Got laptop battery back from China! Oh and also, tree is up! Finally!!

So on Saturday we all got up and realized two things. The first thing was that the Special Christmas Dinner we have every year was that night. The second thing was that our stupid green piney excuse for a Christmas tree was not yet up and decorated.

Yep. Hannibal forgot.

It was approximately eight AM when I bolted up in bed and shouted, "WE HAVE NO TREE!" It was an epiphany of sorts. I suppose Hannibal must have heard my shriek of terror from the barn because five minutes later, he was inside the house, shouting about "silly American traditions" and "Christianity", and also at Johnny, who was in the kitchen mentally wrestling the wok into submission.

Michael came downstairs, and by this time I was pacing in the living room, and I was all, "Michael! We have no tree." And he just shrugged like the arrogant teenager he is, picked up the cordless phone and hit speed dial. "Yeah. My mom's taking a total shit fit because Hannibal forgot the tree. ... Yeah? Yeah okay, right. Just get a tree. I don't care how tall it is. Shut up. Yeah well your mom's a bitch. Whatever. K."

I frowned and said, "Michael."

He's all, "What? Jason's house has woods in the back."

I could have argued with him for about seventy-six minutes on the subject of unlicensed tree-chopping being an absolute, complete felony, but what would have been the point really? After all, my son is a fourteen-year-old rebel, and as a result, he obviously knows everything, MOM.

So I just said, “One day you’ll get your bachelor’s degree in applied forestry just like your infirm aunt Beatrice wants, and then you’ll see how wrong it is of you to impose such a liability on your poor dear dyslexic friend Jason Vrees.”

Michael just looked at me like my face was a toxic waste plant in its disgusting, smelly entirety, and he’s like, “Oh my God mom you’re embarrassing can you not speak English for two seconds?”

So Jason shows up ten minutes later in a hijacked baby pink van with the inscription “Crystal Munchies” in big huge swampy green bubbly letters on the side. Atop the van was one massive mother of all trees. It was nice and green, but it shedded a lot into our driveway and that made me assume it would also shed excessively onto our living room floor, and I felt kind of bad for Hannibal, who would have to clean it all up in January.

“Jasonyouactuallychoppeddownatree?” I exclaimed, shocked beyond my wit. That’s an expression my mother used a lot, “shocked beyond my wit”. And by a lot I mean teeth-grindingly, nerve-splittingly, horrendously OFTEN. She’s dead now. My mother, I mean. She was murdered by a group of teenage boys in the woods a few blocks down. It was disastrous. They cut out her jaw.

Jason just got out of the van and he’s like, “Yup. Well – actually I kinda got my drunk dad to help me out. That’s why the bottom of the stump is a little bit jagged. I hope you don’t mind.”

Michael came outside and looked at the tree and then looked at me and then at Jason and then back at the tree. He was all, “Dude, the HELL is up with your van?”

Jason’s all embarrassed. “Tsmymomsasshole.”

I don’t think Michael noticed his justification for the fluffy pink cloud-van, unfortunately for Jason. He lunged toward the tree on the roof of the van and I had to somehow hold him back so he didn’t harm himself. Hannibal came out with his duster and several portions of a vacuum cleaner and started untying the tree in the frigid cold. We pretty much just went inside.

The actual decorating of the tree was fairly uneventful, so instead of wasting your precious Christmas-season Wal-Mart-hopping time (speaking of, would anyone be willing to give Michael and company a drive home from Wal-Mart on Sunday night? I’m afraid they might just steal some poor sap’s vehicle if no one picks them up. I promised Johnny I’d go to his thing. Which thing this is, I’m still not too sure.), I will simply condense my rambling into a clear-cut, simple point-form summary of what happened.

Actually no, you know what?

I’M GOING TO MAKE A TOP TEN LIST! Like the ones on Yahoo! News every second day, except way more accurate.


The top ten happenings during Gertie’s Christmas-Tree-Decorating Shenanigans (this one’s for you, Edna!)

10. Tree goes up with rope Michael keeps in his room (look, they’re even in present tense!). Slightly drunk Johnny comes into living room and says “Shiznatch”.

