Family Stories Gone To Hell

 

My fuck do I have a lot of stories to tell about my so called family. You know, back in the day? I'm talking the 70's, 80's, and 1990's - some horrific shit here.

My legendary deadbeat father, would often promise the world and deliver nothing. I distinctly remember one moment in 1987 (or was it 1986?) where we went to  7-11, and he was so goddamn drunk he fell in the 7-11 store. Unbelievable.

But wait, it gets better.

Waking up in the morning while visiting 'mother', seeing a 1/4 glass full of whisky on the coffee table. This is normal shit for me.

And I'm telling you, it's not normal to brew a ton of wine in your spare time. Pro tip: It's a sign of alcoholism. So suck it up, buttercup. 

Drunken uncles fighting on the front lawn. Threatening phone calls from one so-called uncle, who I later found was just a coward. Old Uncle Ron. A complete and total loser. 

It gets even better. From creepy, inappropriate uncles to batshit crazy aunts. One even wore authentic Cleopatra makeup. Can you believe this shit? As my late wife once said about a controlling ex-friend "She's just some dumb-ass b*tch".

Did you know, one of my stupid aunts tried to move in with my wife and I, just 2 months after I bought my first house? I shit you not. It was so fun to make up a lie and tell her "Oh no, we have company coming over for a significant amount of time." Ahahaha, that silence on the phone call was golden. Golden, I tell you! 

I never wanted that leeching asshole even across the street from me.

She took the hint.

They never did a nice goddamn thing for me. Not a single nice gesture, and not even ONCE. And that speaks volumes about family. Doesn't it?

Promising not to drink and actually stopping drinking? Two entirely different things. You know, my dad was a horrible, dead-beat, drunken asshole - but even he quit alcohol for a year. A year. Running up to that point, we hauled out 6 giant garbage bags of gin bottles from my grandma's basement. 6 garbage bags!

But then - guess what? He relapsed. Only to die unceremoniously in the back porch of my grandma's house. Good riddance, asshole.

Wow, achievement unlocked people.

But how do you really know you have a dysfunctional, truly shitty family? Is it the late-night screaming, the loud music from drunken parties, or the awful boyfriends your mother chooses? Or how about condescending, holier-than-thou attitudes? Threats of violence, physical trauma, or terror?

Is anyone else tired of dealing with assholes?

Golf claps all around.

If that meat-throwing incident wasn't enough to seal the deal for me, it was a culmination of dealing with awful people for far, far too long. 

And shouldn't life be about calm, celebrating good memories, and being nice?

Exactly.

The only thing I truly enjoyed in my childhood was the long bike rides and lone park fishing I did when I could. 

More to come.