In my early days of employment at Current Job, I was taken protectively under the wing of Jar Jar Bitch. Back then, I could still look her in the eye and NOT be the least bit tempted to put her in a choke-hold. We all know by now how I was duped into falling for that “Mother Hen” bullshit and that if anyone ever repeatedly professes to be a mother-hen then they are most likely psychotic or full of shit, at the very least.
This particular year, my husband decided to go south for the Christmas holiday to be with his family. This is not something I normally enjoy so, although less than thrilled with his nonchalant decision to leave me behind, I chose to stay home with my son.
Jar Jar Bitch and I had already had our first falling out earlier that same year over my lending my services to another without benefit of her “permission”. Her feathers were starting to drop, exposing ugly black bits of her control-freak facade. Her nest was beginning to crack so I was surprised when she decided to make herself my “Christmas miracle”. Even weirder was that she was angrier about my husband’s departure than I was. So in true Mother-Hen fashion, she extended me an invitation to join her and her family for Christmas Dinner.
“Wow. That’s super nice of you. Thanks. I’ll definitely think about it, if that’s OK…”
Although wary, since I had recently seen the typhoon that rages Jar Jar Bitchiness, being completely overtaken by the holiday spell I went with kindness and gratitude.
“Ok. Just let me know what you decide” she said.
After emailing back and forth with my mother, who is around three and a half hours’ drive from me, Mom decided to invite me to come up and visit for Christmas. I was urged to pack up my kid and my cat and drive on up to Cooperstown NY. It felt good to be invited by my mother and stepfather for a change, since it’d been years since they held any holiday anything at their house. They’ve never really been the holiday-hosting types…
Since it was pretty much decided, it seemed like a good time to let JJB know.
“I’m so grateful for your invitation, but it looks like I’ll probably be going up to my mother’s. She hasn’t seen her grandson in a while and she hasn’t had us over for the holidays in like forever, so…”
“Oh. That’s nice. You’re still more than welcome to join us – my family is very friendly”.
It seemed logical to leave it at that. Little did I know that more feathers were about to drop…
The Monday before Christmas, which was the upcoming weekend, JJB came to see me in my office.
“So, have you decided yet what you’re doing for Christmas?”
I’m sort of puzzled by this since I thought I made it clear that her invitation was trumped by actual family; as opposed to the “fill-in family” invitation from her. Not to sound bitchy or ungrateful, but wouldn’t you have assumed that I’d be going to my mother’s place?
“Oh – I thought I mentioned that my mother invited us up so we’ll be making the drive up to her place for the holidays. I’ll be back down before New Year’s so don’t worry about office coverage”.
“Well, you never let me know for sure what you were doing. It would have been nice of you to tell me one way or the other. I mean, I DID invite you over to spend it with my family enough in advance for you to tell me…”
I am always taken aback when someone, even inconsistent psycho-bitches like this one, get angry at me. I mean, didn’t I let her know for sure when I TOLD HER that my MOTHER invited me over for CHRISTMAS??? WTF!?
Am I naive in thinking that the way it works is: You pity-invite me because my husband is elsewhere; I express gratitude and complement your friendly efforts; I tell you that MY MOTHER called and asked us up so this on its own should be taken as your official answer?
In case that still seems unclear, Jar Jar Bitch, here is a formula:
Gratuitous good-deed invite + ONCE EVERY CENTURY parental request = your crazy, psycho-bitch ass gets TRUMPED!
Am I wrong!?
Needless to say, I don’t mourn the absence of invitations from her. I’d actually prefer scary, cardboard, monster company to hers and her psycho-breeding family’s. I mean, if anyone’s responsible for making HER the way she is, it’s gotta be THEM, right?