I Don’t Like Some People

my disabled brother is seriously acrophobic.  one time we were at the science center and on the second floor, where all the railings are made of glass.  he could only walk in the very center, and only pretty much doubled over.  Look at the T-rex, i said, pointing to the 2 story t rex model that you could see from the second floor.  he looked over, then proceeded to get down on his elbows and knees and crawl army style towards the clear railing to see the dinosaur.  this was really pathetic.

my dad wanted my brother to get over his fear of heights by having him go up on a ladder in the house to change the smoke detector batteries.  come here he said to my brother.  my brother got two rungs up and then said he had to go to the bathroom.  he stayed in the bathroom so long that it was time to go to bed, and he got out of having to go on the ladder.

the next night dad had my brother get on the ladder.  bathroom he said again.  bro got down and went to the toilet.  dad said ok, waited 3 minutes and then decided to go after him.   when he went in the bathroom, he didn’t see any signs of bro.

but on closer inspection the shower curtain was pulled completely shut.  my dad opened the curtain and found bro in there, sitting and trying not to be found.

i thought it was really sad, but dad made him do the smoke detectors anyway.

all these acquaintances of mine are into using their ovaries.  i can appreciate people wanting to do that if they want to.  what frightens me is seeing other petite sized females going to full term.  one friend due in november said to me –  listen – you are a realist so i am just going to tell you – it’s as bad as you think it is.  send me a picture, i said.  so i can know what it would be like if it happened to me.  no way jose! she said. no pictures.  eh, fine i said.  then another rotund friend decided to post her 38th week photo on fb.  omg – i took one look at it, then another, then another – getting more freaked out the whole time.  i mean you could tell that she was dressed in large clothing… sweat pants, a very wide t shirt.  but let me tell you that t shirt was stretched! to fit around her midsection.  she was looking ROUGH, and it made me think of women as breeding livestock.  ICK.  i had bad dreams that night.

one night i was going on vacation and i was feeling really really sick.  my stomach felt like it was in knots.  i wanted to fart. i wanted to barf.  as we were driving in the car i said 2 bub… am i pregnant?  I feel horrible, maybe this is what its like to be pregnant!  and bub said are you sure this doesn’t have anything to do with .. ingestion of dairy?

me: what?! no, no i didn’t!

bub:  well, are you sure??

i thought a moment.

me:  well, i only had 2 pieces of pizza, a latte, and a cheeseburger…. from what i can remember.

bub:  … (snickered, pauses) i think you might be pregnant ….. with gas.

so, once a year the relatives all come over from the far side of the world.  they just can’t stay away, because they live to make my life miserable.

this time the MIL is retired.  she retired last year and apparently now she is completely obsessed with forcing every family member to eat gruel because as she puts it – “it cures cancer” .  when i first met bub, he said the words to me “i wish we never had to eat”  and i smacked him across the face and told him never to speak such blasphemy (i eat to live).  but for the 2 weeks she was here – i prayed every night that i would not get hungry while i was in the house with her.

morning:  everyone at the table in the dining room eating pink/purple thin gruel with dried scallops.  me (sulking in the corner of the kitchen trying to shove a piece of apple strudel toast down my throat as fast as i can before someone notices me chewing or smells the strudel on my breath.

when in the history of me have i actually bolted food out of fear/intimidation.  its a really sad day, i would say its one of the low points in my life.  thank goodness it only happens once a year.

this weekend we had an indian house guest.  i had no idea but apparently they can be pretty hairy.  at first after he left i was giving him a dirtiness rating of 6 (with 10 being the most dirty).  this was significantly better rating than i gave to bub’s brother after he visited – he had rocked a 10 on the dirtiness scale.  i mean after the bub in law left there were huge black streaks in the tub from where someone had felt an extreme need to exfoliate ???  anyway, i went to the bathroom to clean/dis-infect this time and then i realized that there was tiny hair everywhere.  it had blended into the pattern of the counter top tile and the floor tile.  when i got closer to the tub to soft scrub it — i realized more hair everywhere.. and wipe and wipe and wipe.  its soooo weird.  i had no idea, for some reason i think people who are the same color as bub are approximately as hairy — meaning, not very.. but i see i was mistaken.  i have a lot to learn. oh, the the house guest’s dirtiness rating was really a 9.

sometimes people say i am unhappy.  this is quite annoying since the only time i am unhappy is like… mornings.  other than that i am pretty much happy.  one time i was walking outside with a friend, when she mentioned i seemed unhappy.

“I AM NOT UNHAPPY!!!” i yelled grouchily.  silly people.  “i am not unhappy!” i yelled again with a smile.

flashback: last thanksgiving friend’s parents house.  two daughters and their two bfs, and the parents, and me and bub.  let me just say that both of these couples were all up in each other’s grills.  i found out the day before that there were going to be 2 bfs and not 1, so obviously i was a bit hesitant.

so we go there, and i must say it was worse than i thought.   it was like.. gravy on mashed potatoes.  and i didn’t know where to look.  one was kissing the other’s neck while we were talking, and then there was hair petting, but he missed a few strands – so the hair wasn’t all together, it’s not right, that’s not how you do it– doesn’t he see??  Am i supposed to look at that?  look away?  should i pretend its happening, should i not?  all these things lead to u know uncomfortable.  i console myself by making undirected comments to the room.  They’re sitting on each other’s laps.

“Boy” i say.  “There is a lot of empty furniture in here… with no one sitting on it.” or.

“Wow, everyone is pretty friendly in here.”

By the end I try to play it funny.  “Who was here longer?  this BF or the other BF?”

then i say, “well, this one i will call BF1, and this one i will call number 2”

decorating the tree was on the agenda and while the ladies decorated the BFs looked on from their respective couch positions.  “Look alive number 2,”  i interrupt, “your lady is up and decorating, if you want to be a part of this family boy, you’re gonna to have to participate in the traditions .. and enjoy it!”

that was enough to get one of them out of the chair.  so i felt i did my part for the good of the family.

the epilogue to this story is that in talking to one of the sisters – she vehemently denies that she was ever “all over”  her BF. and that it was really the “other one” that was doing all the smooching.  we can pretend that, but i am pretty sure we all know what really happend.