Monday, February 1, 2010
Not the Cleaver's....or even the Griswold's.
Have you ever met those kind of people that are totally inappropriate? Like they have no idea what constitutes being a normal, upright citizen? The one that walks like they have cerebral palsy in the mall, even when the only twitch in their body is the one in their brain that sends electric waves shooting through their neuro pathways which is the only logical conclusion as to why they would behave in such a douche bag, moronic way?
Well......I'm related to them.
I have a relative that cried for five days when his dog died, and I mean hysterically, but when his mother died, he snuck into her house that night and stole her refrigerator.
I have another relative that has five kids by three different men and was caught stripping across the county line in a real dump, where the lice in the toilet pole vault onto your genitals just to catch a ride out of the joint.
Another relative is a witch. Seriously, he (yes, he) believes that if he worships a pagan god, he will develop some kind of super powers like Samantha in Bewitched. If you think Southern Baptists are bad about preaching at you, wait until you get a load of this joker.
I have another relative that once put bullet holes into the back of our car because she was angry with my mom.
Another relative that moved to the mountains in Colorado, changed his name and doesn't wear anything other than flannel. I can't remember what he changed his name to, but its something like Rocky. Yeah, you heard me.
This one girl in the family will go to the beach, meet men and have sex with them while her husband secretly watches.
Another one is a child molester, then there is the con (wo)man, the evil one, the alcoholic, the pill addict and the schizophrenic one (she's actually entertaining to be around).....The list goes on and on. I have an enormous family, and while there are a few of them that I wish would drop dead, as it would make the world an entirely better place, I'm thankful for them.
Even if I don't want to use a wash cloth after them, or randomly tell strangers my maiden name as they might put two and two together and Lord knows who or what they will come up with.
I'm thankful for them because I guess I'm glad that they were the ones stuck with the crazy gene and my branch of the family seems to have escaped it (with the exception of my dad thinking my mom practices voo doo and my brother refusing to get a steady job).
I was talking with my mom a while back and she told me that in some way or another we are related to Lana Turner. All of her grandmother's family were Turner's and one of her aunt's had a room papered with memorabilia from Lana's life. I looked her up and it turns out the crazy gene was definitely fully in place through out her reign in Hollywood and beyond.
I'm just pissed that I didn't inherit her boobs.