Dysfunctional Family Whine

Anyone who knows me personally, and knows me well will tell you that I'm the nicest, sweetest, kindest, most fun, most bla bla bla bla bla person you will ever meet. As long as you don't get on my bad side.

And trust me, my bad side is not something you want to get on.

Unless you got a death wish and feel like tangoing with a psychopath who pussy-whips Hannibal Lecter and makes the most vicious necrophile their bitch.

I'm not kidding. Don't mess with me. I might come off as tame, timid, average dorky boarding-school prude geek, but that's just more of a reason why you ought to be careful.

The most vicious, cruel, heartless, cold, evil criminals only got away with their crimes, coz they came off as so darn likeable. Friendly. Nice.

A sure way of luring their prey.

Anyways, that's not what I'd set out to post here.

My dad is a dork. An absolute imbicile.

A few months back, one of our help's 2 year working contract expired, and as is the custom, wanted to head back home. She had the full intention of returning, however, within a period of 2 or 3 months.

Honestly now you would think, a 50 something Kuwaity "family man" would have some experience on how to go about issues concerning your domestic help.

So mom got her a return ticket, and sent the woman on her way to enjoy a blissful, chore-free couple of months with her family back home.

Dad, for some reason, thinks he's exempt from every single law, rule and regulation that applies to every other creature on this planet. Mister "holier, mightier, grander, smarter..." yada yada yada adjectives "...than thou", thinks he is Gods gift to mankind, and can muck around every which way he pleases and ultimately still expects to get his way in the end.

Hah!

It's been about 6 months now since Mervick's been trying to get back here. The fucker didn't renew her visa before she left, which is what he was supposed to do, instead of having to do her legal papers all over again from scratch as if she had never been in Kuwait before. Therefore, she had to go through a checklist of things that must be carried out before she can ever set foot in Kuwait again, including medical checks, visa applications, the works. Mom gets a daily bombardment of text messages from Mervick updating us on how things are advancing. And let me tell you, these mandatory procedures are excruciatingly slow and aggravatingly tedious for all of us.


Mom and sis's trip to Bahrain was cancelled. I think I gave them the evil eye. They were supposed to leave Thursday morning, but the night before, all hell had broken loose in our house.

Sis had felt the urge to spend 100 KD on hair and make up at the Ala'a Dashti place, and then go have a photo session (I've said this a billion times in my posts before, sis thinks she's a star in the making). There was no special occasion. She'd just woken up that day and felt she needed to be doted on like the bimbo that she is.

So she goes and does her hair and make up, comes back home and gets into this 60's inspired black and white polka-dot puffy dress, with her side-bangs coif and bag and 6 inch stilettos (I don't know how she manages to walk) strutting her stuff, practicing at home before she hit the streets. It was already 9:30 pm by then, and she still hadn't left.

Mom's home at 11, and the turd still hasn't come back. Her phone is switched off, the photo studio she was supposed to have gone to is closed (well duh) and mom is going psycho-bitch from hell on my ass.

Of course, it was all my fault. My fault that I actually allowed the slut to go out. That I actually didn't stop her from leaving the house. That I wasn't fucking baby-sitting the bitch. That I hadn't put the whore on a motherfucking leash.

Mom started going through all the possible scenarios. From getting raped, to having a car accident, to running away, to fucking around and losing track of time.

All of which were my fault.

Anyway, so little Miss Priss walks in at 12, with no care in the world, as if nothing had happened, walks right past my fuming screaming screeching demented mom, into her room, closes the door, like she hadn't hear a word of my moms cussing tirade. Cold as ice. Leaving me to deal with the aftermath of her stupidity; ie my moms ongoing nag-saga hysteria fit.


And of course all my plans for this long weekend have been shot to hell. I was planning on going on a coma-inducing waste-athon. I guess I can kiss that idea buh-bye now huh :(

All you NBK dorks who're going to the Army of One concert tonight, o!o up your sorry asses. Who the fuck calls at the last minute anyway?