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2:17 p.m. - 2006-05-19
\"Hello, Darlin. Nice to See You. It's Been a Long Time...\"
I hate it when I don’t update for a while…

See, if I update (semi) regularly, ya’ll know what triviality has happened in my life. You know about me seeing the interracial midget couple at Wal-Mart again. You know that Mr. Stinky-Scratchy-Snorty at work still annoys me. You know that I saw a car with a license plate that said “IMSPECL”. And you would know that I have spent stupid amounts of time playing World of Warcraft lately.

Any one of those things could be an entry. Or part of one. But I just haven’t felt in touch with my Inner Snarkette lately. Sure, she comes out to play once in a while, like this morning, and bitches about:

~The idiot group of 30 bike-racers attempting to get run over by city buses so their families can collect insurance practice their racing in morning downtown traffic.

~The parking card which was IN MY CAR CONSOLE yesterday at 6:25 when I finally left work and has somehow vanished this morning, which means I will have to (a) dig through the car to find it when I leave and (b) convince the parking chick that I really don’t need to pay the hourly rate, even though the little ticket I had to take this morning to make the damn gate open SAYS I do.

~The lawyer who gives me a presentation to revise that says things like “can you make this look pretty?”

~TD calling asking for directions to something downtown, and then a “by the way, we’re going to see DaVinci Code tonight, right?” No, we’re not. First, I have a ginormous seething pile of laundry to do, and second, I’m going with Lando this weekend.

So anyway, speaking of Lando. He mentioned this in his blog, but left it up to me to tell the actual story of (dun-dun-dun-dunnnnnnh) meeting his family.

I’m not usually the kind of person who gets nervous about meeting new people. Maybe I was, once upon a time, but after going on countless job interviews and being dragged to countless parties with people I don’t know, I thought I had gotten over that shit.


First, his family has been bugging him about me ever since he blew off hanging out with his sister when I was there.

Second, they are a *little* on the religious side.

Third…they are his family. I mean, yeah. I met the former GID’s mom and brother…but that’s ONLY BECAUSE HE LIVED AT HER HOUSE. That was an accident. It wasn’t a “family dinner on purpose” thing. It wasn’t an inspection.

I knew that his dad, stepmother (it was her birthday), sister, brother-in-law, and gay uncle were going to be there. What I did not know is that his great-aunt was going to be there. This is she of the disparaging comments about fat people wanting food, the one Lando doesn’t like, blah blah blah. He didn’t know she was going to show up, either.

I guess I should have expected the “how did you meet?” question, but somehow, I guess I thought he already covered that and was taken off guard. I let Lando decide how much he wanted to tell…I mean, those of my real-life friends who I force to read this blog know what’s up, but some of my real life friends are not aware of LoopySpace…so they get the one-word answer “online.” He actually semi-mentioned blogging, which was brave.

For the most part, his family seemed very nice…even the aunt actually smiled and made conversation with me. However, I really had an uncomfortable moment when she started talking to Lando’s sister and asked if she was wearing her “fat pants.”

Lando’s sister is not fat.

I was internally going “well, fuck me, and here I am about to order a steak and really enjoy the shit out of it, too, and eat my salad and potato and this is on top of Cinco de Mayo food day at work, which I really didn’t mean to eat like a piggy but OH MY GOD one of these chicks at work made some sopapilla casserole thing with cinnamon and pastry and cream cheese and I just couldn’t fucking make myself stop and he may not actually hear her make the hateful comments later but his sister will and she’ll tell him and….”

At least from what I was told, she said I was pretty. Maybe it’s because I’m not a relative.

Anyway, it really wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be after I spent three days obsessing about what to wear and what to say.

I know I’m not done, but more stories would involve discussion of my 32nd birthday, and that’s another two pages, and I really do sorta have to get some work done this afternoon instead of just pretending by sounding all industrious with the typing.

I promise I won’t wait this long next time. Pinky swear.



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