Long time no rant, questers. I know you all are so angry you could just silver-back gorilla fight me (*side note* I have no clue if those are silver-back gorillas).
Life has been fairly good in my realm, although fighting to maintain the land of my people has been most difficult. I've already lost many brave souls (AKA Nigel's) to the war effort.
Is this insensitive?
Many moons and eons ago I posted a little about my family and childhood, mainly that I was a egg in a sausage factory...a horrendously tortured egg (psst- I have two brothers!). I however do not know if I mentioned that my parents fail at picking favorites.
I'm like this. Humpty-dumpty...oh, and evil.
Favorite children happen, just like shit and herpes happen. They just do. Usually the favorite is the first-born or last-born, hardly ever the middle. Guess which I am?
Did you guess first-born? Well, you're wrong. Awesome, you guessed last-born? Wrong again.
Unfortunately/fortunately (depending on how you look at it), I was born the middle child. I am unfortunate that I am the middle child because...fuck the middle...but I'm also fortunate because I am a little sister AND a big sister. I'm like the Big-Little program all-in-one!
Where you'll never catch me in a million years.
I never really cared about being a middle child. It was whatever. I honestly didn't even realize how unfairly I was treated sometimes until my late teens/early adulthood.
Example #1: Verbal Arguments
The sad fact about my family is that we are arguers at heart. We will argue about anything and everything (from gay marriage to religion to fucking dirt). We pretty much don't need much incentive to start an all out debate over the Thanksgiving dinner table at Grandma's. We are also the clan with the 'I'm-always-right' blood. You can see then that my two brothers and I absolutely never argued, except for...well, always.
Probably the only thing my brother and I agree on - Atheism
My parents were usually fine with letting the argument run it's course until things got physical or someone started to cry. Then it was remove quarreling siblings and blame the perpetrator of the argument. Now, I'm not saying I was always right. Hell, I was probably in the wrong most of the time (probably why I was blamed all the time).
I got into an argument with Mike (older brother) once over medical jargon. It's nice to note that Mike knew jack-shit about medicine while I was training in it. I don't remember what word/disease we were feuding about but I was 'obviously, completely, clearly in the wrong'. We got increasingly agitated and loud until my parents came in, told us to shut it, and told me to stop causing arguments. Yep...even though I had only been correcting him at first (you know, like a good person?). Oh well...
Or how about the time that my older brother called me a fat whore (in front of his friends) and I started crying. My mom found me crying on her bed and asked me what happened. I told her and guess what? Mike got in trouble! Lol! Just kidding, I was told to ignore him and stop starting arguments.
*Please note, lest pitchforks fly my parents way, that I have the best mom and dad in the world regardless of their unnoticed favoritism towards Satan, I mean, Mike.*
Example #2 Physical Altercations
I've been in fights. A lot of fights. With a brother 2 years older than I and a brother 1.5 years younger than I, well, I certainly took a rock to the head more often than not (*note* my brothers weren't excessively harsh...most of the time).
I've never really been a wuss and I'm actually glad of these little tussles, since they have made me stronger overall. But once again, we have little instances of favoritism.
In a verbal argument turned brutal showdown to the death, Mike and I stood toe to toe just waiting for the moment to attack. He tackled me. I kicked him. He pulled my hair. I bit him. He maybe-not-so-accidentally threw me down the stairs. I was blamed for starting the fight. Oh, how the cycle repeats.
*Please note that my parents would never let us get seriously hurt and wouldn't even let us fight if they caught us. Also note that they are bad-ass.*
Example #3 Pets
When I was in middle school my parents got Mike a little black lab puppy. He named her Leela. Yes, from Futurama. She was so fantastically cute that I wanted a puppy as well.
The resolute answer was no. Understandable, but sad. Two puppies at once was probably a little overboard for my parents.
A few years later I asked for a dog again. My parents said we couldn't get another dog until school was out (FUCKING SUMMER) because no one would be home to train it until then. Fair enough. I asked for a cat instead.
We only had one cat at the time (belonging to Mike). My cat had died year prior from liver/kidney failure while I was still in elementary school.
The answer again to my request was no, yet mom and dad agreed I could get a pet...just not a dog or cat. Okay, I thought in my young mind. A rabbit? No, they smell. A ferret No, they are evil. A guinea pig? No, horribly smellier than a rabbit. A snake? Nope, not again (we had a snake when I was younger and had to get rid of it when we moved). I was at a standstill. I didn't want fish or something stupid like that (I totally had fish at one point. I was just fussy because my parents weren't being cool). And finally, after many attempts to get a cuddly snuggle bunny or chinchilla my parents agreed...To. A. Fucking. Bird.
I took my only chance at pet ownership and my parents bought me a bright green and blue hand raised Budgie. I named him Clicker (because obviously GENIUS) and he actually became my friend.
You may be asking yourselves where the unfairness is. My parents allowed me to get a pet, just not a dog or cat or smelly rodent. And sure, that would have been okay...except, a few months later my parents got my younger brother, Cody, a cat (which he named Amy...from Futurama). A cat like I wanted! A cat who proceeded to kill my bird the day she arrived at our house.
