Monday, June 13, 2005

Sloth takes a chainsaw

......and cuts down her family tree. This a letter I just sent to my sister after she called my parents and claimed that I'm a................drug addict. Yep, that's right folks. Slothy's a pill-poppin', booze-guzzlin' crack whore. This tree I sleep in is much more comfortable now that I've cut down that annoying branch that was always poking me in the back. Hi M. I just wanted to let you know how much fun your wedding was. Quite a production. What was especially fun was spending just this past hour on the phone trying to convince my parents that I'm not a pill-popping drug addict. As far as offering valium to your friends, J. (maid of honor) was saying how nervous she was. I half-jokingly offered her a valium which I take to help me sleep at night (you may remember how horrifying my nightmares are, or you may not. I'm guessing not, since you really don't know much about me). I'm sorry that your sullen, freakish half-sister thought I was pushing drugs on her. Not sure how that came about but I guess I should apologize for….I don't know, being in the same room with her? Oh, by the way, when we were in the taxi on our way to get our pictures taken at the lighthouse and said half-sister started bad-mouthing your dad (my stepfather for you Slothvillians) as though I wasn't even there - yeah, that was especially enjoyable. Your "concern for my well-being" regarding the fact that I take valium with me when I travel to help me sleep in a foreign bed was pretty ironic considering that any concern for my well-being seemed to be non-existent after my Aunt L. died and you never even bothered to call. Sorry I got drunk at your reception. That kind of tends to happen in situations where I am incredibly uncomfortable and there's lots of free booze. I wasn't on valium, though, if that eases your overwhelming concern about my health. At least I wasn't the one who puked and shat all over one of the bathrooms. At least I wasn't hungover at your brunch which was delicious, by the way. At least I didn't tell the grouchy threesome that is the family you're actually proud to be a part of what I really think of them, no matter how tempted I was. Anyway, thanks so much for asking me to be in your wedding. Of course (400 wasted dollars later), I now wish I had taken one of the suspiciously numerous opportunities you offered me to decline. I love how my former reputation as the reckless black sheep of the family follows me for the rest of my life like I'm a fucking leper. I guess you didn't notice, but I work full time, go to school at night, maintain a 3.7 GPA and have heaps of friends who love me a whole hell of a lot more than you do. It's really nice that when you have something to say to me you do it through my parents, particularly your father who I feel so sorry for all the time considering how you treat him. And my mother who was forced to instigate a conversation with me that made me cry and wish that you had never come into my life. I suppose you couldn't have anticipated how difficult that might be for her. I'm not sure how our attractive, educated, friendly family turned into the embarrassing, trailer trash side that you are ashamed to introduce to your new, super-rich family. I'm not sure how I'm the bad guy here when your mother is the one who walked around the wedding the whole time with a chip on her shoulder the size of Ohio. I guess your hanging-onto-his-youth-by-a-thread stepfather, your inexplicable horror show of a mother, and your shaggy, pouting freak of a half-sister are on more equal footing with the groom's parents because they have money. That's the only reason I can think of that you would hide our side of the family from his parents as though we were feral, foul-mouthed cave creatures. I'M ashamed of YOU and of the ungrateful, prissy person you've turned into. Your father deserves better than you. You may be the "perfect" sister, the one who graduated on time, the one who instantly made a big, beautiful life for herself, but I work my ass off and I made a life for myself too. My life is happy and peaceful and normal and I've left behind the broken girl I used to be. If I can let her go, maybe you can too. So let's keep things equitable from now on, ok? I'll continue to love your own father more than you do, if someone you love dies, I won't call, and you can have your nice, rich, white life and stay the hell out of mine. -Sloth