Posts Tagged ‘birthday’

Mom’s Birthday Bull****

Friday, October 23rd, 2009

For the first time in years, my mom started out her birthday actually pretty chipper. I was delighted! Normally she’s morosely depressed for her birthday. This time, she actually seemed upbeat. We discussed getting her a lemon filled éclair with chocolate frosting and maybe seeing if we could get her a few instance runs on Adashi before the raids tonight. (Can’t afford real presents… but darnit, donuts and heroics we can do!)

Until Aunt Karla called. Nice conversation to start and then came the catty remarks. Among the zingers, she says she doesn’t know why she came back [to Michigan], the family doesn’t pay enough attention or something to her. Lets see… she puts us on her shit list, acts catty and mean whenever we see her, gives ultimatums that she won’t attend family functions if we’re invited, and then declares that? Wow, Dr. Phil would have a field day with this family!!

Now my mom is tearful, sighing wistfully, and morose. Gee, thanks Catty Karla. You’re a real peach.

And there’s still two more family members left to call to give mom her “birthday greetings” — Sheba and Aunt Kathy. Sheba better behave and mind her tongue. Or I might just have to hurt that hateful old hag!

Does “Don’t take it Personally” include a clause about wanting to choke a bitch? >_< Yeah, I’m not doing so well on the whole “not taking it personally” thing. *giggles*

Postcard!

Sunday, November 18th, 2007

Thanks for the postcard, Ook! It’s so pretty! (Yeah, I suck. Sat on this for a few -um- weeks. ^^;)

Postcard from Ookami

About only sending one card — that’s okay. We understand, we really do. ^___^

(Squee! Another postcard for my collection!)

Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!

Awkward-sauce

Tuesday, October 23rd, 2007

Have you ever met someone who insists on telling you their entire life story no less than 5 minutes after you’ve met them? It appears we attract that sort of person at work. So far, we’re up to 3 temps who are that way, plus one or two regular employees.

Today was my Mom’s birthday, but she never really celebrates it. She’s at that point in her life where her regrets are really catching up with her, so she spends the week of her birthday extremely depressed. Well, Carmen, the latest one of these people who like to talk about themselves also celebrated her birthday today.

I really don’t know how to even attempt to describe Carmen without being rude, classist, and — God, I don’t know. Within a few minutes of working with her for the first time, she had to almost recite an itemized list of her previous employers, health and medical history, family, friends, gossip regarding those people, latest movies she’s watched, TV programs, yadda yadda yadda. She had to brag about her “new” car, which is all but falling apart around her. Carmen even had to inform me that she was going to go buy sheet metal to “fix up” some part of the vehicle. What kind of white trash are you???!!!

Basically, Carmen loves to talk — about herself. Every second of the 8 hours you have to work with her. To make things worse, she insists on wearing the cheapest, most vile perfume she can find and then takes a bath in it.

I hate her. Completely and utterly despise working with her.

So back to mom’s birthday. Mom hates celebrating birthdays, Carmen loves talking about anything that has to do about herself.

Mom’s trying to politely brush off the birthday wishes all night. However, over lunch Carmen suddenly notices the birthday message up on the bulletin board in the break room right next to mom’s head and asks if she’s seen it. Hello, idiot — she can’t get much closer to it.

Mom grunts “yes.” And — BOOM — Carmen begins talking endlessly about herself and how much she loves her birthday and that she realizes that not everyone likes their birthdays but she loves hers and that she just doesn’t think about getting older blah blah blah. Since it’s a special occasion, her perfume is especially strong today. Mom keeps trying to bat it away. She’s clearly starting to become upset.

500 tons of awkward here.

Carmen keeps talking.

Finally, mom snaps at her, tears in her eyes, that it’s just another depressing day just like any other. And she finally stops talking.

Great, now I have to put up with an even bigger dose of awkward-sauce than I normally have to.

Thanks!