The Art of Bore
2003-06-10, 3:04 p.m.

Sun Tzu ain't got nothin' on me.

I have nothing to report--as my life and me, in particular, are one great big bore. But seeing as Andreas told me I need to move past my menses--and though I normally do not heed a word that lunatic says, this time I agreed.

So the greatest excitement in my life of late is that Matt's sister Missy got kicked out of the house. I may have mentioned this before, but Matt's parents are more Looney Toons than Porky Pig and they have a perverse overexcitement about kicking people out of their home. Matt got kicked out when he was 20ish or so, basical because he was dating me. Yeah. So that was kewl. And now, Missy is getting kicked out because she's a "little bitch" (to quote Marlene), but in this case, it's actually true. Or at least it sounds that way from Marlene's report, but who knows what kind of reality base she's working from.

Sadly, I am despised by my in-laws. I had always imagined having a wonderful relationship with my mother-in-law. Going shopping. Getting advice. Being bossom buddies. But that was not to be. It has subsided some in the many years that we have been married, but secretly they still loathe me. Except when they loathe their children more. But at least it's thinly veiled now, instead of right out in the open like it used to be. You think I'm paranoid? Good guess. I usually am. But the following story illustrates that these are facts, not fancies.

My first Christmas away from my parents, first Christmas spent with the Joneses. I didn't mind that I got dish towels and table cloths as my gifts. I mean, fuck you. But I don't really care. That wasn't my beef. The problem arose with Matt's sister Missy. She used to be a large child, in that she was less than 5 feet tall and weighed about 160 at age 13. When I met her, she was a miserable couch potato with the venom of a python and a mouth of s street whore. But then one miracle day, she got sick and dropped 20 pounds and re-invented herself as a sweet petite. Her senior year, this particular Christmas, Marlene commented that all of Missy's friends were coming to the school play because Missy had to say "Damn!" in it and no one had ever heard her swear before. OK, we'll let that slide. But when Marlene applied her revisionist history, as is her wont, saying that Missy had NEVER sworn, Matt laughed out loud and adamantly corrected the statement. This boorish story is dreadful enough without me giving even more details. But, I said nothing, except, "Miss, I love you. I love the wonderful person you've turned into, but you used to swear like a truck driver."

Somehow, Operation Ruin Christmas ensued. Enormous fight followed, and when I say enormous, I'm understating it a bit. People bawling, screaming, throwing shit, etc. etc. I was panicked. I had never seen anything like this. I told Matt to go up and apologize , but appparently his sorry didn't really do the trick. Matt, his sister, and his mother were upstairs having it out in the most vocal of ways, while Matt's father, his youngest sister, and I stayed downstairs. When it really seemed like it was getting beyond beyond, I said to his dad, "Bill. Should we do something about this?" At which point he said, "Goddammit Matt!" and ran up the stairs. When everyone finally came downstairs, somehow everyone figured it out to be my fault. Whaaaaat, you say? No need to read back, no I didn't do anything. But when Marlene is done being angry with Matt but isn't really done being angry, I'm the favorite target. Yell, yell, yell in my face. Telling me I'm a horrible person and whatnot. Matt stood for this for about 7 seconds, at which point, he told me to get our pooch and go out to the car. We were leaving, said my beloved, if his parents dared to speak to me so. More yelling, Matt comes out with our bags, and we don't speak to his family for two months or so. Finally, I tell Matt that they just overreacted and that he can't ignore his family, because, well, they're his family. So finally there was a reconciliation.

Next year, at my house for Christmas, everything was nice nice. But the following year we return. And when during dinner, Matt and Missy started to bicker, I got up from the table, cleared the plates, and then took Sadie for a long ass walk. I wanted NOTHING to do with this volcano that was about to erupt. Smart, says you. Yes, I like to think so. But when I returned a half and hour later, I hear Marlene scream, "This is all because of that manipulative bitch of a wife of yours!" OK, the first time, shame on you. Second time, balls to the wall. I fling open the door and give the whole fam damily what for. OK, maybe it was more like, "Fuck you, you crazy fucking bitch!" Maybe. But come ON. How can I be the brunt of it again? Well, Matt's mom didn't appreciate my sentiment. Well, it more was like, she bum rushed me and pushed me with all her might. But being that I'm about 19 feet taller than her, she didn't really get the desired effect. So then, I was thrown out of the house. With the threat of, "If you don't get out of this house right this second, I will call the police!" Matt grabbed our stuff, and again, on Christmas night we retreated to the sanctuary of our home. Matt wouldn't return his parents called, sent back their letters, and swore they were dead to him for treating me that way. Finally, after eight or so months, I convinced him to call them back and talk it out.

Subsequent Christmases had equal drama, at least these times, not directed at me. But damn me, I think sometimes, why did I ever encourage him to reconnect with such madmen? Despite all of this, I love his family very much. They are vastly voolish, but that's part of their appeal to me. It's like watching Itchy and Scratchy on Christmas Day.

And if that's wrong. I don't wanna be right. But if that's exciting, I'll take boring anyday.