9. Michael and Jason have slight quarrel over who gets to hang the sandy bell. Everyone holding breaths hoping the tree and house stay up.

8. Frederick Krueger shows up. This is an event upon itself.

7. Robert starts singing “Jingle Bells” from upstairs; everyone laughing and spilling eggnog all over the place (non-alcoholic eggnog – what kind of a mother do you think I am?). Hannibal gets mop.

6. Mary-Sue Vrees calls me to warn me not to give her child alcoholic beverages because his “life-threatening fear of water” is “worse when he’s loopy”. Dear sweet Lord mother of all that is holy was that ever the most awkward phone conversation.

5. Jason has slight breakdown over crystal ornament shaped as raindrop.

4. Frederick “goes to the bathroom” and now there are no eggs in the fridge.

3. Hannibal announces halfway through that he needs to go take a piss. TMI, Hannibal.

2. Hannibal very nearly drops the bucket of hooks and goes “UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH!” like a legitimate hippopotamus in heat.

1. Michael pretty much in hysterics over Hannibal’s hippo noises. Angry Hannibal takes large bucket of dirty mop water and throws in Michael’s face, thereby splashing Jason. Michael goes to the bathroom for two hours. Jason in foetal position on living room floor for three and a quarter. Upon getting out of the bathroom Michael tells Jason to “fuck off and get out of my house”. Jason still on floor until people get here for dinner.


Oh, and since you asked, the dinner went well, too. I mean, it went so much better than expected, considering. We had turkey, stuffing, cucumbers... you know, the regular. Sam Loomis now has a healing black eye, Stephenie Meyer had to put Sella in therapy, Freddy refused to eat his cucumber, the house is now three feet farther away to the left than it used to be thanks to Samara and Sadako, Edna’s son Damien pretty much recited the entire Necronomicon to us, Michael and Jason currently are not speaking to each other, and Johnny is still drunk.

But hey, it’s better than last year! Right folks?

Update you again soon! Time for a little shut-eye... that is, if Johnny ever stops dancing with the broom and humming “Here Comes the Bride” downstairs.

Love you all! :)


Hugs,
Gertie

P.S. – I’m feeling much better now that my battery is in my computer and not in China. Thank God Sella Bwan’s relatives didn’t get their hands on it, is all I have to say!

Follow-up on Jason's condition (read "Bad news" for the beginning)

Emotions run rampant here in our waiting room camp-out. A nurse just came in and told us Jason had to be put on life support. Sad... but I'm sure he'll pull through... I mean, when you think about it, life support is really just a technical term for "you got five blades in the side of your head and we must now help you breathe while we attempt to repair the damage." No biggie. They should really stop trying to scare us with ambiguous hospital terms! Golly gosh!

This news caused Michael to swear at the nurse, wish death on her and run (and by run I mean walk awkwardly slowly and stiffly) out of the room. Hannibal immediately got up and muttered, "WHY THAT LITTLE RUNT" and stomped out after him. Robert stood and leapt out into the hallway, alarmed. I could see his frantic eyes searching his mind for the best possible moral to deliver. I for one was more preoccupied with his knees. I'm all, "ROBERT! YOUR OSTEOPOROSIS!" He slowed down a little bit, probably more to shut me up than out of concern for himself.

Sigh. Men. I'm fortunate enough to be stuck with four and a half of them (the half being Jason Vrees, who I am only partially stuck with and might soon not be stuck with at all anymore).

Before the nurse came in, Michael and Frederick got into this big argument along the lines of, "Why did you have to go shove your HAND into his EAR?", so to be fair, Michael was already on edge when she delivered this news. Not that it excuses his behavior, though. I'll have to chat with him once this entire ordeal is over.

I will update you again soon.

