If you text someone's housephone instead of their mobile, you can't complain if the wrong person reads your message. Can you?
It wasn't the content of the message that I take issue with as such (she met someone on the internet, then on meeting in real life told him she loved him and couldn't live without him - hardly first-date material) but that the end of the message was "can't wait to see you".
Can't wait to see him? Really? I knew he'd told her that we're going to London for a romantic Valentines-anniversary-Arsenal weekend and I hope sincerely she won't take that as an invitation to fawn all over him and make pointed little remarks about how miserable she is without him, and how wicked I am for stealing him away.
She doesn't have a leg to stand on really, as she left her parental home at 15 (pregnant with him, if that doesn't just say it all) and he stayed til 22, so she's had a good seven years more than she's entitled to. I can only hope and pray that he stands up to her and tells her that this is a couples weekend and not a familial visit.
Plus, after the Christmas fiasco, I doubt I could bite my tongue with her. What's wrong with the meat, indeed!!
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Monday, 18 August 2008
No Escape
It's been over a month since I felt compelled to post here, but even from hundreds of miles away the good old MIL is getting right on my tits.
One of the things I always hated most about her was the loudness of her voice, as if she is partially deaf and can't hear herself properly. Unfortunately she is not deaf at all and so can hear even the quietest of conversations from behind at least three concrete walls. However, this does mean that I get to listen in on her phone conversations with the other half (and if I didn't there would be no blog).
The other day hosted a ridiculously drawn-out explanation by the OH on how to recover her Facebook password.
"I signed up to facebook and I can't log in."
"Do you remember your password?"
"No."
"Then you need to request your password, and they'll email it to you."
"How do I log into my email?"
"Go to Hotmail and type in your password."
"What's the address?"
"Hotmail.com."
"What?"
"H-O-T-M-A-I-L"
"Dot com?"
"Yes, dot com."
"And I type in my password?"
"Yes."
"It's not working."
"Have you typed in your email address?"
"What's my email address?"
At this stage I lost the will to live. I just live in fear that she will work out how to use facebook and add me, then find out from the OH that I rejected her and I'll get in trouble. Or worse, I'll end up accepting her and she'll start sending me messages.
Oh, God!
One of the things I always hated most about her was the loudness of her voice, as if she is partially deaf and can't hear herself properly. Unfortunately she is not deaf at all and so can hear even the quietest of conversations from behind at least three concrete walls. However, this does mean that I get to listen in on her phone conversations with the other half (and if I didn't there would be no blog).
The other day hosted a ridiculously drawn-out explanation by the OH on how to recover her Facebook password.
"I signed up to facebook and I can't log in."
"Do you remember your password?"
"No."
"Then you need to request your password, and they'll email it to you."
"How do I log into my email?"
"Go to Hotmail and type in your password."
"What's the address?"
"Hotmail.com."
"What?"
"H-O-T-M-A-I-L"
"Dot com?"
"Yes, dot com."
"And I type in my password?"
"Yes."
"It's not working."
"Have you typed in your email address?"
"What's my email address?"
At this stage I lost the will to live. I just live in fear that she will work out how to use facebook and add me, then find out from the OH that I rejected her and I'll get in trouble. Or worse, I'll end up accepting her and she'll start sending me messages.
Oh, God!
Saturday, 5 July 2008
Dear mother in law,
All that time ago, when you cornered us in the kitchen in the middle of the night to tell him how much you hated me - remember what you said? I was a bad influence. I was a stranger in your house. He was running around after me when I might not even be in his life in a week’s time. That night I swore to myself that you would come to regret acting that way, and that sooner or later everyone would leave you and you would die, alone and empty, realising that your actions had driven away everyone you loved.
Well, now it’s two years later, and at this very minute your eldest son, the one who always acted as if he was the mature adult and you the disobedient child, the one who you tried to keep attached to your apron strings until he was middle aged, the one who you drove away with your hatred of the woman he loves is on a coach on a motorway speeding as fast as he can away from you and toward me. He will come and live in my family home, where he is welcomed and loved like a son, and you will see him at Christmas and Easter, if you’re lucky. We will start our life together without you and raise our children together, without you.
I know you blame me for taking him away from you, but this had nothing to do with my actions. You caused this, it was your spite and your venom that made me want to run from you and his undying love that made him come with me. By trying to ruin my life you have ruined your own, and I hope you’re miserable.
You deserve to be.
Yours, your darling daughter in law.
Well, now it’s two years later, and at this very minute your eldest son, the one who always acted as if he was the mature adult and you the disobedient child, the one who you tried to keep attached to your apron strings until he was middle aged, the one who you drove away with your hatred of the woman he loves is on a coach on a motorway speeding as fast as he can away from you and toward me. He will come and live in my family home, where he is welcomed and loved like a son, and you will see him at Christmas and Easter, if you’re lucky. We will start our life together without you and raise our children together, without you.
I know you blame me for taking him away from you, but this had nothing to do with my actions. You caused this, it was your spite and your venom that made me want to run from you and his undying love that made him come with me. By trying to ruin my life you have ruined your own, and I hope you’re miserable.
You deserve to be.
Yours, your darling daughter in law.
Friday, 20 June 2008
Blame & Shame
This was retrieved out of the drafts (and with great difficulty too, the technological whizz that I am) after being walked in on by my brother. I'd rather be caught in coitu than blogging about my dear MIL.
I don't know what made me think of this, as she's half way across the country (thank GOD) but MIL has a serious problem with blame, in that she's desperate to attribute it for everything that goes wrong.
