Another Wacky P Story

It seems that some of my blog sisters are sad, frustrated, dealing with issues, sick or just plain in need of a good story.

I'm here to help.

Nothing like a gratuitous Wacky P story to cheer people up.

On the afternoon of Halloween, I was roped into going to Wacky P's house. The in-laws were there too (might as well make a full disaster of it). The occasion was Wacky P's daughter's 6th birthday.

My DH went back over there the following morning for coffee and breakfast. I skipped that event - and was glad for it.

Now if I truly told the story in all its glorious detail, it would be really, really long. So I'm just going to hit the high points. I'm sure it will still be lengthy enough.

First, both Wacky P and her daughter had hellacious, thick, chunky coughs. I found this out after we got there. Thanks a lot. On the phone beforehand Wacky P assured my DH that they were no longer sick, but she was sure the Girl had the H1N1 the prior week. When the Girl stood beside me (wanting to climb on my lap as I sat at the table) and coughed, I crossed my arms and turned away from her. Rude? Probably under most circumstances, but I'm not willing to risk a potentially lethal virus for the sake of courtesy. I even outright scolded her at one point to cover her mouth when she coughed.

There's something strange about the Girl. She's incredibly bright and intelligent for her age, but they let her behave like a baby. If she wants attention she will whine and "wah" like a baby, loudly, interrupting the adults' conversation. It's really strange.

Yes, the house was grubby, grimy, filthy and smelled like damp mildew. Yes, there were piles of dirt on the floor around the legs of the dining table. Yes, the window was smeared with greasy fingerprints that look like they'd been piling up for months. Yes, there was a massive pile of crumbs all over the tablecloth when we arrived. Ugh.

My FIL (the Great Pontificator) sat at the table and rambled on, seamlessly transitioning from one topic to another, needing no one else's input and happy just to hear himself talk: growing medical marijuana, substitute teaching, his recent trip to Mexico and how urban and uninteresting it was, grass-fed beef....I tuned out at some point. He gives me a headache.

My MIL (the One Woman Firing Squad - of questions, that is) knows I work for the state and asked me whether California is paying it's bills. Huh? What am I, the state comptroller? She also wanted to know what my doctor says about weight gain during pregnancy. I tried to avoid most questions with short, nonresponsive answers.

Wacky P thought a nice name for our boy would be her grandfather's name - Loris. I said, yeah, if we want him to get his ass kicked on the playground.

Wacky P's kids got ready after dinner to go to a Halloween event put on by their school. The 11 year old Boy's costume was a zombie. He did a good job - white face with black hollowed eyes, ripped t-shirt, gelled and wild hair. Wacky P scolded him for looking "too scary" since the school event is a themed event geared toward the littler kids and last year's theme was fairies and gnomes. I said, "The Boy is too old to dress like a fairy." My husband glared at me. What the heck did she expect him to want to be? Freaking Cinderella?

While the kids were in their rooms getting ready, Wacky P told us that for the Girl's birthday present, Wacky P and her husband gave the Girl a book on bees. Nothing else. She said so. The Girl is six. A book on bees? Have fun with your present, honey, don't break it the first day.

And then it got really good....

The following morning when my husband returned from breakfast at Wacky P's he said that while he was there, Wacky P's husband shot - yes, shot - three squirrels in their yard. Mind you, these are the people who won't swat a spider in the house...but they'll shoot squirrels that invade their garden.

The Girl, age 6, picked up a dead squirrel by the tail and was carrying it around. No, I am not kidding. Can you say "disease ridden rodent"? Holy crap.

They apparently put the dead varmints in the freezer and then on trash day, put them in a plastic bag and throw them away. Seriously.

My husband was telling me this and I just sat here, mouth gaping wide, in disbelief. I told him there is no way in hell Wacky P is going to babysit our kid without us present. There is no way in hell our kid is going to crawl on her floors during visits. And there may possibly be no way in hell I'm going over there for Thanksgiving dinner (yes, she is hosting).

But you know Wacky P takes every occasion to criticize me. She told my DH that after we have the baby we won't have time for TV anymore. I told him maybe she ought to make time to clean her house a little.

What is up with these people?
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