Love,
Gertie xox 

Bad news

Jason Vrees is in the hospital in serious condition after an accident during their filming last night involving a glove, our set of kitchen knives and Alfred Benedict's old rusty machete. At this point we're all still kind of waiting in limbo to see what's going to happen with him. Michael is also in the hospital now, technically, because he refuses to leave. So is Hannibal because he refuses to let Michael refuse to leave. So is Johnny because he refuses to let Hannibal make an utter fool out of himself in front of professional doctors and such by refusing to let Michael refuse to leave. So is Robert because he feels that without regular philosophical citations, this entire situation will soon become a full-blown family crisis. So am I because I'm afraid of sleeping alone in my large-ass house. And finally, so is that miscreant Frederick because he's all "OHMYGODWHATHAVEIDONE." Yes, of course he's the one who caused the accident. The film was "Freddy vs. Jason 3.5" after all.

Oh, and Mary-Sue Vrees is here too, obviously, although Alfred Benedict complained about lack of sleep and stayed home. I keep forgetting about Mary-Sue because although she is in the hospital, she is not here in the waiting room with us. Upon arriving she was hysterical and attempted to attack Michael and Frederick with a spork. She is now in the psych ward under observation.

Michael keeps asking me, "MomwhatifJasondies?"

I reply in different variations of "That would be sad." Which is true, because Jason is Michael's best friend, and as such he is kind of like my adopted son. Not that this adopted-son thing doesn't have more to do with Mary-Sue's insanity than anything, but let's not rub that in right now. Except on my blog.

Also, if Jason dies, I think we might as well just give up hope entirely of ever getting the mask away from my dear child. We will also have to move away from Mary-Sue before she goes on a rampage (one-sided conversations included), killing all the children in the neighborhood, wearing a bright pink tee which reads "If I can't be a MOTHER, NO ONE CAN!"

I just got through changing the gauze on Michael's shoulder. He came running home last night all of a dither, going, "OHMYFUCKINGGODJASONLIKEDIED! MOM! MOM!", and apparently, his panic was so great that he did not notice the small knife in his shoulder. I pulled it out and placed gauze on it. I have been having to care for his wound because apparently, he could not care less.

I'm going to have to have a talk with these three about why they feel it's necessary to create such violent films. I mean if you want to make a movie, fine, but Jesus Christ do you really have to kill each other in the process?

This whole thing was probably Frederick's doing. Maybe I should just talk to him.

At this point it doesn't matter much... we're just hoping with all our hearts that dear Jason Vrees makes it through this (and also that Michael does not get gangrene in his shoulder, because it's his writing arm). Our fingers are all crossed for you, honey! Get better!

I'll let you all know as soon as the nurses stop being understaffed and we receive more news.

Love,
Gertie xox 

Eff my life.

"All we have to do is convince my mom to drive us to Wal-Mart, and then we'll take it from there," were Michael's first words when he came in from school yesterday. Peeking surreptitiously around the corner, I saw Jason Vrees was with him. I just imagined Mary-Sue popping up around the corner with her dagger and having a one-sided argument with herself as she pointed the thing at my throat. I mean wouldn't you be a little paranoid if she basically had a restraining order against your child and her child was in your house with your child?!?

So if this all wasn't bad enough already, then Michael said, "I took a twenty from one of the awkward guys that are married to my mom. Y'know the one thing that's great about this arrangement" - he tries to appear like some big genius when he's with his buddies, but I seriously doubt he knows what "arrangement" means - "is that any one of them could be my dad, which means it's somewhat morally acceptable for me to take money from all of them."

Somewhat morally acceptable? "Well hello Webster's Dictionary," I said, popping out right in front of the two little snots in the hallway. This scares me somewhat - what does it say about a mother when she's picking up tricks from her own son? Nothing good, that's for sure. "What are you two up to? Jason Vrees, go home. Please. Your mother is about three playdates away from filing a legitimate restraining order."

Michael scoffed in a very you're-embarrassing way. "Playdates? Seriously?"

We actually heard the infernal vaccuum cleaner in the hallway shut off and then stomping footsteps as Hannibal appeared in the hallway. He looked like he may have just eaten a very sour pickle. He was all, "Yousmartassstopgivingyourmotherahardtime!" And Michael was all, "YOU can't tell me what to do because YOU'RE not my FATHER." And with very bad timing as always, Jason Vrees said in a very matter-of-fact way, "Well-technically-you-don't-know-that."