Oh, did I mention that Cody didn't like this cat because she wasn't super cuddly so my parents got him another? 2 cats when they swore we weren't getting any more cats.
What did I get for my murdered bird? Another 2 birds...
*Please note that I still have the best parents ever. They just kind of thought I fell in love with birds, I didn't. They were sadly misinformed by my sobbing when my buddy Clicker clicked no more.*
Here's a fun story regarding Clicker's death and funeral. He was attacked at night and died the next morning (a Saturday) from shock. I called my parents crying - my dad had said Clicker would be fine. He was just being a good lying dad. My dad told me to have my brothers help me bury him. My brothers were such "good brothers" that day! Oh no, I meant the opposite. They totally told me no! So I lovingly filled a shoe box with soft rags and laid Clicker in his warm tomb before surrounding him with dandelion weeds. At least the weather was wonderful for a funeral. Ah, just fucking with you, it was raining hardcore and I was crying like a baby while trying to bury my pet.
Wasn't that a fun story, kids?
I've never really been a wuss and I'm actually glad of these little tussles, since they have made me stronger overall. But once again, we have little instances of favoritism.
In a verbal argument turned brutal showdown to the death, Mike and I stood toe to toe just waiting for the moment to attack. He tackled me. I kicked him. He pulled my hair. I bit him. He maybe-not-so-accidentally threw me down the stairs. I was blamed for starting the fight. Oh, how the cycle repeats.
My body is the one in pieces.
Example #3 Pets
When I was in middle school my parents got Mike a little black lab puppy. He named her Leela. Yes, from Futurama. She was so fantastically cute that I wanted a puppy as well.
I can totally see the resemblance here.
The resolute answer was no. Understandable, but sad. Two puppies at once was probably a little overboard for my parents.
A few years later I asked for a dog again. My parents said we couldn't get another dog until school was out (FUCKING SUMMER) because no one would be home to train it until then. Fair enough. I asked for a cat instead.
Something like this!
The answer again to my request was no, yet mom and dad agreed I could get a pet...just not a dog or cat. Okay, I thought in my young mind. A rabbit? No, they smell. A ferret No, they are evil. A guinea pig? No, horribly smellier than a rabbit. A snake? Nope, not again (we had a snake when I was younger and had to get rid of it when we moved). I was at a standstill. I didn't want fish or something stupid like that (I totally had fish at one point. I was just fussy because my parents weren't being cool). And finally, after many attempts to get a cuddly snuggle bunny or chinchilla my parents agreed...To. A. Fucking. Bird.
I took my only chance at pet ownership and my parents bought me a bright green and blue hand raised Budgie. I named him Clicker (because obviously GENIUS) and he actually became my friend.
This, only brighter and with more blue.
The face of a murderer (I still like her though).
Oh, did I mention that Cody didn't like this cat because she wasn't super cuddly so my parents got him another? 2 cats when they swore we weren't getting any more cats.
What did I get for my murdered bird? Another 2 birds...
*Please note that I still have the best parents ever. They just kind of thought I fell in love with birds, I didn't. They were sadly misinformed by my sobbing when my buddy Clicker clicked no more.*
Here's a fun story regarding Clicker's death and funeral. He was attacked at night and died the next morning (a Saturday) from shock. I called my parents crying - my dad had said Clicker would be fine. He was just being a good lying dad. My dad told me to have my brothers help me bury him. My brothers were such "good brothers" that day! Oh no, I meant the opposite. They totally told me no! So I lovingly filled a shoe box with soft rags and laid Clicker in his warm tomb before surrounding him with dandelion weeds. At least the weather was wonderful for a funeral. Ah, just fucking with you, it was raining hardcore and I was crying like a baby while trying to bury my pet.
Wasn't that a fun story, kids?
So yeah, instances of favoritism all over the place but I still had the best childhood ever. I doubt my parents even realized their little acts of PUTTING MIKE ON A FUCKING PEDESTAL.
Oh the loveliness of families!
Go go average family! Mighty, normal, average family!
In other news, baby WP (womb-parasite) has been moving. I'm secretly hoping he/she take looks and brains from Daddy Ty.
Also, I had a dream the other night where I was supposed to infiltrate SeaOrg and take out all the major Scientologists. I saw them handing out pamphlets and decided to ninja into their society. I became a level 9,000 paladin or some shit and was able to sit in the highest choir of Tom Cruises (I actually know diddly about Scientology). The dream ended by me freeing all the abused/brainwashed children from international water slavery and defeating the evil John Travolta (because he is obviously the head of the whole organization). I will probably be put on their hit list now so if I disappear you know.
Tom Cruise - Scientology Defender of Justice
Not to poke fun at religion or anything but seriously? Scientology?
In another flash of news, the current weather sucks. It sucks so hard. It was short-sleeve wearing weather just a few days ago...then it is snowing...then it is sunny...now it is windy and freezing. I give up.
I bid you adieu until next time (like 2 months from now).
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