Tuesday, June 27, 2006
MSB, who has been due back from Paris for the last 2 weeks called last night to again say, “Hi sweetie…I’m really sorry but I’m not going to be back until next weekend…because I’m heading off to Kaiserslautern tomorrow. Uh, miss you! Bye!”. He loves his football so I can hardly begrudge him another World Cup attendance though to be sure, when he emailed me this morning all waaaah-it’s-3am-and-I’m-still-up-trying-to-make-my article-deadline-because-I-was-too-busy-having-a-grand-time-in-Paris-and-London-and-practising-my-chicken-dancing-to-actually-do-any-work-woe-is-me, I bestowed on him all possible sympathy due in the circumstances. Namely: tough shit, biatch. He’d better start busying himself in Paris trying to buy back my love.
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Monday, June 26, 2006
I am now a statistic - my parents are divorcing! After many rather tempestuous years, my mother finally gave him the boot. It’s a terrible misconception that some parents have about “staying together for the sake of the children” when having to put up with bitter tears and recriminations and being made privy to their parents’ dirty laundry is really the last thing the children want. As much as I love pater, and I do, he is a selfish, obnoxious philandering bastard and his presence for the past several years in our lives has been like suffering a slow death by arsenic poisoning. I still can’t believe mater had it in her. They’re as bad as each other in their own special ways, but she’s suffered a lot because of him and if she’s behaved somewhat erratically in recent times, we understand why. God it’s jarring to grow up and watch people who you looked up to and admired for most of your life behave so repulsively. It’s much better they’re apart.
He refused to leave at first so we had to pack his bags for him and left them by the front door. He couldn’t believe our betrayal and would take the memory of it with him to the grave etc etc and parsed on about how ungrateful we all were and that we’d miss him once he was gone (strangely enough I do! – but not enough to wish him back again). He told us that we just didn’t understand adult relationships (!), made a fumbling attempt to blame mater and accused her of being jealous, paranoid and crazy – having forgotten that it was me and my sister, who was only 10 at the time, who had initially sprung him. I assured him that it wasn’t personal, because I thought they were both crazy and not to worry because, in any case, I resented them both equally. He still wouldn’t leave! I called the police. They were very helpful.
I’ve always worried about how the Devil’s Chirrun’ would cope if it ever came to this but my sister (who is also suffering through the HSC, poor bastard) is happy and relieved. My brother, who was not a party to the baggage packing (which therefore elevated him to favourite child status in pater’s eyes), doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by it either and got the idea to sell the 40 or so ties his father wouldn’t take with him (because they were UGLY and bought during his paisley phase). My sister helped him sort them into $2 and $5 piles (!). I think I can guess which side of the family our mercenary tendencies come from. Have to say I am a bit worried about my little bro. He’s never said a word about the fighting and bitterness between the ‘rents and says that he never thinks about it because he doesn’t want to. Which sounds fair enough but that’s not healthy, right? I admit to being somewhat handicapped in my counselling attempts by knowing precious little about teenage boys. Hmph. I’m sure turning a blind eye to his porn stash will suffice.
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He refused to leave at first so we had to pack his bags for him and left them by the front door. He couldn’t believe our betrayal and would take the memory of it with him to the grave etc etc and parsed on about how ungrateful we all were and that we’d miss him once he was gone (strangely enough I do! – but not enough to wish him back again). He told us that we just didn’t understand adult relationships (!), made a fumbling attempt to blame mater and accused her of being jealous, paranoid and crazy – having forgotten that it was me and my sister, who was only 10 at the time, who had initially sprung him. I assured him that it wasn’t personal, because I thought they were both crazy and not to worry because, in any case, I resented them both equally. He still wouldn’t leave! I called the police. They were very helpful.
I’ve always worried about how the Devil’s Chirrun’ would cope if it ever came to this but my sister (who is also suffering through the HSC, poor bastard) is happy and relieved. My brother, who was not a party to the baggage packing (which therefore elevated him to favourite child status in pater’s eyes), doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by it either and got the idea to sell the 40 or so ties his father wouldn’t take with him (because they were UGLY and bought during his paisley phase). My sister helped him sort them into $2 and $5 piles (!). I think I can guess which side of the family our mercenary tendencies come from. Have to say I am a bit worried about my little bro. He’s never said a word about the fighting and bitterness between the ‘rents and says that he never thinks about it because he doesn’t want to. Which sounds fair enough but that’s not healthy, right? I admit to being somewhat handicapped in my counselling attempts by knowing precious little about teenage boys. Hmph. I’m sure turning a blind eye to his porn stash will suffice.
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