DOMESTIC DISTURBANCE

That last post took me an hour and a half to write. Mainly because I keep getting distracted by how much of a bitch my mom can be. Last year I was sick during Thanksgiving, though better by the time the turkey rolled around. Regardless, I was told in no uncertain terms that I could not attend either of my two family's Thanksgivings because I had been sick recently and therefore might spread it to everyone I come in contact with.

So I stuck it out at home, alone, watching the "Dinner for Five" marathon on IFC. Small consolation. I barely got any leftovers, because my idiot family didn't think to take much, and so my typical favorite holiday sucked ass.

This year, my family and I will be in London on Thanksgiving, visiting my cousin, Ray, who is studying in Grantham. So I'm missing my second T-Day in a row. This annoys me.

So I suggested to my grandma that we move Thanksgiving to the Sunday before the real day. Now, my mom is the oldest of five children. Four families of those five will not be here this Thanksgiving. My grandpa pipes up every month or so, saying that he wants every holiday, major or minor, to be a big family to-do because it may be his last... Labor Day or Arbor Day or whatever. It should be noted he is 79 at the end of November and in excellent health.

So I figured that since the vast majority of the family will be elsewhere on the holiday, we could reach a consensus to just change the date of the meal. Everyone seems to agree, but no one wants to have it at their house. My aunt June, who has the biggest house of all of us, though it's not that much bigger, is expected to have every holiday every year. But her house is being renovated right now. My father, sister and I routinely get into scrapes with my mom about why we NEVER have anything at our house. She always has a flimsy excuse at the ready, and when completely ridiculed, digs in her heals and maintains her ridiculous arguments. When it's during the school year (she's a middle school teacher), her excuse is that it's during the school year. When it's during the summer, it's that she has a garage sale coming up or she doesn't want to clean. Our house is hardly dirty, and we have cleaning ladies come every two weeks. Granted it's not in the condition that we could have a holiday meal here in the next half hour, but it would take minimal work to set up such an event. And we all help when she gives in and actually has something here.

So my grandma called and told my mom that she would cook the turkey but asked if we could have it here. My mom, as if she were automated, said unequivically that it cannot be at my house. So I asked her why not? She immediately started yelling at me saying that it's during the school year, blah blah blah. The "fight" was really between herself and her; I was not yelling, I was being yelled at. She told me that she wasn't yelling at me, but that she was reacting to my grandma's tone on the phone. I was right there when she was talking to her, and my grandma had no tone. She's such a bullshitter....

This comes on top of a fight the three of us had with her last week about our upcoming trip. Our plan was to go to England for two days, then go to Cork, Ireland for a day and then head to Dublin until the Tuesday after Thanksgiving, then home.

She was immediately resistant to it all, saying we need to cut most of it out, because there's no "downtime." We all have been to London, except my sister Michelle. I've been to Cork but my family and Ray have not. My family and I have been to Dublin, but Ray has not. We planned to go to Cork because we found a great fare on EasyJet from London, and also because I love that city and wanted them to see a place they haven't before -- the only one on the trip -- but mostly because my dad has been jonesing to go to the immigration museum at Cobh to inquire about getting documents related to his grandparents leaving Ireland for America. My mom, knowing all of this, wrote Cork off as totally unimportant because we are limited by time. She then tried to cut out Dublin entirely because we just saw four of our Irish relatives (out of maybe twenty-five) and that was enough. We saw them for half a day a couple weeks ago.

Frankly, she's full of shit. While I was only in London for two days, I feel like I've seen most of what I wanted to. I don't dislike the city, actually its the opposite. But because it is so insanely expensive, and because most of us have already been there -- including Ray, who is the whole reason we're going anywhere -- I think we should take whatever money we would spend on expensive lodging and sight-seeing, and go to Ireland where it's cheaper and somewhat more meaningful because we have family there and can show Ray around a place we love and know more about. This will be his only chance to see it while he's in Europe.

It is so frustrating dealing with a person so reticent to everything, always. All she wants to do is sit around watching "Law & Order" repeats she's seen before or shitty HGTV shows. It pisses me off even more because I know that this is how she works. She is so against everything from the start, but she warms up to it after a little bit. And had we stuck to our original travel plan, she might have been tired, but she would have loved everything about it and wouldn't have wanted to undo a minute. Over the years, I've just become a different traveller than my parents. Travelling without them is so much better, and even though I'm paying for my costs (which, by the way, she told me was my Christmas present this year -- me paying for my trip... how thoughtful!), I would tag along with them on a trip to anywhere. I'm always up for going someplace, even if it means there will be headaches incurred.

But man, why be a bitch?

