My Kryptonite

I just realized why I so rarely get along with my Dad and my sister! A revelation worthy of St. John, I would say. After a night out for my Dad's birthday weekend, it hit me: My Dad is the grownup version of every Fratty Douchebag I know in college. He's a perpetual teenager, with all of the demanding, petulant behavior that entails. Even though he's a parent of three (so far) he's never really grown up (which might explain his wife), but somehow still manages to be a fogey. Not a fogey in the way I'm a fogey, which I think is kind of endearing and refreshing, but in that , evil, selfish, crotchety way. He's only 47, mind you. He's that enduring popular guy. He was a fratty douche in college, and that must have been where it all started. He's got this complex, that no matter what is going on, his way is the way it should be, and if you disagree or dissent, he'll either drown you out or gang up with someone else to shut you up. That's where my sister comes in. She's great. I love her to death, but GOD is she a Royal Bitch. When she and Dad get going, it's a trainwreck from Hell. As usual, the thing that tipped it off on Saturday was music. Dad got shitfaced, along with his [expletive deleted] wife, and I was made to drive home, being the only non-lush in the family. I changed up the radio, because I didn't like what was on, and it ended up on some XM station, which happened to be playing a Techno/Trance remix of an Ensemble Hüseyin Türkmenler song. I happen to like said song, remix or no. I was enjoying myself. Dad and my Sister then proceed to attack the music. 

"What is this shit?"

"It's my BIRTHDAY! We listen to what I want!"

"Seriously! This sucks. Change it!"

When I kindly responded that I was driving, and the song was almost over, and it wouldn't kill them to finish it, they both got irate, and my sister attacked the dials.* I kindly tell them all where they can shove their closedmindedness, but leave it at that. I didn't want to start a fight.

They also get like that with food. I want to make rabbit, and I need Dad's kitchen to do it, but they, as a family, won't let me, because it's "gross" and they don't want it in their house. Bunch of fucking Douches.

So yeah. That was my weekend. Woohoo.

When MY birthday weekend rolls along, I'm making it a rule that NO ONE gets to drink. Stepmother can't hold her liquor, and anytime she's in her cups, she picks a fight with my dad, who, of course, in his childish idiocy, eggs her on. That's love, for ya.

Lights Out,

X.

* This behavior has, in the past, gotten her socked in her fucking face.