Sunday, December 20, 2015

Secret Santa and the Holiday Shit Show

Starring the belligerent asshole who ruins the whole thing for everyone.

Everyone was getting ready to leave and I put on my coat, but was stopped on my way down to the door. A couple of the guys said that one of them was being somewhat ornery. Then I saw a hand trying to get the door back open and thought it was a joke. It was not. Let's call that particular gentleman Wedge...one of the simplest tools known to man. Soldier tossed up my boots; nobody thought the episode would last long. 

I don't remember exactly how long it took or if there was much of an issue, but myself and another girl walked out at the same time. Soldier got me settled into the car and went to help a couple of other guys help get Wedge into his car. I sat there for a few minutes and watched while Wedge tried to fight these three guys. Then I got irritated. I got out and kind of got in the middle, knowing he wasn't going to do anything to me. Needless to say, Soldier wasn't thrilled. 
Wedge just kept trying to get people to fight or hit him, and of course the guys fed into that. At one point one of the guys pushed him on the ground; there was a gross, dull thud and there was some blood from a cut on his forehead. I wouldn't at all be surprised if he got a concussion. 

Here's the "best" part of the story: Wedge and his wife had brought their two kids to the party. (Please notice that I made a conscious decision to put those quotation marks there. I fully understand the correct use of them, and their intent is to be sarcastic. Just in case anyone doesn't know how to use quotation marks properly. ...I feel strongly about it.)
So the kids are sitting in the van with all this going on. The baby was sleeping, but the other kid was awake and definitely old enough to know what was going on. Wedge's wife thought she could calm him down and asked if myself and the other girl would get the kids home. Neither of us had our phones (GPS), so we were following another car that would contain Wedge and his wife. According to the plan. 
By this time, I had completely lost track of (and interest in) Wedge's whereabouts. As we followed the other car, we came upon Wedge and the guys a block or so away...apparently he had tried to run away, though I'm not sure what he planned to do. After a struggle, they got him into the car and our two guys set about following us to the house. We tried to stay calm and reassuring for the kids, but I was pretty pissed about the whole situation. 

As we were driving along, we came to a red light and the car in front of us was shaking...which would have been funny in a different situation. They turned before the light turned green, and the other girl and I assumed something bad was happening. But we all made it to the house and we took the kids to bed while the guys wrestled with Wedge. Finally they got him inside and pinned on the couch. I stayed in his face and just talked to him, while the guys still tried to push it.
In my opinion, one of the biggest issues in situations like this is that people freak out. It makes everyone very tense, adrenaline stays high, and they get the reaction they want. When I was working with individuals who had developmental disabilities, our training was to stay calm when our clients were having behaviors. (Still have no idea why they called it that. Usually behaving means good, but that meant bad, sometimes very bad.) 

As one of the guys was leaving, he punched Wedge in the balls. And after an initial flinch, he started laughing. That part was a little unnerving. That's obviously someone who's not in their right mind, but I firmly believe alcohol doesn't fundamentally change a person...it's not a hallucinogenic or anything. Wedge's wife finally took over and pinned him, and the guys put zip ties on his hands and ankles so he'd stop. How fucked up is that? 
That was when he took it one step too far: he started telling his wife how fat she was. I wanted to bash him in the face for that. I sufficed with just covering his mouth; he started trying to lick and bite me. That irritated Soldier but I had on leather mittens and a wool coat so I didn't care, and I think it made him angrier that it wasn't bothering me. Really I had to keep myself from laughing about it. 

Around that time the wife said she could handle it and the guys decided it wasn't a threat anymore. The guys walked out without a word but I got a parting gift from Wedge: "Fuck you Laura." I reciprocated, then told him I hate him to the core of my soul, and that his wife is better than him. One last parting shot. 

The next day I texted her to see how things were going, and she was very apologetic. One part that sticks out in my mind is her kind of giggling and asking what she should get out of the situation once he was sobered up. I was marginally disgusted, I think it was in my tone when I told her she shouldn't try to get anything; she should walk away. One a basic level, I don't understand abusive relationships. I don't believe he's like that generally, and she did say she'd only seen him like that once before...but let me tell you a story about the one time I questioned my safety from a guy: I had the slight feeling I may get injured, and I got out of the situation. And that's the end of the tale, because in my book of fairy tales you don't get another chance to make me feel that way. She may not have the highest self-esteem, but she should at least think of the kids with something like that. 

I really have to start blogging this stuff when it happens, I'm getting angry again in rethinking it. But there's your dose of insanity for the Christmas season...Happy Holidays!

Thursday, December 17, 2015

Secret Santa

Santa stays secret when you're the one who brought the shitty present

Raise your hand if you've missed the crazy stories. This one's (well, two, I think) for you!

For the past few years, one of Soldier's coworkers has held a Secret Santa Christmas party, and this year's was held last night. There's always a bit of anxiety with getting a Secret Santa present unless everyone knows each other really well. Soldier has only been working with this group for a couple of months, and there were still some of them I hadn't met, so we were both a little nervous.

We drew two names, one guy and one girl. Soldier had an idea for the guy, but he was leaving the other for me. I was a bit irritated; I'd only met her once. I went through all the girly stuff at the store and put together a nice spa bag for the $50 limit. And with that kind of limit, you kind of assume that everyone should get pretty nice, thoughtful gifts. I'm sure you can see where this is going.

