This morning this story randomly popped into my head so I decided to share because it is a lovely example of my family who put the 'fun' in dysfunctional.
In grade school I had a friend named Rachael B. Noteworthy things about Rachael are that she was an only child and had no middle name. Rachael’s claim to fame was that she sometimes rode actual horses, which is a big deal when you are a little girl.
One day for unknown reasons I decided to call my friend Rachael on the telephone and talk to her. When I was a kid people didn’t go around with phones growing out of their ears like they do now so calling people on the phone was a rare event. I opted to use the phone upstairs in the master bedroom since my other option was to use the phone in the kitchen, but the kitchen was next to the dining room where my mom camped out.
I sat on the floor of the master bedroom and called Rachael. We had barely started talking when my mother snuck up on me. “There you are! Let’s see how you like it!”
“What?” I asked innocently, not aware of the madness that was yet to come.
My mother walked over to where I was bent way down near me and yelled, “Shit! Goddamn it! Bastard!” Then she started to walk off, “There! Do you like it? Do you like it when I bother you when you are on the phone?!” and she left.
What?! What?! WHAT?! I was shocked. I was shocked more by the swear words than her interrupting my call. Rachael heard it all so I had to tell her that my mom was trying to be funny by interrupting my call. Rachael said she probably should go and hung up.
As bizarre and devastating as that was, the damage wasn’t over yet. See, Rachael dutifully relayed what had happened to her mother and her mother had a swift response. The next day at school, Rachael came to me and told me she wasn’t allowed to be my friend anymore. I should never call or talk to her again. That was a big blow to me because I was always the weird kid. I was weird enough without this story getting out and making me the pariah.
|Just for you|
The Fine Print: card made from a Basic Gray card kit. Hey I just realized that this may the root reason I hate, hate, despise talking on the phone. I wouldn’t even own a phone except a girl needs to order pizza once and awhile. I would ask my therapist about it but I don’t have one. Instead, you’re it! Feel the pressure now?! How do you like it? Shit! Goddamn! Bastard! Oh, and the room, that's my disaster area, but look how neat the punch shelf is!