Alright, I know that I�m a bit late, but I guess that�s just life. I�m actually getting quite absorbed by The Bourne Identity and I kinda really want to see it now even though I�m almost positive it will not be like the book. I�m not going to give away any spoilers, but some things will either have to be changed or are changed for other reasons.
For example, I didn�t realize it until I had been reading about all the conspiracy assassinations that one of the main characters, Carlos, was involved in. In the book, he is linked to the Kennedy assassination in which the book refers to as the great assassination thirteen years ago.
Thirteen years ago?!
I turned to the front of the book and saw the publishing date was 1981. I know that I should have noticed before, but I don�t really know a whole lot about exchange rates and I was beginning to notice how no one really used computers or email. Of course, as I read further and further into the book, I read the words East Block and West Block referring to East and West Germany.
Now, throughout most of my conscious life there has not been a Berlin wall or a divided Germany. I mean, I remember when the wall came down but I was so young that my thoughts were, �So what? Walls get knocked down all the time.�
I know, laugh at my ignorant child self.
Obviously, the screenplay is going to be updated so I�m interested in how this will affect the plot. Also, I noticed that the main female lead has spiky black hair and looks about 18 years old. Well kids, she�s supposed to be old enough to have a Ph.D. in economics and in the book (and the point that I�m at in the book, it may change) she�s supposed to have long red hair.
Not a big deal, I know, but I hope that they keep her career intact because it�s a major contribution to the storyline.
I�m about half way through and it�s very engrossing, though I actually do know who he is�I won�t tell, I promise.
And now�..we will go back in time to about noon Saturday.
I had woken up about 11:00 after a long, restful sleep. I noticed that Bandit, even though he is let out of my room early in the morning when my mom gets up, somehow ends up in my room, asleep on my bed next to me until I get up for the day. My mother had cleaned my room the night before while I was at K, the Sorceress�, club dinner. I got up, deciding that I would take my shower and redo my hair after everyone had left. I figured that my mom and her sister, Aunt C, would be smoking in the house and I would reek enough to have to take another shower anyway.
Well, my mom had been cooking a roast all morning and since we were going to eat dinner at one in the afternoon I might as well skip fixing myself some kind of brunch. I sat down, turned on the TV and waited.
My mom announced to me shortly after that my Aunt said that she was going to be late and thus my grandparents would not be coming until later either. I was starting to get irritated because I was already hungry and didn�t really want to wait for an hour. I asked why, but my mom said that Cousin A had called and thus we had no information. My mom starts the dishwasher and I impatiently watch TV some more. She goes down in the basement and practically screams.
Our hot water heater was leaking again, for the second weekend now. Of course, the water is boiling hot so we can�t really touch it so my mother dashes upstairs to turn off the dishwasher. She gets on the phone with my grandparents since my stepfather was at another one of his weird Masonic meetings. My grandparents come over and I�m completely unsure of how to help. I know that if I ask, I�ll be snapped at, so I just stay upstairs planted firmly in the chair as my grandparents arrive.
They tell my mom to get a hose.
I don�t really get it either, but she gets the hose and I have to hold my cat to prevent him from running outside as he does every single time a door is opened. My mom takes the house downstairs and it�s silent upstairs for about five minutes. I notice that I hear voices outside and in comes Aunt C and Cousin A.
Immediately Aunt C says, �How are you feeling?� and I responded with my usual, �Ok, pretty good actually.�
�Thank God for drugs, huh?� she replies.
I�m not exactly sure why this bothers me. I guess its since my family is so nasty to each other that I was thinking that she was calling me some kind of druggie or someone who relies on drugs to get through the day when the whole time I was wondering why she wasn�t saying the same about herself.
After all, she is a former crack addict and I guess my whole family thinks that she�s addicted to painkillers. She had spent the whole week calling up my mother every single day at work asking, �What did the doctor say?� �Well, did she get more vicodin?� �What did the police report say?� adding to my mother�s already insane stress levels.
Then comes, �So where�s your kitty?�
I�m really really hesitant to point out his location, remembering that their cat was put to sleep because Cousin A fell on him and the cat defended himself by scratching. Yes, that�s right, my cousin�s cat was put to sleep because he did something completely natural. I was also remembering, with horror, how he had beheaded his hamsters and how terrified of him Trouble and Cleo are. Trouble, who is not afraid of ANY of my friends or any other members of my family, including my fucked up stepfamily, runs and hides every single time Aunt C and Cousin A show up.
�Oh, I�m not really sure, I think he�s sunning himself over by the sliding glass door,� I say and mumble an almost silent prayer. They go over to the door and see him and then Cousin A picks him up, surprisingly gently. He picks up a string and holds it out for the cat, and I let out my breath because it seems that he�s learned to respect animals. I keep both of my eyes on him while my aunt walks to the fridge and promptly takes one of my last two Dr. Peppers. Then she says, �Who�s drinking beer?�
�I am.�
�One, two, five, seven, ten�.ten bottles of beer in here,� she says admonished.
�The cans are for softball and I like two different kinds of bottled beer. I thought that I�d try both.�
�You know, just because you are 21 doesn�t mean that you have to drink.�
I was about two seconds away from smacking her. Thanks for the advice, but I�ve been enjoying alcohol since I was 18. I know my limits, I know how to behave responsibly, and I don�t need a lecture from a former drug addict.
