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mean shit below the cut to prove a point to absolutely no one other than myself who already believes it
My dad has always had shitty disgusting friends because he’s a shitty disgusting person himself.
He knows the things he’s done with his shitty disgusting friends bothers us and we don’t like to talk about it or them or the things they’ve done.
I don’t think happen to think it’s fair that he can KNOW this and still finds a way to talk about these shitheads and his own shithead behavior every fucking time the three of us are talking.
And even though I know it won’t have the desired effect (which would be that he realizes how much it hurts so he stops doing it himself), I told my mom I think it’s only fair we do it back. Because we never do. And yet he does. All the time.
So I suggested the first thing that came to mind.
“Let’s laugh as we talk about his mom dying in our house when we took care of her and he just stood flip flopping between crying and screaming at everyone in anger for the next 15 years.”
My mom was already grinning because she loves twisted my sense of humor.
“I’ll talk about the time the stupid nurse dumped peroxide down his mom’s feeding tube to “clean it” and woah wasn’t that cool how it made her stomach spew like a volcano?! A VOLCANOSTOMACH!! HAHAHA!!”
Mom had both hands over her mouth by then and was snorting so hard it sounded like it hurt.
“And then you can mention the extreme hallucinations she had (grandma died of CJD aka mad cow disease) and how funny it was to watch her screaming in terror as she looked up at the corners of the room at nothing.”
The point isn’t that we hold ourselves back from doing this. It’s that we just don’t do it because it’s not funny and because he’s sensitive about his mom’s death from decades ago. We’re considerate of his feelings, so we don’t even joke about it.
But it’s apparently totally fine for him to talk about his friends’ behavior and his own behavior that literally traumatized both of us like it’s funny and yeah get that little smirk on your face while you reminisce about how fun it was to sexually assault random women when you went out with your buddies on weekends.
This is fun, right?!
This discussion between my mom and I happened after I said something about my dad with enough heat behind it that she was like “issues much?” and I was like well yeah now that you mention it 😂
I’m still in the shitty stage of working through childhood shit. I’ve been told it gets better once you get through the shittiest parts, but I’m not seeing the good yet. And I’m still learning shit about myself and other people that I didn’t really want to know.
So yeah, issues 😝
My dad has always had shitty disgusting friends because he’s a shitty disgusting person himself.
He knows the things he’s done with his shitty disgusting friends bothers us and we don’t like to talk about it or them or the things they’ve done.
I don’t think happen to think it’s fair that he can KNOW this and still finds a way to talk about these shitheads and his own shithead behavior every fucking time the three of us are talking.
And even though I know it won’t have the desired effect (which would be that he realizes how much it hurts so he stops doing it himself), I told my mom I think it’s only fair we do it back. Because we never do. And yet he does. All the time.
So I suggested the first thing that came to mind.
“Let’s laugh as we talk about his mom dying in our house when we took care of her and he just stood flip flopping between crying and screaming at everyone in anger for the next 15 years.”
My mom was already grinning because she loves twisted my sense of humor.
“I’ll talk about the time the stupid nurse dumped peroxide down his mom’s feeding tube to “clean it” and woah wasn’t that cool how it made her stomach spew like a volcano?! A VOLCANOSTOMACH!! HAHAHA!!”
Mom had both hands over her mouth by then and was snorting so hard it sounded like it hurt.
“And then you can mention the extreme hallucinations she had (grandma died of CJD aka mad cow disease) and how funny it was to watch her screaming in terror as she looked up at the corners of the room at nothing.”
The point isn’t that we hold ourselves back from doing this. It’s that we just don’t do it because it’s not funny and because he’s sensitive about his mom’s death from decades ago. We’re considerate of his feelings, so we don’t even joke about it.
But it’s apparently totally fine for him to talk about his friends’ behavior and his own behavior that literally traumatized both of us like it’s funny and yeah get that little smirk on your face while you reminisce about how fun it was to sexually assault random women when you went out with your buddies on weekends.
This is fun, right?!
This discussion between my mom and I happened after I said something about my dad with enough heat behind it that she was like “issues much?” and I was like well yeah now that you mention it 😂
I’m still in the shitty stage of working through childhood shit. I’ve been told it gets better once you get through the shittiest parts, but I’m not seeing the good yet. And I’m still learning shit about myself and other people that I didn’t really want to know.
So yeah, issues 😝