So anyway Hannibal basically threatened Michael to have him be the meal at dinnertime if he didn't go up to his room immediately and clean the closet for punishment. So he went to his room, followed by Jason Vrees, who, I’m sure, is only always at our house because he doesn’t want to be in the presence of his mother. Which I completely understand. I mean hell, if I had Mary-Sue Vrees for a mother, I’d rather help clean out a sketchy-looking closet than be at home, too.

They were speaking extremely loudly from upstairs, which very conveniently allowed me to inconspicuously keep following their conversation.

“Which one of the guys did you steal it from?” Jason Vrees said, and then my dear child was all, “The one that’s awkwardly in Pirates of the Carribean.”

Jason just absolutely went apeshit then, squealing, “OHMYGODWHATTHEFUCKTHAT’SMYFAVORITEMOVIE!”, which Michael totally ignored as usual, saying, “Yeah and pretty much every Tim Burton movie too.”

Jason Vrees didn’t seem to understand this, because he didn’t say anything.

While I was listening in from the living room doorframe, Johnny barged through the front door and, completely ignoring me, went into the kitchen. I heard a loud BANG-CRACK, indicating that Johnny had taken the wok from inside the oven and slammed it against the counter.

“Bad day, honey?” I asked him.

“MmmmmffffIdon’treallywanttotalkaboutitokay.” I assumed this meant that “that bitch at work” was giving him a hard time about camera angles again.

“Did you notice something bizarre about your pocket money, hon?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. He’d started yelling at the wok. “CAN YOU TELL ME WHY YOU WON’T WORK.” I didn’t really understand what he wanted the wok to do, for it was basically just one big pan, but considering Johnny’s bad mood I didn’t say anything.

I clued in. “Wait a second – MICHAEL!”

“What?”

“Come down here!”

He came down, and – God forbid – Jason Vrees actually wasn’t walking on his heels. “Whatnow.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why did you want me to drive you to Wal-Mart?”

This is how I discovered that Frederick was in the hospital after yet again burning his entire face in yet another house fire that he probably started. According to Michael, they had to go to Wal-Mart immediately to get the delinquent a get well card. I wasn’t very impressed.

“I don’t feel sorry for him at all,” I said somewhat contemptuously. “Maybe this time he’ll finally learn to stop being a miscreant and start leading a productive life. And maybe then I’ll let you hang around with him.”
Michael looked completely unfazed, although he kind of always looks like that. His face always looks like a cold, dead version of William Shatner. I know, I don’t understand either. “Freddy is not a miscreant. You’re a miscreant. Stop getting up in my business, wench.”

I’m all, “Excuse me?”

They took the bus and I’m not quite sure where they are at the moment. I’m not worried. Michael does this every couple of months. He goes out for a few days after we argue and then comes back with a shitload of money and credit cards. I don’t know. I sent Robert and Hannibal out to hunt for him, but only Robert went because Hannibal made a huge scene about the fact that I “didn’t understand his hobby”.

Mary-Sue Vrees has called me exactly thirty-eight times, demanding what has happened to her dear sweet child. The last time I pretty much lost it, I’m ashamed to admit. I basically yelled, “IDON’TKNOWWHEREYOURBLOODYDEFORMEDCHILDISSTOPBEINGAPSYCHOBITCHI’MCALLINGTHECOPS!” I know, it was a bit extreme... but she was sort of asking for it. So it’s not that big of a deal.

I’m listening to Susan Boyle’s new album. Because that’s what I do when my child goes missing and when my $350 wok from Wicker Emporium gets broken my my raving, angry workaholic husband. I depress myself further by listening to Suzie. As the teenagers say these days, eff my life.

Curious crystal-digging business and conversation with Mary-Sue Vrees

The day has been relatively peaceful so far. Mike got up this morning and noticed there were no Froot Loops, but he didn't get angry. Not openly, at least. This, as I soon found out, is because he had a piece of "important news" for me which he wasn't sure how I was going to take.

