hang ups. Neglected childhood...or maybe...too spoiled? Incomplete sense of self? Well, whatever it actually is, I'm totally okay with it...up until it manifests into a ball of beige-tinted neurosis and hurls itself towards my head.

Yeah.

Everything was actually going quite well today...I've spent the past 30 hours stuffing my face with either food, caffeine, or alcohol...I try to sedate/alter my mind as much as possible when I'm at home (for so many reasons that are beyond the explaining capabilities of this post)...and, things have been good.

We opened presents...a day early, due to the limitations of our piece-meal family members' presences...and then ate more food...and drank more booze...and engaged in conversations chocked full of feigned jolly-ness and plans for the next few days...including Christmas church.

I'll shove in a very brief background here: I stopped going to church when I was just about 16 years old. Like, seriously put my foot down about it and took my beatings for doing so. I haven't really turned back since. I don't have a giant ideological problem with the Catholic Church, it's more with my immediate family and the suburban, dogmatic mental wasteland. Also, the church is crowded, hot and full of people who don't ever go to church (which I would be a part of, if I were to attend)...it brings on panic attacks and I'd rather avoid it. Let's just stop there.

So, on my father's end, neither one of us was surprised by our typical Christmas time exchange:

Dad: "Are you going to join us for midnight mass?"
Me: "No."
Dad: *sigh* "Okay then."

End.

I made my way upstairs, cocktail in hand, to work on the Thomas Kincade landscape puzzle my dad and I started on last night. It's been a dilly of a puzzle, I tells ya. My brother and his fiancé nap. My stepbrother jams out to bad pop music (e.g. Nickleback...ugh). Dad and Step-mother tend to messing with newly acquired kitchen appliances.

About and hour later, my Baily's and vodka concoction is actually starting to make the puzzle come together...and I start to hear various sounds that signal the departure for mass. I just calmly ignore them, knowing quite well that my dad and I had our traditional exchange earlier...

Still, it's hard to ignore my step-mother's shrill, whiney voice..."Joey!* Put your shoes on! We need to leave!!!! Frank!!!!!!! We need to go noooooooooowwwww...if we don't leave now, we won't find parking and we'll miss the Madrigals!"

But, still, I ignored her and focused on completing the Kincaid masterpiece. A few more minutes tick by and I hear my step-mother beckon again, this time, to me directly. First, I was told to "hurry up and put on my shoes!" Apparently, she couldn't sense, from downstairs, that I already had my pajamas on and there would be no putting on of the shoes for me this evening.

I politely informed her that I was not to be joining them at church and that I'd already told my dad this. What happened next was nothing less than plain weird.

My step-mother began to command me to "put my shoes on and get into the car RIGHT NOW!" I believe it's been at least ten years since anyone's taken that tone of voice with me. I might as well have been told to eat all my vegetables and be in bed by 8 o'clock...or else all my pony and lollypop privileges would be revoked for the remainder of the month.

I didn't know how to react to her, so I just kind of repeated my statement and said that I really didn't want to argue with her, but that I wasn't going to go to church. It's just that simple. I told her that I'm pretty sure that I didn't EVER to church with them and that tonight wasn't any different.

This point, apparently, served as the starting gun for a string of manipulative insults that...I figure....were supposed to guilt me into appeasing her. First, I was told that I should really think about who was taking care of me in this world (uummm...will I get an extra college credit in Philosophy if I answer this question in full?)...then I was told that my behavior was a disgrace to the family...and, finally, the last kick in the gut was being told that I should "really stop trying to make excuses for my life."

Seriously? That's a pretty low hit just to make yourself look good with your "complete family" at church. I know most devote catholics are pretty busy with the gluttony this month, but I betcha they could find some room from some envy...IF we prayed hard enough.

Halfway through her tirade, I stopped talking. I figured that if she really wanted to take it to the next step, that she's have the moxie to come up the stairs and look me in the face while saying these things. Of course, she didn't....church awaited The Family.

They went and I stayed. Even though I'm aware of my step-mother's irrational use of words to get what she wants, it still was very insulting. And, for some reason, the kicker here is that she has no concept of being hurtful. None. Absolutely nothing. I'm pretty sure I've never heard an apology or an admittance of being wrong ever come out of this woman's mouth.

I'd like to just drop what went on between us tonight. She probably won't remember it...mostly because she talks like that everyday to her husband and sons...and, generally, I've been exempt from it due to being female and scarcely found 'round these parts. But, it's going to be something that will stick with me for a while.

And, you know...in my OWN life, I try not to surround myself with people that pull that shit. But, as they say, you can't pick your family...or something like that. And, of course, I'm far from perfect, and I'm sure there's plenty of fuel on that end as well....

To try to end on a good note, Merry Christmas and stuff to everyone. Good luck with the family and hopefully it is an enjoyable time!!







*the names have been changed to protect the innocent...and, myself of course, if the innocent should ever read this page.