We got there and had some food and drinks...which reminds me...there were these buffalo chicken stuffed muffins that I need to get the recipe for. They were scrumptious. So much yumminess in my mouth.
Everyone was chatting and having a good time, I think we'd all been there for a couple of hours by the time we opened presents. Someone awful decided we all had to go one by one. Oh yay. I was toward the end of the group, dreading my turn because everyone would be staring at me. There were some really cool gifts, some funny ones, and a couple that were a bit more inappropriate. My turn came and Soldier had to help me get the ribbons off...they were tied really tightly and I was already nervous from people looking at me.

I got the wrappings off to reveal...a bottle of Riesling. I don't mean to sound ungrateful (too late, I do now!), but it's about a $10 bottle. I know that somebody had asked Soldier for tips or ideas for me, and he'd said that I'm girly. Not a lot to go on, but really? A bottle of cheap white wine was the best possible option? Not gonna lie, I was kinda disappointed. Well, I can't be a frigid bitch so I tried to act like it was cool. Suh not kewl.

***

Back to eating and drinking. At one point, the Hostess decided that we were new bffs and we needed to chat. Well okay, everybody likes to be liked. So we went to her room and sat on her gloriously comfy bed. But then she started talking about her love triangle...or square. I already knew part of the story, but I really don't want to be in the midst of all the details.
Here's the short version: there was a guy (duh) she was with...I'm not sure if it was actual romantic or just sex.
Honestly, when I met this guy I deemed him a Frat Boy. Soldier told me I was wrong, but he totally is. He's good looking and is constantly working out, has a constantly pouty look on his face, kind of mumbles everything he says, and is angsty. He's a Frat Boy.
So Girl B came into the picture and became the girlfriend. I'm not sure if there was a bit of dabbling with both women but whatever. Girl B was dismissed in a rather public manner, and I believe Hostess stepped back in. Someone else wanted to start dating Girl B and respectfully asked Frat Boy if he was okay with it. He was. But then he decided that he wanted her back. His plan to win her was by berating her. And she agreed so he'd stop. Because that's how healthy relationships work.

Hostess is telling me that now the Frat Boy is bothering her and she just wants it to stop. Good God it was uncomfortable. I didn't know what to say, especially because I've heard different versions of the situation.

While we were chatting, some of the guys kept coming in and telling us to get back to the party. Then one of the guys, in kind of a weird way, decided he would stand guard so we could talk. After a while Hostess started feeling ill, and everyone was getting ready to leave. The only thing left was to pack up and head home...or so I thought.

Monday, December 7, 2015

Etiquette and the Modern Wedding

Please come help us celebrate the time, money, stress, and love we've put into our marriage ceremony...that you'll still find something wrong with. 

Have I bitched about wedding planning enough? I've been putting off the invite list stuff and finally delved into it today. I have so many annoyances with it. 

I would be fine with having about 20 people at the wedding. Immediate family, close friends, done. Granted, I knew Soldier's mom would want to invite a lot of people. I was a little aghast when we finally got her list though...I think it had around 180 people on it. Well that was a big no (although a handful of them were already on our list), but I made Soldier go through it because I didn't feel it was my place to make cuts. I haven't had the energy or guts to send the updated list back out, and I don't relish that day. 

I did hear one end of a conversation Soldier had with the 'rents about how there was an "obligation" for them to invite people. I may have stared open-mouthed, aghast and possibly a little ragey. I'll be the first to admit that I'm a bit callous, but I don't feel that there's at all an obligation to invite anyone to a personal, intimate event. Plus, whose wedding is it again? In her defense, Mama-in-Law has offered to pay for it. However, to me, that means I might have to give up some control, which you all know I'm not prepared for. Seriously, it's a little concerning sometimes. 

Update: it's about 3:30 in the afternoon and I've opened a bottle of wine. At least I made it past noon?

Soldier and I made an agreement that this is a big deal, we want to focus on our life together, and we want to share it with people we know and love. For a while, I wasn't even sure I was going to invite all of my aunts and uncles. I think it might be out of the ordinary; we've never been super close with extended family. On my dad's side, there was a bit of a falling out a few years ago and he hasn't spoken with his siblings a whole lot since then. My mum's side is a bit trickier: for a long time her sisters didn't want much to do with her. (There's a whole family history there, don't think my mom's anything less than amazing.) A while back they all started to catch back up and make up for lost time, so she asked me to invite them, if only to make the gesture. I'm not sure I've ever met my aunts, but I'm good with sending the invitation, and I'd be happy to have them there to begin a relationship. And that's about it. The number on my parent's list was around 10 or 12. That I can live with. 

Now I'm getting around to collecting addresses and figuring out the correct way to write them on the envelopes and everything and you know what? Why? Who cares? I'm over here stressing out over the Mr/Mrs/Ms, the Dr, the correct way to add significant others and children, aaand cue the auto-immune that heartless bitch. 
And, unfortunately, I'll continue to stress, because I'm sure I'll get shit from somebody. 

On a happier note, all is right in the world because Soldier made me a freaking giraffe onesie. This is why you marry someone.