July 11, 2005
Paranoia Thee Destroyah
As you may know, three years ago, I bought a dress, cut some cake, moved all my shit -- again -- and instantly became the stepmother of two teenaged girls.
(Send Hallmark sympathy ecards to wenchie@piratewench.org)
Since then, the three little words I crave hearing aren't "I love you." They're "You're not crazy." Those words, said by friends, family and fellow stepparents, have kept me from drink. Have kept me from divorce. And most importantly, have kept me from having to dig shallow graves in the forest preserve under cover of darkness.
"Um, am I crazy, or is a black, spandex catsuit not exactly appropriate church attire?"
"YOU'RE NOT CRAZY!"
See how that works? Very, very important!
But other times, the key to keeping me feeling "normal" and "sane" is to make the people around me just as bat-shitty as I am. You know -- so I still look good in comparison.
I have suceeded in doing this to Anne's Mom. With no apparent effort whatsoever on my part, which is an added bonus.
You know how, when you get an email from someone's work address, it'll say on the bottom something to the effect of:
This e-mail and any attachments contain private, privileged and confidential information. If you have received this transmission in error, please immediately notify me and do not disclose, copy, or distribute this information. Thank you.
Well, on the bottom of all her emails to Anne (which Anne occassionally forwards to me for the hilarious content), Anne's Mom adds the following disclaimer:
Not for blog publication.
Now, I don't know if I'm legally beholden to that, but I tend to respect that request from most people. I mean, if Anne or Billi said it, I'd laugh in their face, blog it anyway, blog about them not wanting me to blog it, and then mock them in my blog. But not Anne's Mom. She's a nice lady. She loves her dogs. She puts up with Anne. So I gotta respect that.
That doesn't mean, however, that I don't take sheer delight in the fact that I've managed to make her completely paranoid. It's been months since I mentioned her that one time -- okay, twice -- and yet, such is her fear of becoming blog-fodder that she routinely adds a no-blog clause to each and every email. She's now one giant step closer to being as paranoid as I am.
My work here is done.
And Anne's Mom certainly never asked her, "Why do you need a Blackberry if you already have an iPod?"
Comments
You're not crazy honey.
Black catsuit for church? Aw HELL no! (Maybe rum, for you, would help?)
Love ya toots.
Posted by: Scarlett Cyn at July 11, 2005 11:52 AM
So if your not crazy and their not crazy and I'm not crazy...
...how are any of us supposed to know what crazy is?
oh wait...
...I am crazy... never mind
Not for blog publication(grin)
Posted by: Mordecai at July 11, 2005 02:42 PM
And then you surround yourself with people like us! Wow. You really ARE the normal one in the group!
Posted by: Queen of Ass at July 12, 2005 10:18 AM
Weird. My Mother-in-Law just told me a story virtually identical to the first half of your story.
Including the catsuit part.
Weird.
Posted by: Max Hufnagel at July 12, 2005 02:55 PM