reign.

I've been procrastinating with my list of movies to watch. I have almost 100. With the rain and boredom tonight, I started with this little gem: Don't Deliver Us From Evil (1971).

There are very few things I love more in this world than dreamy 60's and 70's foreign films. I hope to watch as many as I can.

My hair is getting long, I love it.

I'm a horrible person.

So I was reflecting on past relationships and how much I'm enjoying being single, when I started thinking about the topic of dealing with the families of exes. When you date, you have to be cordial to these people, which can be challenging. I want to write out some funny stories about my first ex's mother, who was rich but yet the cheapest person I've ever met. Now my family is super poor, but my mom had a ton of class and dignity. When guests came over, we used the finest dining set, etc. I absolutely do not require any sort of lavish lifestyle, but I do have some damn standards.... like, not using disgusting things for one. I remember the first time my ex's mom served me breakfast and I sat down at the table. She puts down in front of me pancakes on a warped plastic plate that looks like it was carved into by a sadistic killer. You know what I love? 20 year old gouged plastic plates filled with BACTERIA FOR BREAKFAST THANK YOU ROBIN. As if I wasn't overcome with enough joy, she offered me a glass of milk, which idiot me, I said sure. She gave me an aluminum cup with some sort of coating on it that was peeling off, and there was a flake of it floating in the milk. She mistook my glare of horror as interest somehow and said, "aren't they neat?! I found them at a garage sale! They were super popular when I was a kid". Cool. I need a tetanus booster after this "meal".

When my ex and I moved into our apartment, I tried my hardest to supply everything we needed from my family, but the ever insistent crass other side decided they needed to contribute as well. What did we get? A tv stand from a friend of one of their friends who was throwing it out, or something like that. It was gaudy and I hated it, but I just had to laugh at the fact that these rich fuckers had to ask around to get us this heavy as fuck 70's wood and tile monstrosity when I would prefer it to be a simple $10 table at ikea that's new and nice. That's not the best part. Robin got us a bag of silverware from a garage sale. It was so old and dirty that the once transparent ziplock baggie that housed them was now opaque, and I had to muster up extreme amounts of civility not to bash her head in with the bag. Are you fucking kidding me?! Kmart has silverware for like $5. You'd rather us use someone's disgusting garbage? Do you know what's on that silverware? Shit. Human shit. Don't ask me why or how. Do the forensics. Every. single. crevice. Shit. The minute they left I threw it out. How insulting, I'm not a savage.

So I knew better than to ask those people for anything. The ex and I went rug shopping at some point, and couldn't find one. To my horror, I came home from work one day and my ex's family was all there with a rug laying on the floor. I stared at the rug like it was a corpse. I poured over every detail. It looked... new. I.... was a god damn fool. Skeptically, I started asking questions about the origin of this fuzzy, cream-colored point of contention. The vague answers lulled me into disarmament, and I thought naively, perhaps this rug is okay. As they were leaving, I thanked them again for the gift. Robin looked me dead in the eyes and said, "Oh don't even worry, we found it in a dumpster! There was some cat barf on it, but it came right out." My pupils dilated as I ascended into an anger-induced coma. Well, there are 2 possible scenarios here. #1, this rug was a prop from some twisted porno. #2, it's evidence in a crime. Then I thought to myself, maybe I will make it evidence, considering they're going to find the bodies of my ex and his mother rolled up in it out in a field if this square of knit vileness isn't extricated from my home immediately.

I had to start watching what I wished for in the fear that it would be repeated, and like some sort of twisted chinese-telephone, granted in the most woeful, debased form. After our vacuum started to act up, I felt the words, "we need a new one soon" escape my lips. In a moment of sheer terror, I locked eyes with my ex and gave him a look that conveyed he better not even dare. I thought in my most sinister, angry voice.... if your mother even comes within 500 feet of my apartment with some used, disgusting old vacuum filled with other people's boogers and hair, I WILL STRANGLE YOU BOTH WITH THE CORD.

So, this is why I'm single and a horrible person! ♥