I think I've grown up a lot over the years and the things that used to scare the crap out of me...Well, they don't anymore. Take for instance, my dad. When I was a kid, my father was this towering giant whose severe glower could scare the living crap out of me and made me hop to and do whatever task he commanded. It wasn't that he ran his household like a well-oiled machine (even though he did; something, I think was left over from his Army days) or that he made some of the most outrageous requests to puff up his ego (he is an Aries after all with a side order of Scorpio rising...Guh, try growing up with THAT combination for a father and you'll get where I'm coming from), he was just...selfish. Okay, let's not mince it. He was very selfish, and sometimes to the point where it excluded all others.
You maybe wondering about that last statement. Well, there's two kinds of selfish. There's the prideful selfish and then there's just plain old fricken selfish. My grandmother (dad's mom) was, according to my Dad, prideful selfish: when his great aunts offered to raise my pop in a fairly well-off household and allow him to be enrolled in a pretty decent school, my grams refused because she wanted to keep her son with her and raise him according to her standards. Then there's just selfish-selfish, where--whatever you do--it benefits no one in ANY way, shape or form, sometimes no even you. My pop was a combination of both, but sometimes that latter more often than the former.
Either way, growing up with my dad could be considered a very...interesting...experience to say the least. Irregardless, he was selfish and I'll get to my point.
I'm a romantic, and I celebrate the little and then big things in life because ta-da! That's just how I roll. So, me and my current boyfriend's six month anniversary is coming up and while most would say "Six months. THAT's what you're celebrating?" I rather like to think, as I so eloquently put it to my boyfriend, that I'm celebrating that fact that "we've spent ALL this time together and we have yet to kill each other." So, I took him, his mom, his brother, my brother and my mom out to eat at this swanky bar-BBQ grill resturant thingie last night, and it was a fan-damn-tastic night. There were comedians and singers and yummy Lamb ribs (if you object to the eating of lamb ribs....well, I'll be sure not to share them with YOU).
Anyway, there is a method to my madness. I do specific things strategically and methodically when I execute them. I do my Moon-in-Capricorn proud sometimes when the plans go off without a hitch, and despite a bumps, last night went off without a hitch. UNTIL my brother told my Dad earlier that evening of our plans, and when I heard I gave a mental groan of annoyance because, like clockwork, my pop calls me this morning and decides to leave me a message that gets my goad.
The message is thus:
"So, why didn't YOU tell ME that you were going out to eat last night? Why wasn't *I* invited? Are you ashamed of me? Do *I* embarrass YOU?...blah blah blah blah blah blah".....I stopped listening about half-way through because my father seems to have forgotten one VERY small, TINY, miniscule aspect of my personality: I have a temper. More specifically, I have HIS temper and once it flairs up, I don't give a rat's ass who's in my vicinity, it's exploding like Mount Vesuvius and whoever's there gets caught in the aftermath. Luckily, Chaka (the cat) scampered away when he saw the thundercloud forming on my brow.
Like I said: there's a mthod to my madness. I didn't invite my pop because I had seperate dinner planned for him and his girlfriend, Marilyn. Since my mom and Marilyn don't get along and would be making cat-eyes at each other the entire night (not to mention, ME receiving a less-than-welcome phone call from my mother the next morning or THAT night of: "why the HELL did you invite her?" and the WHOLE DAMN silent, uncomfortable treatment that the two icy she-queens would've entrenched the entire table in that whole night...seriously, d'you SEE the friggin hassle I would've had to deal with? Not only that; it was MY treat to everyone because EVERYONE is usually buying me stuff and I didn't want to seem like a siftless, ass, damn NEGRO to my maybe-possibly-who-knows-future in-laws, and if my pop would've come, he would've PAID for everything and decisively pranced his Alpha-male status around to EVERYONE at the table and then would've glowered at my boyfriend with the aforementioned severity and would've, in that one glare, stated pointedly, "Why aren't YOU paying?" I've got my dad down to a science).
I dialed my pop back and he asnwers the phone in a smug sort of, "Yes, Erica?" kind of way and I think, "Oh no, poppa-dear, that shit don't fly with me, son."
And I let him have it. I read him the riot act because let's get something straight, me and my family aren't all peaches and creme. Crazy shit has happened in the past, some of it has been forgiven; lots of it we're still working out the kinks on, but he should know that I have NEVER felt ashamed to call him my dad. Why, I've gotten downright offended when one of my mom's long time boyfriends (an Ex- now) had the gall to try insert himself into my life like he was a secondary father or some such. I let that guy have it too. Just as much as any woman that tries to insert herself as my mother will get read the riot act and then some. I don't mess around, and he knows this and he tried to use the Guilt-trip card on me that MIGHT have had an effect had I been twelve-years-old and more neurotic than I am now.
I've grown up and I damn sure ain't afraid of the bulgy-neck-with-the-ticking-vein-and-the-f
Now, I must go off and pray to GOD Almighty that my puppy comes home. Somehow, the helion got out of the backyard and is nowhere to be found. The boyfriend thinks she's been kidnapped and if I find out those kids next door had anything to do with, FUCKING HEADS WILL ROLL.
Current Location: Looking For My Pup-Pup
Current Mood: anxious
Current Music: "GODDAMN IT, DOG! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!!"