Why I Love My Sister In Law...Most of the Time
My sister in law is known to most of you as the gorgeous and talented CDHSarah.
She's not actually my sister-in-law...by various reckoning she is "my old roommate who lived with me in the house out East"', "my former landlord who let me rent her guest house last summer", "my brother", or "my ex-boyfriend's blood-brothers' wife". For purposes of not getting sent to the psych ward, I tend to call her my "sister-in-law", which only confuses people if they know my parents adopted 2 girls. "Water brother" confuses just about everyone, so we stick wth SIL.
Margaret Mead and slight intoxication made me think about our weird relationship last night. She went over one culture that was very Martian, in that your mother's sister was "mother" -- everyone from your mother's generation was your mother, everyone from your own "brother" or "sister", somehow, because of the way the marriage system is set up.
In my own artificially created family, the first one, I grew up knowing that you adopted people because you love them and want them to be in your family. I don't think my parents expected that I would end up with quite so many mothers and brothers -- and one sister-in-law.
"In-law" has become a dirty word, a way of separating the family-members-of-choice from the family-members-born-to-the-same-bloodline. But my first family didn't have that. The CDH is my sis-in-law because we don't quite have the relationship my raised-sister and I have. But I see CDHSarah more, have more fun with her, think she probably knows more about my adult life, than my raised-sister.
Which in turn reminds me of another Margaret Mead explanation, this time about the tribe of headhunters she visited in which aggression was considered the norm for both sexes, but usually took the form of highly stylized insults, especially where women were concerned.
People who don't know us sometimes think CDHSarah and I are always in a fight, but in reality we're usually just in the middle of a vast and invisible game of one-upwomanship, the rules of which are so arcane I'm not sure we even know the finer points. I correct her on some point of usage and somehow later in the day she gets a "you can't correct me any more today" concession and proceeds to use it to her advantage. But I love Sarah, to death, would never hurt her, would cheerfuly trade my life for hers -- and yet threaten to either stab her in the eyeball with a pen, choke her to death, or beat her until she cries, at least once a day. If they ever subpoenaed my IM records in the suspicious death of CDHSarah, I would be totally convicted on circumstantial evidence...and I'm a pacifist. It's like a cat fight (between two Leos) all the time...and when one of us gets clawed for real, usually through misconstruance, there's usually half an hour of soothing and the human equivalent of cleaning necks. I can't remember the last time I went to bed mad at Sarah. When I go to bed mad, it's really bad. Otherwise it's just the game.
While I've been off work, I've been leaving my Yahoo! messenger open at night so that when CDHSarah gets to her job she can IM me. (I forget to sign things back on, but my computer is so ancient I can't really launch five things at startup without hurting the poor thing.) This often means that I either wake up to the dulcet sounds of the Yahoo messenger alert, or stumble in to the computer and phone area of the apartment to find a series of morning messages from the lady herself.
We watched Mean Girls last night, and then Saved, again, because we're dorks. But the movie does get one thing right; all people are mean. All people have meanness inside of them. Instead of being evil Cruellas de Vil, CDHSarah and I have just turned it into a no-keepsies game of mean, instead of a soul-destroying game of mean.
Part of the game centers around IM. At least once throughout the day, Sarah IMs me about wanting to be at home with her Alice, the half Netherland-dwarf, half English-spot bunny that possesses the power of cuteness to unending degree. That is my cue to begin today's Tale of No More Alice Ever, which is always different, always wildly unlikely (so that there is never a chance of it being taken seriously), and always culminates in a triumphal IM of "No more Alice...ever", followed by a hearty NOOOOOOOO!
Here's the slighly edited version of part of today's IMs with CDHSarah. (To understand this fully, you need to know that I slipped a note into her pack of cigarettes yesterday that said REMIND PARCE ABOUT REBATE, and I should have known better. Bobby is the creepy stranger who knocked on the door last night who we think was completely flying on uppers and whom we did not allow in. E Moet is the name in which my fake doctorate was issued.)
cdh sarah: SEND IN YOUR GODDAMN REBATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
cdh sarah: there.
cdh sarah: get up you lazy liberal you. cooooome on. geeeeeeet up.
cdh sarah: you gots ta MAIL IN YOUR DAMN REBATE, REMEMBER?
cdh sarah: MAIL IN YOUR REBATE E MOET.
cdh sarah: NOW
cdh sarah: RIGHT NOW.
cdh sarah: E MOET, I AM FAITHFULLY REMINDING YOU TO MAIL IN YOUR DAMN REBATE!
cdh sarah: NOW!
cdh sarah: EEEEEEMMMMMMMOOOOOOEEEEEEEEETTTTTTT
cdh sarah: GO MAIL IN YOUR REBATE EMOET.