�I don�t need a lecture; I know how to behave responsibly.�
�It�s not a lecture, it�s advice.�
�I don�t need advice. You know, just because you have advice, doesn�t mean it�s welcome. Ask anyone else in our family,� I said, getting up. I trusted Cousin A for the most part with Bandit.
�Maybe you do.�
�Well, I don�t,� I said and went down into the basement to see what the hell was taking so long. My mom had taken the hose and hooked it up to the hot water heater and put the other end over the drain in our basement. She was right; there had been a ton of water leaking everywhere. She�s mopping it up, sweat starting to build on her forehead. I sigh and tell her that Aunt C was already lecturing me. Then I made the mistake of saying, �You know, the water will dry.�
She looked up at me with a look of murder. Well, it is true. There was no reason to mop up water on our basement floor, especially since all the clothes were soaked anyway.
�You know J, this is a lot of work. I�m going to have to rewash all of these clothes.�
�If they were dirty, what are they doing on the basement floor?�
�I was separating them so I can donate them to Goodwill.�
�Why don�t we just throw them away?�
I had good reasoning; I wasn�t trying to be some kind of selfish bitch. I mean, those clothes on our basement floor have been there for like ten years. No one wears them. And now, instead of rewashing them all and giving herself a heart attack, I was just wondering why we didn�t just forgo donating these particular clothes and throw them out. It�s not like we�re not ever going to have more clothes to donate. My mother just stared at me and we all made our way upstairs.
I saw now that Aunt C and Cousin A were in the process of devouring my last two Dr. Peppers just sitting there, not even bothering to set the table or anything. My grandmother starts to take out the plates and I get the silverware and my mother is so pissed off at this point that she decides that she�s not going to eat. She was also embarrassed that she never got around to making the potatoes and biscuits.
I assured her that we�d be fine and while she went outside to smoke, we ate our meal in silence. I went outside afterward to ask why she was so upset.
�It�s a lot of work J.�
�But why does it all have to be done right now?�
�Those clothes will rot.�
�Then throw them out!� I said again. I mean, I�m sure that Goodwill wouldn�t even want clothes that were that old. She told me that she�d turned off the hot water for the whole house and how my stepfather was going to have to replace the water heater the next day and how he was going to be mad about all the stuff in the basement and how we�d all have to move it and so on and so on.
My mother has a tendency to do that. She flips out about all the little things that are going to go wrong before even knowing what the major problem is. She does not handle stress well, even though she claims that she does. I mean, if she�s so good at handling stress, why is there a permafrown on her face all the time. Jesus Christ, fuckin relax once in awhile and enjoy life.
That�s one thing that I�ve learned because of engineering and my internship: things go wrong.
All the time.
The trick is that you just need to stay calm and try to think of alternate solutions.
At this point I was pretty unnerved at the fact that we might not have hot water until the next afternoon considering I had a ton of laundry to do and I wanted to take a shower at some point in the day. Cousin A poked his head outside and politely asked if he could watch TV.
Now that was weird. This kid is hell on legs. He�s usually the Holy Terror; completely impolite, obnoxious, and rude. We went back inside and sat around the table for awhile, doing practically nothing. I�m not sure if anyone was even talking because I was so used to family functions that I�d learned to space out. I guess my aunt was talking about her upcoming vacation�.
�.to Dollywood�..
I don�t understand why anyone would want to spend five days and nights in Dollywood, but I wasn�t going to question her logic. In truth, I really did not want to know. They�re so screwed up that pretty much nothing would surprise me. Apparently, she�s going with my cousin and some guy that she�s been seeing for about a year, a schizophrenic. He�s going to sleep on the couch in the room while she and my cousin share a bed. Now, one wouldn�t think that was very weird, you know? Going on vacation, lack of bedspace, so mother and son share a bed. Well, according to my mother�s assumptions, my cousin has ALWAYS slept in his mother�s bed. They like take baths together and stuff in my aunt�s Jacuzzi tub.
Bet you didn�t know that a normal, white-picket fences girl like me could have a Jerry Springer family huh?
After awhile of my aunt gloating about her vacation, I had started salivating thinking about my only �vacation� for the year: Cedar Point. Well, actually, I�ve taken a couple weekends already here and there going to Chicago, but I have yet to take an actual week off and go someplace in about three years. I can�t wait until I get a real paycheck.
My mom goes downstairs and gets the ice cream cake that I picked out since I hate cake. We start to cut into it and hand out pieces when my grandfather asks, �Aren�t we going to sing happy birthday?�
My mom says, �If you want to go ahead.�
By himself, my grandfather sings happy birthday but only puts in Cousin A�s name, forgetting mine. This family gathering was actually a combination of my birthday, Cousin A�s birthday, and father�s day, but still, I�ve been around nine years longer than that kid and I wouldn�t even have to share my birthday if my aunt had learned how to properly use birth control.
Ouch that was mean.
After the cake, we sat around some more, and I really don�t think I really contributed much at all to the conversation. I laid on the floor, staring out the window while Cousin A played with my cat and after he had received his money for his birthday started begging his mother to go home. That�s pretty typical of him. Then he started to fart, constantly, and when he couldn�t physically fart, he made farting noises. This all happened conveniently when my stepfather, the person you have to walk on eggshells just to keep him from swearing about nothing, had arrived back.
After a couple more hours of this, Aunt C and Cousin A left and shortly after so did my grandparents. My stepfather had the comment, "�What a disgusting little asshole,� about Cousin A even though my mother and I were impressed that he was so polite and didn�t do anything that would scar my cat for life.
And that, my friends, is the end of the family circus.
