Monday, October 16, 2006

ThePeach and TigerCat get a Birthday Message from CoorsLight

Ahhh Birthdays. Gotta love them, right?


TigerCat and I happen to have birthdays that are only a week apart. Well, 3 years and a week apart, but whatever. The take-home message is that our birthdays are close together and often celebrated by our lazy family on the same day. This year was no exception. I turned 24 on the 5th, TigerCat turned 21 on the 12th (we is old fucks, TigerCat. Let’s run away and start new lives) and our mom threw us a family b-day party on the 7th. This part-ay took place at our grandfather’s house and consisted of several key family ingredients:

1. Inebriated Grandpa

Ah yes, it’s just not a family get-together, or any day after 5pm, if our grandpa isn’t drunk. Things started going down-hill when my mom’s live-in poured wine for everyone at the table, and when he got to my grandfather’s glass…

Peach Grandpa: “Hey sonny, don’t be a Jew! Are you afraid we’ll run out?” *pushes finger onto bottle-tip and dumps large quantity of wine into his glass*

Not that I don’t love a good crack at the Jewish people. Stingy bastards.

(Peach edit: I am being sarcastic. I fully respect the Jewish people, especially FauxHawk. Please still love/lay me.)

2. Maternal ‘Dis

Our mom has this way of making us feel totally unimportant at times, which I suppose is understandable. Clearly it is more important to make your 3rd husband happy (and I will call him her husband despite the fact that they are not married, because they have lived together for 2 years and refer to each other as husband and wife. Although this is very wrong and bad of them and they should really refer to each other as “sinful live-in” if they want to be technical) than it is to make your 2 children happy on their birthday. Because your 2 children won’t leave you…and if they do, they probably won’t steal your money.

So, my mom was supposed to make us a special birthday dinner that night. That morning she announced that she was going to make us an overly healthy/heart-smart pasta dish which neither of us had ever had before. We were under the impression that she was going to make us our favourite meal, but whatever, we flowed with it. Until…

ThePeach: *watching mother stir dog-food’ish concoction* …that looks…good…mom.
TigerCat: *trying to hold back food-snob disdain* ….is that…canned salmon?
Peach/Tiger Mom: LaLaLa! This is my husband’s favourite meal! He loves it when I make it at home!
ThePeach: …I see…so it makes sense to make your live-in’s favourite meal on your children’s birthday.
TigerCat: …and I’m assuming he likes this meal because the canned salmon served over whole wheat pasta with no discernable traces of sauce conforms to his heart-healthy diet?
Peach/Tiger Mom: It’s your birthday?

3. Kick in the balls

Sometimes the annual birthday kick in the balls comes when our rich aunt forgets her only nieces birthdays, or when our mother gives us the wrong directions to the restaurant we’re supposed to go to, which happens to be inside a bowling alley, and by the time TigerCat and I finally find the place the family has already ordered and finished appetizers.

This year’s birthday kick in the balls came courtesy of CoorsLight. For those who need a brief family history (prepare yourself…it’s scary peering into our lives), here goes:

My mom divorced our Dad after a brief 5 years of marriage, when I was 3 and TigerCat was a wee baby. We’re pretty sure TigerCat and I are fully related, but it’s very possible that TigerCat is the love-child of the milk-man/post-man/any-man. My mom managed without a man in her life for exactly 6 months, when she met CoorsLight at a bar, leaving her 2 sleeping babies at home. Hopefully with a sitter. CoorsLight moved in with us when I was 5 and TigerCat was 2 (approximately…it feels like he was always in the house, like the mold in the walls). For 11 years, he reigned over the family like King of the motherfucking dysfunctional castle. He was often unemployed, usually drunk, and always a real pisser. He scared away friends and boyfriends, handled all the finances, and tried to adopt us despite the fact that our father was still alive and visiting us on a bi-weekly basis. For 11 years, he played daddy. He wanted to be daddy. Daddy of boys who liked sports and tools, but still. Then, when I was 16, my mom made me pack up my room into a laundry hamper and I lived with my dad for a while and TigerCat got shipped off to our rich aunt’s where she was put on a macrobiotic diet and slapped for eating chocolate. 3 months later, I helped our mother break the locks in our house so that we could move out while CoorsLight was at work. TigerCat flew back home to our new shack in the ghetto, and we started anew. CoorsLight immediately found a new single-mom and moved in with her (in fact, he had been dating her before we moved out). His new gf had a son. CoorsLight’s life dream had been achieved and TigerCat and I got the parental heave-ho except for the occasional awkward visit to his new house where his gf would get drunk and yell at us, and the random email showing us pics of what I assume was their secret honeymoon.

Well…that was less fun to write than I had hoped. But I bet you understand why I’m a bitter fuck a little bit more than before!

Anyway, I hadn’t heard from CoorsLight in about a year and a half…but on my birthday, an e-mail popped up in my inbox. It was from CoorsLight and the subject was “Happy Birthday!!”. Oh my god, he remembered! He hasn’t forgotten about his ex-step-daughter! I opened the email…

It was blank. Not a single word was written inside.

Huh. Tricky. Tricky, indeed. Well, maybe he accidentally deleted the text. He’s not exactly internet-savvy. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and wrote him back a long update on my life, complete with pictures. I waited for a response…

A week later, my sister received an email from CoorsLight on her birthday. The subject: “Happy Birthday!!”. She opened it…

It was blank.

Huh. Tricky. Tricky, indeed.

It probably would have been easier to just write “FUCK YOU!!!” in the email, but I suppose leaving it blank gives the same message: “You are unimportant. I have a son now. He likes tools. Your mother is a crazy bitch. I hate you by association. My drunk wife says Hi and ‘fffffack off!’. I sent you an email on your birthday so that I could sleep at night. In my big bed in my big house that I bought with the money I stole from your college funds. CoorsLight”.

I never received a reply to my email.

We do not enjoy our birthdays.

Don’t feel guilty for laughing at this post. You should laugh. I laugh. Then I cry. Then I cut myself.

Kidding! I don’t laugh.

Kidding again! This is fun. I’m really quite normal considering – don’t you think?


1 comment:

thehippie said...

hahahahahahaha, you and your fucked up family. they're in my good books as long as your bobba keeps bringing me jam.