Feelin' The Love
WE ARE FAMILY
If you've ever wondered where I get my easily-offended nature from, let me assure you it's hereditary. I received an e-mail this week from my dad's sister, pointing out that attending to my dying Grandma has used up what little tolerance my family had to begin with, and I would not be allowed "to reunite with the family" if I don't start towing the line toot sweet. "Love, Auntie".
* Love, as in: "we'll guilt you for not coming back to visit, but not one of your 37 relatives here will pitch in a dime to help raise money for your ticket- let your friends carry that entire burden."
* Love, as in: "mindlessly worship your father, who's own mother repeatedly called him 'a real asshole' (probably because he never repayed the $10,000 he owed her before asking for another $10,000, which of course she gave him). Hey, as long as he's heaping abuse on you, he won't be heaping any on us, right ? Now be a good little scapegoat and pretend he actually loves you deep down inside, despite all his assurances otherwise."
* And my favorite and oh so familiar expression of my family's love: "You owe someone an apology (which I have no problem giving, if I can ever find out exactly who was offended by what), but whoever's mad won't own up and will instead send word through a designated spokesperson, who will claim the entire family is going to disown you for what you did- whatever it was."
I did the best I could, replying with a vague apology for my "insensitivity" towards whoever/whatever/whenever, but do I really want to be reunited with a family that refers to itself in the royal "We" all the time ? I'm feeling a lot less guilt about not being able to afford that ticket (and the subsequent one for Christmas that I promised my dying granny I'd purchase). As my neighbor Hope observed, "friends are usually better than family. What the heck is family for, anyway ?" If anyone's ever figured it out, let me know.
BECAUSE YOU ALL KEEP ASKING:
Like most of us working "in the field", Shannon spends a majority of her salary on Vicodin, bandages, and tetanus shots at the end of each school day. Understandably, she was less than thrilled about having to waste 7 1/2 hours downtown on Friday, in search of her fabled paycheck. LAUSD finally coughed up 70% of an already incorrectly shorted amount. Can you smell what the upcoming teachers' strike is cookin' ?
And speaking of families, Shannon's lovin' hers almost as much as I'm lovin' mine. Her dad, the family mooch, spent the weekend whining about how he deserves to be payed by the family for doing absolutely nothing, and what is Shannon complaining about- it's not like she does actual work, not like being attacked by her students all day is difficult, right ? What was that Hope said about family...?
THE ROG REPORT
Richard's dad is a sympathetic chap, willing to take your issues to heart as his own and get all paranoid on your behalf. After overhearing me compare paycheck woes with Shannon, Rog launched into his usual diatribe regarding The Man And His Plot To Keep Us All Down, complete with a side tangent on how the stupidity of the average LAUSD payroll clerk is no accident. According to Rog, the school system that can't do the basic math required to correctly pay its employees supposedly has the smarts to carry out a thirty-year project of intentionally dumbing down the (future) worker drones, preparing them to unthinkingly follow the stupid commands of their so-called superiors. Have to say I can see his point, but as far as I can tell it's been going on for about 30,000 years and isn't limited to schools- ever talked to a manager at Walmart ?
Anyway, Rog followed Carolyn around the kitchen, preaching the word while she attempted to fry up a quesadilla. To keep her sanity she resorted to repeating "you're probably right, dear", then stuffed tortillas in her mouth so she wouldn't have to say anything at all. Rog finally retired the the Bat Cave so he could type a letter to the latest evildoer in his life, of which there are many, and I squired Richard off to Burbank Mall for an object lesson on the previously mentioned worker drones. Anything to support father-son bonding...
If you've ever wondered where I get my easily-offended nature from, let me assure you it's hereditary. I received an e-mail this week from my dad's sister, pointing out that attending to my dying Grandma has used up what little tolerance my family had to begin with, and I would not be allowed "to reunite with the family" if I don't start towing the line toot sweet. "Love, Auntie".
* Love, as in: "we'll guilt you for not coming back to visit, but not one of your 37 relatives here will pitch in a dime to help raise money for your ticket- let your friends carry that entire burden."
* Love, as in: "mindlessly worship your father, who's own mother repeatedly called him 'a real asshole' (probably because he never repayed the $10,000 he owed her before asking for another $10,000, which of course she gave him). Hey, as long as he's heaping abuse on you, he won't be heaping any on us, right ? Now be a good little scapegoat and pretend he actually loves you deep down inside, despite all his assurances otherwise."
* And my favorite and oh so familiar expression of my family's love: "You owe someone an apology (which I have no problem giving, if I can ever find out exactly who was offended by what), but whoever's mad won't own up and will instead send word through a designated spokesperson, who will claim the entire family is going to disown you for what you did- whatever it was."
I did the best I could, replying with a vague apology for my "insensitivity" towards whoever/whatever/whenever, but do I really want to be reunited with a family that refers to itself in the royal "We" all the time ? I'm feeling a lot less guilt about not being able to afford that ticket (and the subsequent one for Christmas that I promised my dying granny I'd purchase). As my neighbor Hope observed, "friends are usually better than family. What the heck is family for, anyway ?" If anyone's ever figured it out, let me know.
BECAUSE YOU ALL KEEP ASKING:
Like most of us working "in the field", Shannon spends a majority of her salary on Vicodin, bandages, and tetanus shots at the end of each school day. Understandably, she was less than thrilled about having to waste 7 1/2 hours downtown on Friday, in search of her fabled paycheck. LAUSD finally coughed up 70% of an already incorrectly shorted amount. Can you smell what the upcoming teachers' strike is cookin' ?
And speaking of families, Shannon's lovin' hers almost as much as I'm lovin' mine. Her dad, the family mooch, spent the weekend whining about how he deserves to be payed by the family for doing absolutely nothing, and what is Shannon complaining about- it's not like she does actual work, not like being attacked by her students all day is difficult, right ? What was that Hope said about family...?
THE ROG REPORT
Richard's dad is a sympathetic chap, willing to take your issues to heart as his own and get all paranoid on your behalf. After overhearing me compare paycheck woes with Shannon, Rog launched into his usual diatribe regarding The Man And His Plot To Keep Us All Down, complete with a side tangent on how the stupidity of the average LAUSD payroll clerk is no accident. According to Rog, the school system that can't do the basic math required to correctly pay its employees supposedly has the smarts to carry out a thirty-year project of intentionally dumbing down the (future) worker drones, preparing them to unthinkingly follow the stupid commands of their so-called superiors. Have to say I can see his point, but as far as I can tell it's been going on for about 30,000 years and isn't limited to schools- ever talked to a manager at Walmart ?
Anyway, Rog followed Carolyn around the kitchen, preaching the word while she attempted to fry up a quesadilla. To keep her sanity she resorted to repeating "you're probably right, dear", then stuffed tortillas in her mouth so she wouldn't have to say anything at all. Rog finally retired the the Bat Cave so he could type a letter to the latest evildoer in his life, of which there are many, and I squired Richard off to Burbank Mall for an object lesson on the previously mentioned worker drones. Anything to support father-son bonding...
posted by Fredrika Krueger at 8:41 PM
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