Michael is now under the impression that he, Jason and that miscreant Frederick are going to a four-week camp this summer located in what I imagine must be in or near Montana. From what I understand (which is not too much considering he was speaking like a robot on a caffeine high), they are going there to dig up crystals at the bottom of a lake. Sounds pretty fishy to me. Let me tell you, I am now under the impression that this is both not a legit camp and that it is also not a place I will ever allow my only son to go spend one day, let alone his entire month of July. So I let him finish his little I'm-an-independant-big-kid-now-and-this-is-what-I'm-gunna-do speech, then I looked at him and I very calmly said, "Over my dead body... unless you want to give me that mask."

Michael is now at school, doing algebra problems and plotting my death.

I actually just got off the phone with Jason's mother, and only now am I realizing that I probably should have asked her about this curious crystal-digging business, since the whole thing was probably her idea in the first place. It sounds mean of me to say, but trust me. That woman is crazy. Insane. Completely off her rocker.

She called me disgustingly early this morning, right after Michael had caught the bus. Hannibal was the one who answered the phone, taking a break from his power-dusting. "Gert-phone," he said quickly and without any trace of a comma, as usual. I answered from the living room. I barely got out the "hello" before she was all, "This is Gertie?" in a very icy, snobby voice. I said, "Oh, hi Mrs V," which I know sounds like something a loser of a 39-year-old mother who's trying to be "hip" and "in touch with the teenage culture" would say, but it's not. I just can't pronounce her last name.

And not only that! I also don't know her first name, despite the large number of infernal summer barbecues I attended at her house this past year. I swear to God, the first time I met this woman, she threw out her hand and said, "HelloI'mMissesVrees". She never said, you know, "Call me Cathy" or "Call me Carla" or "Call me Bob". Nope. Just a cold, impersonal, "Missesvrees" for Gertie.

I gave her a name. I did! I will admit I baptised her. I called her Mary-Sue. Now, in my head, every time Jason's mom calls, or when I see her, I'm all, "Ahp, there's Mary-Sue comin' along." I think it's a fairly fitting name for this woman considering she looks suspiciously like Dolores Umbridge from the Harry Potter movies. But that's just my opinion. For all I know, her name's "Deidre" or something along that line of naming. So it's not like I can just answer the phone, my normal bubbly self like I always am when the house is this empty, and be all, "Oh hiiiiii, Mary-Sue!" That would quite possibly cause her to come to my front door with a dagger in the middle of the night and have an awkward conversation with herself in several different high-pitched voices on my doorstep before killing me. So I can't do that. And I can't say "Mrs. Vrees" either, because that would make me sound like I am on a special underground type of opioid drugs.

So I call her Mrs V. Sue me.

Anyway, so I say "Hi, Mrs V.," and she's all, "WHATDIDYOURDERANGEDCHILDDOTOMYPOORINNOCENTJASON."

I considered this for a moment, quite shocked at her loud, expressionless tone. My ear still hurts a little bit from that. Honestly woman, the last thing this family needs is another trip to the family doctor's office. So I said, genuinely confused, "I'm-not-quite-sure-I-know-what-you're-talking-about." And she's all, through gritted teeth, "Last night... Jason came home... from hockey practice..." - which she forces him to go to, by the way - "and he refused... he refused... to remove his hockey mask."

I said, "Exactly what are you insinuating?"

And she was all, "Michael. Is. A. Bad. Influence. On. My. Dear. Sweet. Child. You. Keep. Him. Away. From. Us. Or. I. Will. Go. Out. And. Get. The. HOSE. And. I. Will. Douse. That. Little. Psycho. In. Cold. Garden. Water." She hung up the phone.

Well, so much for being civilised with each other! Golly-gee! Whatever happened to "it's a beautiful day in the neighbourhood"?

As soon as I hung up the phone, Hannibal, who had obviously been "inconspicuously" eavesdropping the whole time (in other words he was standing in the doorframe and staring at me as I conversed with Mary-Sue Vrees), came up to the couch and began his regular ceremony. "What was that all about? What did she want? What's she insinuating about me? What's she bitching about now?"

I went to bed for about an hour with a cup of hot tea and a good book, and now I'm back downstairs, waiting for Michael, Johnny and Robert to get home so we can pick from a hat and figure out whose turn it is to cook dinner.