Fuck Surprises

My Mother in Law decided to blow into town.

How did I find out about this? Thursday afternoon as I was rushing out of work to make it to Butter's Back to School Night, the Pack Mule called to let me know. How did he find out? She fucking sent him a text. Who sends a text to let someone know they're coming into town FROM STATES AWAY?

This woman lives in fucking Florida (thank you, God) for cripe's sake. FLORIDA. I'm in VIRGINIA. This isn't some couple of hour drive to "stay overnight."

He told me she'd be here Tuesday. Fine. A few day's to prepare myself to see the Drunk Grandmother (AS IF she really fits that moniker) of the Year.

NOPE.

Got the call from the Pack Mule on FRIDAY evening when he was leaving work. "She's here. She's in town."

Are you fucking kidding me? No prep time? Nothing?

I had to have lunch with her at the Pack Mule's place of work yesterday. Why? I wouldn't have it at MY HOUSE. Nope. If I can reduce the amount of time this fucktard spends at my home, I WILL DO IT.

Misery. She is misery.
She complained the ENTIRE TIME.
About everything.
Her daughter.
Her "friend."
Her life in general.

The "friend?" Yeah. Another drunk. The Pack Mule's mother sanctimoniously attempted to talk shit about her friend being a bad mom, she drinks too much, blah blah blah. Dude? Hello?Pot. Kettle. Black. And we're not talking about the fucking hue of your skin either, sister.

I finally said, "You know what? I have found that confronting someone about alcohol and drug abuse when that someone isn't willing to even look at her behavior is just a lost cause." I stared at her coldly with a gleam in my eye. She shut her drunk-ass mouth about THAT.

Today will be yet another day of me attempting to be civil when I really want to punch her in the head.

I may have to take some of my anti-nausea meds. The Rx kind. Why?

I'm not pregnant. I'm just literally SICKENED when I have to watch how she stares at my son as if she had some magical connection, some universal link with how he's turned out.

Lady? You have seen him all of seven times since he's been born. All of those times you've either been buzzed or dead-ass drunk. Do you honestly believe you've had a hand in anything positive? For real?

Go back to Florida. Drink yourself to death. And be done with it.

The best news? (This is cold-hearted. But I'm not about to lie here. C'mon. You know me better than that.)

She told me that her kidney functions are fucked up. I asked her about the numbers and meds she's on to get an idea of HOW fucked up. They're fucked up. She kept going round and round about how the doctors "just can figure out why I'm having these issues."

Do you think it has anything to do with the fact that you drink a GALLON of wine each day and chase that wine with BEER? Do you THINK????????????

Renal failure without treatment of any kind is quick. I told her that to her face. I reminded her that my Dad lasted all of 10 days once his kidneys failed. That's it. I said it with a straight face and followed up with, "So if you're telling me that even though they've mentioned dialysis and you're refusing that option - you should know that it won't take long to die from this. At least you won't be suffering from a long death as a result of lung cancer from all those cigarettes you smoke. There's a positive, right?"

You could have heard crickets. Love that.