A BUTTERSTICK OF JUSTICE

I missed a few months ago the news that a baby panda was born at the National Zoo in D.C. Since the pandas are "on loan" from China, the spawn is technically theirs, and so they get to name him. And according to the Chinese rules -- really, they have rules about this? -- pandas aren't offically named until their 100-day, er, birthday. I guess this is because then they can find something about the panda that speaks to them and proffers a fitting handle. But then Tish told Mary and I today that pandas have a high mortality rate and so they probably don't name them for that long in case they die. Don't want to mourn a named panda, that's for sure....

So the Chinese suggested five names: "Hua Sheng," "Tai Shan," "Qiang Qiang," "Sheng Hua," and "Long Shan."

Translated:

Hua Sheng = "China Washington"
Sheng Hua = "Washington China"
Tai Shan = "Peaceful Mountain"
Qiang Qiang = "Strong, Powerful"
Long Shan = "Dragon Mountain"

Why the hell would they suggest China Washington or Washington China? That's hilarious. And Dragon Mountain? What the fuck is that?

A popular alternative quickly appeared: "Butterstick," which means, simply, "Butterstick." It refers to his size at birth.

This whole thing strikes me as just-enough odd. Obviously pandas are endangered, and that provides for the weird Chinese rules regarding them -- like how big a deal it was when Nixon got the first one when we reopened relations with Beijing -- and they're so freakin cute. So, needless to say, I find this whole thing amusing.

But what I find hilarious is the blog movement for Butterstick to be nominated to the Supreme Court.

As for now, you can watch the NannyCam of Butterstick at the National Zoo. Happy voyuerism....

THE CRAZIES ARE OUT EARLY

Now I don't profess to be prescient, but I think that some liberals in the blogosphere are getting a little ahead of themselves. (I can't find the links right now, but will look later.)

Already, with reports in the NYTimes that the Veep was Scooter Libby's source of the fact that Joe Wilson's wife arranged for his assignment to Niger, bloggers are tripping over themselves to speculate on who is going to be appointed Vice President to replace him. They say it's neck and neck with Condi and Rudy. I say, hold your horses.

The information also suggests that Cheney didn't know her name or that she was undercover. Well, probably because she wasn't undercover.

More on this Wednesday, when I have some more time. Can't watch the game and type at the same time. Can't wait to see the comments....

ODDITY MAID IN A MINUTE

Ok, so I'm no good at puns. I'm not a fan of them anyway....

Is it just me or is it a little off-putting watching tonight's crazy World Series game and seeing Barbara and Neil Bush in every shot. They're right behind home plate, and they're always in the frame, though frequently out of focus. There's just something about these two American worlds colliding so much that is surprising. I know that politicians throw out the first pitch often, but having a former First Lady as a spectator (and the former President, tomorrow I'm sure) in your face all the time, watching a baseball game like she's a big fan, jars me a little. Anyone else?

I wonder if Mayor Daley is going to sit with and/or speak with former President Bush or whichever Bush shows up at tomorrow's game.

Bamn Dastards

Some asshole(s) egged my car last night. I still can't believe it.

Because my mom thinks the world revolves around her, she parks her car in the middle of our driveway, at the back door, for her convenience. Consequently, anyone who pulls a car into the driveway must park behind her. She did this at some point last night, and then later on, my sister came home and parked my car behind my mom's. I came home around 3, driving my dad's car, and parked his car behind mine, the back of the car nearly hanging over the sidewalk. It was 3AM, I was tired, and not wanting to wake up the entire neighborhood, I did not move the cars. Plus at that point, there was no reason to do so. And it would have been too late anyway.

My dad's car was not egged, so that means that my car was hit before I got home. And the fuckers really went to work on it; the front hood, the front windsheild, the back windshield, the passenger back window, all slimed with embryonic chicken yolk.

I woke up to hear that this had been perpetrated on my car and was "told" to clean it up. I figured my sister's friends did it, and therefore she should clean it up. She couldn't have cared less about the whole thing, which made me even angrier.

I spent, no joke, about 30 seconds trying to clean this shit off my car, resigning to the fact that it was cold, the egg had hardened and it wasn't coming off easily. So I took it to Fuller's where I paid $20 for a car wash. They got it all off, but where I had futiley attempted earlier, the wax-on, wax-off motions burned into the paint job, so those two spots on the hood are discolored now.

When my sister backed my car out of the garage in March and tore the front fender off clean in the process, we had to replace it. My dad is friends with a UPS driver who moonlights as a mechanic. Not a very good one, though. He did it in installments (work, not payment); I got a new bumper, albeit a black one for my silver car. I drove around in what looked like a junkyard hodgepodge for a couple months until Stan the Mechanic painted the bumper (and touched up the hood) silver. Fine. Until this morning.

Cars piss me off.