Stay Frosty gents. This one is going to set your rage-o-meter to 11.
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/09/22/fashion/the-messy-kitchen-parking-spot-war.html?ref=style&_r=0
"My husband had moved to our farm on Lopez Island in the San Juan
Islands of Washington with our two dogs to pursue his dream of being a
homesteader, changing our marriage into a long-distance arrangement with
occasional weekend visits"
Read: My husband, realizing he couldn't divorce me without impoverishing himself, decided voluntarily to impoverish himself in exchange for moving way the hell away.
"Then in May, the school year ended and my daughter came home for the
summer. After being away for so long, she could barely wait to see her
boyfriend. He moved into her bedroom the night she arrived and hardly
ever left, except to attend his last few classes of high school.
The two of them were so enamored of each other, I didn’t have the heart
to separate them. I assumed they’d soon grow bored with seeing each
other every day and he’d go home. This didn’t happen.
The biggest problem was that my daughter and her boyfriend brought with
them a level of messiness I had grown unaccustomed to. They shed
clothing like dogs shed fur, peppering the apartment with sweatshirts,
T-shirts and underwear. They preferred my shower to hers and soon the
drain was clogged with hair.
While I was out of town on business, they moved into my bedroom, too; I
have a king-size bed and they found it roomier. They produced mounds of
laundry, garbage and recycling. The water and electricity bills both
shot up."
Read: "Because I never taught my daughter about boundaries, she fucked me over in every way while her boyfriend did the same to her, literally. Because she thinks of me as a friend and not as her mother, she and her boyfriend never learned what respect means and are comfortable enough around me to be fucking slobs. Because he came inside her and not on my sheets, I accepted that they would use my bed for this. Good thing I'm so nonjudgemental, because my sheets smell like Sea World.
The boyfriend IS asian, so it might be discriminatory to complain. I mean, that wouldn't be celebrating diversity.
“Liberal mother syndrome?” I said. “It’s probably a reaction to my own experience.” I was raised in a conservative Midwestern family by a mother whose worst
fear was that one of her four daughters would get pregnant out of
wedlock. Nothing, short of maybe our dying, could have been worse. Even
when we had reached college age and were all responsibly taking the
pill, we still weren’t allowed to sleep with our boyfriends at her
house."
The poor, poor lady. Her mother had boundaries and demanded the respect due a parent. What a raging bitch her mom must have been. Jesus, I bet she made her daughters clean, too.
“I’m not your dog!” I screamed. “Don’t ever call me that or park in my spot again.”
“It’s not your spot,” my daughter said.
“As long as I’m the one paying for it, it is!” I hollered. “If you want to pay for it, then we’ll talk.”
Blown away by my rage, the boyfriend gathered his clothes, put on his
Nikes and went home. Later that night, I sat down my glowering daughter
and outlined the rules of engagement: The boyfriend was welcome to stay
over, but only one or two nights a week. They were to clean up after
themselves. My bathroom and bedroom were off limits, and he was never to
park in my spot again.
I guess this is where we're supposed to give her a participation trophy just for doing her fucking job. Too bad everyone else does it when their kid is 3.
2 bucks says the girl is studying Art or Education. I think Women's studies is out because she was spreading for her boyfriend on mommy's mattress.
If you're excuse me, I'm going to go out on deck and air-punch some imaginary hippies.
I'm glad I work on the water. I don't have to tolerate people like this. I just really wish that they didn't exist.
