Newsgroups: alt.foot.fat-free,alt.slack

Subject: Re: Manse Diaries: Six O'Clock

From: nospamum@radix.net (MegaLiz)

Date: Mon, 02 Feb 1998 17:33:24 GMT

 

"Rev. Random the Other" <cmcjp02@nt.com> wrote:

: I love reading this stuff.

 

Well, BLESS YOU, Baby. I gotta admit I don't always love LIVING it.

 

We had a guest recently, who wrote me afterward to comment that she

wondered how her life would have been altered if HER mother had been

so calm. "ME? YOU TALKIN TO ME?" I screeched at the screen. All my

life people have described me as "mellow" but I just figured that was

because they weren't paying attention. Now, it's just plain SILLY. I

am not MELLOW--STUPOROUS, sometimes, yesindeedy, but MELLOW is a

fleeting thing that only visits for about five minutes after sex. (You

gotta have a LOT of sex to get that mellow going for a long enough

duration to be called a MELLOW SPELL around here).

 

The Rev has taken to smirking at me, just to watch me flip out. That's

all it takes. He'll cut his eyes at me and twinkle even KNOWING that

I'll stare holes right into his face and say, "WHAT? WHAT? WHADIDO?"

Now that he's CONFESSED to the game, he's afraid that it won't work

anymore.

 

 

He did it yesterday. I announced that I wasn't going to expend any

energy quizzing him, since it was just his plan to fuck with my mind,

after all. "Oh, no," he said, "you were REALLY funny this time."

Smirk. "You were in there yelling, 'Don't SPAZZ! Do you understand

what I mean when I say "SPAZZ?!?" Well, just DON'T!' It was

priceless." He did a little jumping shuffle each time he said "SPAZZ!"

That alone made me want to smack him.

 

Mellow only goes armor deep.

 

 

The thing is, when I DO lose control, nobody CARES. The girls may

FINALLY wander off to their separate corners and find something

absorbing to do that doesn't involve a choke hold, but they don't get

upset when I feel the need every so often to slam a spoon across the

room or foolishly pound my fist on something like a box full of game

pieces that consequently form a set of projectiles that CAN'T miss my

face. Ah, well, "justice delayed" and all that. They seem to fully

appreciate that this hurts me more than it does them. At least I give

them plenty of warning before I have a bursting event.

 

: Didja ever know one of THOSE families with absolutely zero

: parenting/patience skills where Mom is often seen standing

: out in the front yard screaming at a three year old: "I wish

: I never gave birth to you!" We had one of 'em on our block

: when I was a teen. Richie, age three, would yell back from

: half a block away: FUCK YOU, I Hate You, MOTHERFUCKER!!!

: BIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHH! in a

: squeaky three-year-old voice and Mom would ignore it,

: getting in her own "I'm going to kick your ass, you little

: FUCKHEAD..."

 

These days I empathize with even the most thorougly ROTTEN parents. On

the one hand, the ones who threaten to bust heads without getting a

reaction are automatically understood by the kids to be full of shit.

These kids KNOW that Mom's not going to break their arm: at the very

least they intuit that she doesn't want to have to listen to all that

screaming and spend all afternoon in the emergency room. On the OTHER

hand, these people need to remember that, all evidence to the

contrary, their behavior has impact like no one else's--even when the

kids aren't kids anymore. I believe this is generally true, unless the

kids are absolute shitheads, in which case it won't do any good to

REMIND them of the fact anyhow.

 

: My own mom had once planted strawberries in a row on the

: south side of the house, waited expectantly for the first

: ripening berries, and blamed rabbits at first when the red

: berries disappeared. She figured out that Richie was

: picking her strawberries, told him please not to, and got a

: fine "fuck you" in response. She told him that he better

: not talk to her that way ever again, and not to pick the

: strawberries, that SHE planted them, SHE watered them, and

: SHE intended to be the one who got to eat them.

:

: The next day Richie is out there picking her strawberries

: again, and she tries "Didn't I tell you that you are NOT

: allowed to pick these berries?" She had her eye on one big

: strawberry that was just ripening, and...

:

: It was gone the next day, Richie chewing thoughtfully. Mom

: loses it and yells at the toddler: "If you ever TOUCH

: another strawberry, I'm going to CUT YOUR FINGERS OFF!" We

: thought that was hillarious, mom threatening a three year

: old, made up stories about how HIS family would have poured

: ant-killer on a few berries to teach the little bastard a

: lesson...

:

: The very next day, mom calls me to the window, teary-eyed

: from laughter, and there is Richie on his hands and knees,

: head stuck out like a turtle, clearly NOT TOUCHING the

: strawberries he's eating.

:

: Kids. Sometimes a mesh bag and a way-high tree...

 

I LOVE the literal stuff, but I have yet to perfect my stony face. My

dad says the stony face will come.

 

 

Today, Spunky sneezed her head into a door, and I couldn't help myself

from cackling, even while she slobbered all over my shoulder. So even

if I can't get he stony look down, I have conquered the RILLY BIG

KLEENEX posture.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------

Bobo: "GWICK! Em beh-BWAH-DA!"

Translation: My! That was unpleasant! Please help me keep the

spoon away from the back of my throat next time!

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