~Orko Starfux and the Guilt Trip~
a.k.a The Trial of the Taxi Stalker
In today's adventure, Orko Starfux is smothered with guilt and drama because his mother doesn't get what she wants. Most people would say that the mother is being childish, except the mother. And the world continues to turn, unaffected...
My bud Glen came over last night for our weekly intake of wine, tortilla inspired decadence and bible-bashing fun. The evening started off normally; just chilling, playing with the 'fux and yukking it up.
Then the phone rings. It's a long distance ring and I assume it's the boyfriend who lives too far away. I look and it's not him - it's my mum. I answer.
She tells me that my father's sister's husband's father has died. In other words, my uncle's father. He was a very nice man in the brief encounters I had with him and because of timing, we usually had Christmas dinner with their family on Christmas day (we have to drive 5 hours every Chrimbo Day and end up arriving at supper time). He had been sick for about 3-4 years, steadily deteriorating.
I respond to the news and say how sad it is. She tells me that the visitation is the next day and the funeral the day after that. I then say, "I'll send a card when I go to work tomorrow."
"I was going to ask you what you were doing tomorrow night," she says.
"Well, I can't really go to a visitation - I have nothing to wear, no dresspants and no dress-shirt." There's a long silence and then she goes,
"I would have thought a young, trendy guy like you would have a pair of black pants and a white shirt," with the condescension and sarcasm barely hidden.
"I don't have to dress up for work so I've not had one in years. I don't wear black pants. I also don't have the money to go buy an outfit and black shoes to go to a visitation."
She also implied that I should go to the funeral the day after. I told her that I didn't feel it was all that necessary for me to go to either event and that a card was appropriate, considering the relationship. She then replied with this nugget,
"Well, maybe instead of all this 'techy' things on your Christmas list, we should get you an outfit for when your grandmother dies."
W.
T.
F.
?
!
Let's analyze, sall we?
First of all, threatening me with not getting shit that I placed on my Christmas list is as insulting to me as it is childish. I don't give a flying FUCK if you get me ANYTHING for Christmas. I'm nearly 30 years old...I gave up on getting Castle Greyskull a LOOOOONG time ago, lady. And when my list is exclusively populated with kitchen implements, it doesn't exactly hold the same weight.
I can buy my own outfit for any funeral I require WHEN. I. DEEM. IT. APPROPRIATE. I don't have the money (NOR THE INCLINATION) to buy a new outfit and take the Go-Train a total of FOUR times over the next two days to the sprawling shit box that is Hamilton, Ontario.
Finally, the gall to actually compare the POTENTIAL (NOT YET OCCURRED) death of my beloved Gran with that of an admittedly nice guy (one who I barely know or see regularly) is fucking RIDICULOUS. Period. I'm actually surprised she didn't go for the whole hog and say, "Well, let's hope you have an outfit for MY funeral."
I was so appalled by the entire exchange, I really didn't know what to say. I sat there stunned at the immaturity of a 50+ year old woman. I then realized it was her job to be retarded in my mind.
Anyway, back to my point - I really don't feel it is necessary, nor even appropriate, for me to go out, spend money on a new outfit and get myself to Hamilton for this. I bought a card this morning and will be mailing it momentarily, as soon as I finish this blog.
I mean, my best friend's father died recently and I talked to that guy SEVERAL times. I wanted to go to the funeral, but he lives in the United Kingdom...so what are you gonna do? Send a friggin' card - an entirely appropriate response to my way of thinking.
My mother has no concept of other people's schedules, lives or needs. She's a great mom, but expects me to be able to have lunch with her WHENEVER IT SUITS HER. She's called me on several occasions from Yorkdale Mall stating that she wanted me to meet her for lunch. Immediately. I live at least 45 minutes away and that's if I'm ready to leave that SECOND - which, like most people, I am not.
She also seems to be very pre-occupied with what the rest of the family will think of her because of my behaviour, completely overlooking the fact that I am nearly 30 years old and the ENTIRE family sees me as her son, not her left testicle or some kind of nuclear accident that is melting off her ass cheeks.
I also know that at said visitation SHE will be the one bringing up my absence. NO ONE ELSE WILL CARE UNTIL SHE BRINGS IT UP. Fine. I don't give two flying fucks, either way. I sent a very nice card and that, to me, is enough.
Epilogue:
After managing to get all that nonsense out of my head, I left for work this morning in the pouring rain with a dead battery in my MP3 player. I managed to buy new batteries, over priced mind you, and set off again. Then the wind picked up to religious proportions and I decided to take a cab. I saw one coming and hailed it immediately. He slowed down, looked at me, and then turned onto a side street...and he was already on my side of the road. Huh?
So, I kept walking in the pouring rain and wind. Then I noticed the same cab pull up beside me and start driving slowly beside me - this is Yonge street, of course, where the traffic needs to move fast. I just ignored him and he kept following me. I got to College and Yonge and he was STILL following me. The light changed and I started to cross. He was still driving beside me, crawling. He then decided he'd given up and he sped up.
I immediately grabbed the cab right behind him.
Asshole.
S.
Dr. No (1962)
