..But Made for a Psychopath

If there is one beauty to Certain Party and her revisionist history it is this: it can be about an event ten years gone by now, or it can be about something that happened just this past weekend.

Manson et al came up here for Christmas. I’d like to think that Certain Party was gracious enough to drive up here with the clan for the holiday so that myself and Trash might not be stuck on our own for the festivities (which, actually, we wouldn’t have been, as Trash II had invited Trash to his house for the day, and then myself when Trash told him he couldn’t leave his eldest and only sister alone for the holiday), but no, Certain Party only made the trip as it fit her own agenda. This, of course, is not a surprise to anyone who has been reading here for more than five minutes.

Oh wait. WAIT. Before I even dare to tread on the shoes of Certain Party and their idea of ‘Facts–How I Can Make Them Up to Suit My Own Needs’ let me address THIS. You all remember how Ma got hijacked Down Souf when Certain Party’s Parental Unit became ever sicker, yes?? She had got the cancer and been battling it for years and our Ma was down there helping them til the inevitable sad end. All very nice and I’m sure you’ll agree that any sane person would be eternally grateful for an ex-mother-in-law who was kind and gracious enough to do such a deed.

No. Not quite. First of all, Certain Party is nowhere NEAR sane. Ma is quite prone to bouts of bronchitis. It’s a known fact that, even the non-smokers in her family (of which Ma is one, having never partaken of a cigarette save once when she was 12 and Nana, subsequently, made her eat it or something) are a bunch of weak-lunged bastards. Every winter, without fail, Ma comes down with a hideous cough and the Phlegm Circus comes to town. And a fever sometimes, too, for added fun. The only thing that can stave this off is a trip to Ye Olde Doctor and a Z-pack. There is no way around this. So. There was Ma last December, in the throes of yet another Bronchitial Malfunction. Certain Party’s Parental Unit, meanwhile, was in and out of the hospital with the doctors giving her ever-worsening news every day. Certain Party went off on anyone within a five-mile radius who Dared to Get Sick. Her reasoning being ‘If my Parental Unit catches your cold/flu/hangnail she could die because she has no resistance!! If something happens it will be YOUR fault!!’

(Even the kids)

And yet. When Ma came down with the bronchitis Certain Party accused her of trying to steal sympathy for her Parental Unit and lambasted her for daring to go to a doctor. Now this is not a shocking statement when one knows Certain Party–in fact one would rather be surprised if she DIDN’T say something to this effect. This, though, isn’t the corker, my dears. Not in the least. When Certain Party mentioned Ma and her sympathy stealing ways to her Parental Unit they didn’t say ‘Och, well she can’t help being sick. And she’s driving me from doctor to doctor, hospital to hospital etc. And people DO get sick’. No. The Parental Unit agreed that yes, Ma was sympathy stealing. Whats more, it was in very poor taste for Ma to go to the doctor while she was busy dying.

I. ASK. YOU.

Have I missed a meeting here?? Or is their family completely and utterly psychopathic??

Anyway. Revisionist history.

Certain Party and I are in the car and driving to the shops. At 3 bloody AM. Because she HAD to find an open fast food restaurant and no one else would drive with her. And she could not POSSIBLY do what most other adults would do–to wit: go by her bloody self. I was using this as an opportunity to fetch something for Manson from the store, because Certain Party REFUSES to allow Manson the luxury of getting ANYTHING from the shops as far as her car goes–even if she’s going right by the place. No. They are divorced now and she owes him nothing!! One can’t argue that ‘Hey, you sort of forced him to come up here even though he was broke and really, what’s the harm in dropping by the 7-11 seeing as you’re going to a shop RIGHT NEXT DOOR TO IT??’ No. This logic, nay, common decency even, is beyind Certain Party’s grasp. No matter how many times I’ve tried to argue it. Even if I’m fetching something for ME there will be eyes rolled if I happen to get Manson a coffee while I’m in there. God. You know what?? She’s such a fucking twat.
 
ANYWAY. Certain Party has been itching to tell me a Big Secret. It’s not really a Big Secret considering I’ve known about it since late June. And it really isn’t a Big Secret to anyone else because she’s been dropping subtle hints about it since god was a boy. And by ’subtle hints’ I mean as subtle as Tammy Faye Baker’s makeup in the 80s. And 90s, for that matter. EVERYONE KNOWS. We are pretending we DON’T know, though, because the only reason she’s bandying this little secret about is that she hopes to tear apart the family with it.

Par Exampluh: ‘Well I don’t know, Babs. I know some things and if I were to tell?? It would rip the family apart and change the dynamics entirely. If I ever told….well, none of y’all would be the same again’

We have all agreed, however, that A) we don’t care what the secret is and B ) we refuse to get sucked in to her Drama Fest. So we pretend as if if this secret doesn’t exist. And once it’s all out that we DO know, we will Not Care. Which pisses her off even MORE.

So. Me and her in the car. She drops a hint. I say nothing. She drops another hint. I mention that we ought to go to this store. She drops an even bigger and better hint. A hint that, frankly, a person with the IQ of a bran muffin could decipher. I still say nothing, save for mentioning the fact that I have cramps. Finally after dawdling and beating around the bush, she tells me the Big Secret in it’s entirety. The Big Secret which I’ve known all along. Let me mention here that it was all I could do to hold my tongue–I wanted to punch her in the fucking face. I wanted to rip her to fucking shreds verbally–but I remembered the Plan of Action Familial. Say nothing–give her nothing. I sat there and wittered on about the next best shop that might be opened while she continued to talk about the Big Secret hoping to get a rise out of me. Didn’t work. I barely acknowleged it. And yet when she got back home she took Manson aside and said ‘Uh oh. Babs is going to start talking shit now. Be warned’

{Manson has known the Big Secret too, but only had it confirmed the night previous, when Certain Party felt the need to confess it to her 13 year old when she thought everyone was asleep. And he wasn’t}

They get back Down Souf and Certain Party is talking to Ma about the Big Secret–but not SAYING what the Big Secret is (yet, in the car ride confessional, Certain Party told me that Ma already knew and I was the only one in the dark. And Ma does know, but was playing the hand as I was–saying NOTHING. Ma knew on her own, NOT because of Certain Party telling her) just that it would tear the family to bits. And, Certain Party informs her that, while she was up here, I pumped her for information during that car ride. And she was forced to tell. And that we’ve been bumping heads ever since.

‘You know, me and Babs aren’t as close as we once were. I don’t know why that is’

Oh, golly. I don’t know why either. Maybe it’s because you’re a raging fucking psychopath?? And a lunatic?? And you keep track of everything from how much food my mother eats to her toilet paper usage while she’s down there helping your stupid, sorry ass out??

I have not laughed so hard in ages.