A wee while ago a pint of milk fell off the dining room table and onto the floor, spilling everywhere. Rather than clean it up (or, as is more likely, ask somebody else to clean it up), she stood shouting and asking whose fault it was that it fell off in the first place. "It MUST have been someone, because I only put it there a minute ago! Who walked past here? I was in the sitting room so it CAN'T have been ME."
Much earlier, when the OH and I hadn't been together long, she blamed me for their running out of money the week before they were due to go on holiday. This sparked a huge chain of events which I will chronicle in due course but suffice to say there is a proper reason as to why I hate my mother in law.
I don't know what made me think of this, as she's half way across the country (thank GOD) but MIL has a serious problem with blame, in that she's desperate to attribute it for everything that goes wrong.
A wee while ago a pint of milk fell off the dining room table and onto the floor, spilling everywhere. Rather than clean it up (or, as is more likely, ask somebody else to clean it up), she stood shouting and asking whose fault it was that it fell off in the first place. "It MUST have been someone, because I only put it there a minute ago! Who walked past here? I was in the sitting room so it CAN'T have been ME."
Much earlier, when the OH and I hadn't been together long, she blamed me for their running out of money the week before they were due to go on holiday. This sparked a huge chain of events which I will chronicle in due course but suffice to say there is a proper reason as to why I hate my mother in law.
Saturday, 14 June 2008
A well-deserved break
I am at my parents' with the other half, having a lovely breath of fresh air after the oppressive stench of the MIL.
The morning we left on the coach I had stayed at his, to be closer to the coch station, and while innocently enjoying my soft-boiled eggs her new boyfriend came blundering into the living room in a state of undress. This is the 'boyfriend' whom she denys she has, but who stays at her house and takes her on holidays while she tells him she's not interested. I wonder where he slept?
There really is no decorum to their household, even when guests are round (i.e. me) she thinks nothing of walking around in her nightdress and sometimes not even that. If that were my mum I would die of embarrassment.
On the subject of my mum, she's been going out of her way to make OH feel comfortable here, even though he's here every holiday. She insists on getting him sweets and crisps and pop from Tesco, something she never even does for me. I was unpleasantly reminded of being pointedly not invited to MIL's birthday dinner, even when I offered to pay for myself.
Don't say I don't try, folks.
The morning we left on the coach I had stayed at his, to be closer to the coch station, and while innocently enjoying my soft-boiled eggs her new boyfriend came blundering into the living room in a state of undress. This is the 'boyfriend' whom she denys she has, but who stays at her house and takes her on holidays while she tells him she's not interested. I wonder where he slept?
There really is no decorum to their household, even when guests are round (i.e. me) she thinks nothing of walking around in her nightdress and sometimes not even that. If that were my mum I would die of embarrassment.
On the subject of my mum, she's been going out of her way to make OH feel comfortable here, even though he's here every holiday. She insists on getting him sweets and crisps and pop from Tesco, something she never even does for me. I was unpleasantly reminded of being pointedly not invited to MIL's birthday dinner, even when I offered to pay for myself.
Don't say I don't try, folks.
Monday, 9 June 2008
A difficult weekend
In only two days I have collected a veritable wealth of complaints about the MIL, so much so that I'm surprised I haven't given myself a stomach ulcer.
Saturday afternoon featured the lament that now Big Brother has started, she has to wait until September to go on holiday to avoid missing the evictions. She has even been trying to rope the BF into watching it with her, leading to me having to tell him very firmly that if he starts watching it I will dump him. And I mean it, I will.
Saturday evening, while watching The Queen on DVD, he casually mentioned that his mum was one of those people who lined the streets in floods of tears when Diana died. To this day she thinks it was murder. I realised that 'Big Brother-watching, Express-reading, Diana fanatic' is all that she needs to explain her.
Sunday afternoon was another row about BF not doing the dishes instantly as he finishes eating his tea. I don't even remember the last time she washed up, or the last time I didn't include her dishes in my washing. The whirlwind of nagging that accompanies her entrance to the house deserves a blog of its own.
Sunday evening somehow turned into a maths competition, and on the rare occasions when she got an answer right in the quickest time it was: "YESSS!! I AM CLEVERER THAN YOU!! HAHAHAHAHAAAA!!" and for another two hours it was: "nerr nerr nerr nerr nerr!!"
I don't know how I cope, sometimes...
Saturday afternoon featured the lament that now Big Brother has started, she has to wait until September to go on holiday to avoid missing the evictions. She has even been trying to rope the BF into watching it with her, leading to me having to tell him very firmly that if he starts watching it I will dump him. And I mean it, I will.
Saturday evening, while watching The Queen on DVD, he casually mentioned that his mum was one of those people who lined the streets in floods of tears when Diana died. To this day she thinks it was murder. I realised that 'Big Brother-watching, Express-reading, Diana fanatic' is all that she needs to explain her.
Sunday afternoon was another row about BF not doing the dishes instantly as he finishes eating his tea. I don't even remember the last time she washed up, or the last time I didn't include her dishes in my washing. The whirlwind of nagging that accompanies her entrance to the house deserves a blog of its own.
Sunday evening somehow turned into a maths competition, and on the rare occasions when she got an answer right in the quickest time it was: "YESSS!! I AM CLEVERER THAN YOU!! HAHAHAHAHAAAA!!" and for another two hours it was: "nerr nerr nerr nerr nerr!!"
I don't know how I cope, sometimes...
Where do I begin? WHERE DO I BEGIN?!
"Do you know why people have to die? People have to die so that new people can be born. Otherwise there'd be no room in the world. And that's a FACT."
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