Discussions at lunch
Oh goody. Let’s get together with family from out of space ( England ) and let’s be all civilized for a change. Let’s talk about wine and How Am I Doing.
I can’t stand it man. Every year the same fucking story. Someone is coming for a visit and I have to smile. My mom usually panics inwardly and she pisses me off with shit like: “Don’t fart when we are at the table”, “don’t make any strange noises and laugh” or “your cousins are not blow-up sex dolls”. Jesus! OK!Then there is The Question, which they always ask when we’re at the eating table. “So, what are you doing now…?” I-AM-EATING-YOU-OLD-HAG. What’s it look like I’m doing? For fuck’s sake man. Everytime. I know they mean What Am I Doing with My Life but THAT’S even worse.
Relative #1: So Alex, what are you doing now?
Me: (trying to smile all nicely) I’m eating, heh.
Relative #1: No, I mean with your life.
Me: I don’t know. Nothing? (smile)
Relative #2: That’s not what we heard. (smile & wink)
Rel #1: Yes, our dad told us you are into films.
Me: I guess so. I like watching movies with, you know, stuff.
Rel #1: Any ones in particular?
Me: Errr… I like the ones with ninjas and zombies and stuff like that but I hate spaceships and space.
Rel #2: Oh!
(Rel #1 and #2 look at each other and sigh. I pretend I haven’t noticed it.)
Rel #1: I know what you mean about space. We think sci-fi films are rather awful as well.
Rel #2: Except Solaris!!!
Rel #1: Oh yes that was divine. The undercurrent messages about the human psyche and blah blah blah.
Rel #2: And don’t forget the blah blah blah.
(At this point I started stuffing massive amounts of bread in my mouth and chewed on it without swallowing)
Rel #1: Blah blah blah…
Rel #2: yadda yadda…
Rel #1: Don’t you agree Alex?
Me: Hm? (and I let the slimy doe drip from my mouth and chin in boredom)
(Rel #1 and #2 exchange looks with disgust and shut up; leaving me alone.)
Next time people ask me about What Am I Doing with My Life I will kill them. I hate it more than I hate the fact that I am doing nothing with my life. I suck at everything and most people I meet want me dead. Leave me alone.
Then the meal gradually comes to an end and everybody starts saying: “Lovely”
- “Ohh it was lovely aunt Helen”
-“Yes everything was lovely”
-“Lovely-lovely”Shut up already. There’s absolutely nothing relating food with love. Food cannot be lovely assholes… that reminds me. Another phrase that awakes the murderer inside me is: “Love goes through the stomach”. Goddamn it! It pisses me off. The only way this shitty stream of words can have a meaning is if you are a semen-swallowing slut! Are you a semen-swallowing slut? Do you want my “loving” semen in your stomach? If that’s the case… email me please ;)
No! Don’t do that! What the fuck is wrong with me!? Shut up penis!
Note to self : Must…masturbate…more.
Anyway… Fuck off!