This is the point at which I got up and realized I had missed a phone call from my case worker.
mine: haate
cdh sarah: it's your fault for making me remind you.
cdh sarah: now love, for meeting tonight shall be fine
cdh sarah: Do I get a doggie biscuit?
mine: no and i'n busy
cdh sarah: oh, tw, I meant to tell you this. It's rather important for meeting tonight
cdh sarah: MAIL IN YOUR REBATE
cdh sarah: I'll leave you be for now
mine: please die, and then remember that pagan coffeehouse is saturday
cdh sarah: i will do the latter, not the former. sorry.
cdh sarah: maybe next time you'll think twice before telling me to remind you about something
cdh sarah:
mine: dude, I am not in the mood to deal with you
mine: and anyway YOU OWE ME $10
cdh sarah: yeah
cdh sarah: and your point?
cdh sarah: ok, well if you arent in the mood to deal with me I'll ttyl
mine: I was kidding, but am on phone with disability lady
cdh sarah: ok
cdh sarah: lemme know when ur done
mine: so u can remind me about my rebate? no thanx
cdh sarah: (obnoxious smiley with lots of teeth)
mine: ok, i'm off the phone
mine: the disability counsellor called ALICE too
mine: we were on 3 way calling
cdh sarah: what did ALICE say?
mine: that she couldn't take it anymore
cdh sarah: did she tell you how she collapsed on my boobie this morning and refused to get up?
mine: she was overeating, binging and purging, and on crystal meth
cdh sarah: what?
cdh sarah: ALICE!
mine: she's done up on about 5 grams of crystal
cdh sarah: poor poor alice
cdh sarah: she must've run out and collapsed in exaustion this morning when she REFUSED to let me get up and go to work!
mine: she says she hates it when you go because she can't help but invite bobby over and smoke, smoke, smoke
mine: she was pretty sketched
cdh sarah: oh shit, i forgot about bobby.
cdh sarah: I'm still freaked out about that.
cdh sarah: poor poor alice. I must go home and help her through detox
mine: sorry
mine: she's been taken inpatient
mine: no more alice ever
cdh sarah: NO!
That's how it goes, with me and my sister-in-law. This is what we do for fun. At least, it's fun until we have to explain to the waiter that the chorus of "Fuck you" that he walked up into isn't really the hint that we're about to dive across the tables and start clawing at one another's faces and jewelry. (What's better is when people think we're dykes having a public breakup. That one scores points for both of us.)
If people have to fight, and I think they do, I think our way is best. And Alice has been taken away by the Homeland Security Agency and the Secret Service. Just so you know.
posted by Pope Lizbet @ 2:00 PM
14 comments
14 Comments:
*nods* that's quite fantastic. Especially the bit about the meth-addicted bunny. *grins*I love it when insults and poking at each other is just part of the relationship. Keeps one on one's toes.
Like the relationship the boys have, but with less slurs on sexual potency and the fidelity of our respective mothers, exactly.
Except in the case of your roommate...because, Strong Sad.
*nods emphatically* yes.
In-fucking-deed.
But, despite the Strong Sad-ness...I do love me some Boys.
I love the boys too...and I really wish "I fucked your mom" would catch on as an acceptable, all-purpose insult.
Me too!!!!!! but it absolutely has to be the whole "Fucked your mom."
"Fucked your harder"
"Ye-es!"
- exchange.
Food addiction is better than meth addiction, I guess.
LadyA, I think the best ever was when Shifty's mom was drunk and asleep in Shifty's room, and Philtar was sitting there telling Shifty not to check his vidcam in the morning unless he wanted to see that...."I fucked your mom."
The ones who have met my mom? Don't say that to me. Because, no.
So I guess it's not a good idea to say that Alice fucked your mom?
While smoking meth?
And doing the naked bunny dance around Eldest Kitty?
Eldest Kitty is so gorked from being asked to diet for the first time in her life that I could not be responsible for Alice's safety. Alice could probably outrun her, but I wouldn't count on it.
And if the Kitten doesn't stop being in heat soon I am going to go out of my mind.
You haven't seen the hustle the fat cat can muster when it involves getting more food. She broke the sound barrier coming after the tail end of my sandwich yesterday.
Pet Deathmatch! EK fucked your mom.
Your disgust means I win. Cheers!
Shiiiiiit, I am literally crying. I am sitting at my desk, laughing so hard that the tears are streaming down my face. EK is a punkrockbadass! More EK and Alice stories? Please???
*rubs hands in eager anticipation*
I'm looking forward to the stories. Bunny on nose? Great comic mental image.
Bad Cat and Good Cat have developed the rather endearing habit of presenting their asses to my mother when she visits. No, I don't mean once or twice. I mean every times she gets near them. They walk up to her and act like they're going to ask for skritches...then they do a brilliant bait and switch. She ends up with a face full of ass every time. I know dogs do this all of the time and cats do it sometimes but this has gotten kinda pathological. It's extra funny b/c my mom is thoroughly grossed out by asses. She really hates when they do this. I am reduced to a soggy mass of hiccupy laughter every time they do it, due to her outraged response and their innocent expressions. Good Cat is living up to his nickname and doesn't do it nearly as often as Bad Cat; she never misses an opportunity. I, of course, pretend to be astounded (ass-tounded?) that she is less than fond of Bad Cat.
The Fat Elder Kitty's butt issues are going away, but I'm still REALLY glad she doesn't have that particular habit.
The cats aren't being particularly cute lately, except MK falling asleep on top of the monitor, starting to dream, and falling off, which has been happening all week long (I have some nasty scratches on my legs from his helpless flailing as he falls and wakes up simultaneously, but it's so funny to see the look of indignation, surprise and not-right-with-the-world that he gets once he hits the chair and realizes what has just happened to him...hurts his dignity, I think.
And CDHSarah's bunnies are the same as ever...I totally blame Sir Williams for the fact that we never really managed to get back at the book after ten when he came out of the bunny room and we tried to get back to work and ended up just having to deal with him every five minutes -- trying to steal her athame, trying to drink apple juice, trying to overturn the trash......you get the idea.
Oh, and in non-pet related funny, a lady at the gas station asked if CDHSarah and I were twins today, and we answered, in unison, "Sisters in law".
She looked at us kind of funny.
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