“Some people find fall depressing, others hate spring. I’ve always been a spring person myself. All that growth, you can feel Nature groaning, the old bitch; she doesn’t want to do it, not again, no, anything but that, but she has to. It’s a fucking torture rack, all that budding and pushing, the sap up the tree trunks, the weeds and the insects getting set to fight it out once again, the seeds trying to remember how the hell the DNA is supposed to go, all that competition for a little bit of nitrogen; Christ, it’s cruel”
Contrary to popular belief, it is very difficult to take a dysfunctional family and make it functional. The opposite would be true is well. However for the purpose of this blog (and, because the author is much more familiar with chaos) the topic shall remain strictly on taking several wrongs (DNA) and attempting to make it right.
‘Living amongst dysfunction…in a household setting…is like finding your ‘own’ misshapen and non hygienic lint on a pair of socks. There is nothing more disgusting than your own special brand of gross.’
Dysfunction, junction…what is your function?
The first mistake is making every attempt within your impotent powers to stir things up. You are currently in a cesspool race amongst inbred rats…there is no winning and/or changing the game plan.
As the saying goes,
‘It is like pissin’ into the winds!’
Your best bet is to not bet at all. Change in a defective world is a slow and steady game of RISK…And, you are a country in and of itself. You have no allies!
Never, never, ever, talk to them or talk above them. Them being the ‘Flawed Clan’. Do not attempt to argue with them when they are;
a festering human boil
disgruntled once again,
over an argument that occurred two decades ago
Above all, do not strive to out swear them. When in the process of out cussing the kissin’ Cousin or the demented Dad, you will find yourself only using the optimal words and/or:
What the fuck
and my personal favorite
You are fucked up!
There are so many other ways to deal with the current situation…whether it is a the stage of just having been told your grandmother is your sister’s father. Or, your distant, distant, not distant enough, cousin is fond of necrophilia.
Swearing/cussing will only lead to dumbing you down and is known to cause bouts of ‘redneck’ dialect!
How to physically right the wrong of maladjusted lineage?
Do not look unhappy! Take that fated frown and turn in upside down! If you do not do this…the defrocked dynasty will suck you in with their ‘funny bone’ dramas!
No matter, the Whoa is me situation:
Uncle Hilde wants to be Aunty Hilda
Sister Flo believes there are aliens living in her small intestine.
Step Dad #5 was once an alcoholic clown in a traveling show
Misery loves company. Dysfunction loves snowstorms in the middle of July and they will blame you for the plight. Particularly if you are suspiciously…wearing a frown!
A simple list of how to combat dysfunction and stop it from breeding:
Becoming an alcoholic and/or addict
Talking to the animals
Frontal Lobe Lobotomies
Changing your last name
The only real solution to taking problematic family trees and shaking the apes out?
A good sense of self, a spouse that has not been afflicted by a similar disease, hope, faith and occasional private sessions of isolated rage.
Private Non-Inclusive Isolated Rage; This is a practice/hobby that should be participated in by one’s self. You will need a copy of ‘Every Rose as it’s Thorns’ by White Snake. You will also need to acquire every episode of ‘All in the Family’ that has ever been placed upon this bigoted earth. A container of red ants that have not been feed in the last week or so. One jar of pure honey…not the fake stuff. Ants can tell the difference!
It is best that you remove all dangling jewelry and strip down to what God gave ya’. Then, ask your spouse for a period uninterrupted time in the basement. A comfortable chair is advised.
As you put on the music, volume to the max. Archie in his chair…on mute. Place yourself with the tender love in care you should have received as a child…but didn’t, in the barren but comfy chair. Open the jar of honey placed by your left foot. Un-hinge the jar of ants…with your right foot.
Close your eyes and rest in peace knowing…you are currently in a much healthier space than you ever will be at a Thanksgiving dinner with the Parents!
##The history pages are filled with the anguish of growing up in unfit clans. The Kennedys are a prime example of several attempts at sexing the junky genes out. And, let’s face it, there are many of them left. Start to work today…
Stop Dysfunctional Families today…donate to
In case you’re tuning in and turning on for the first time. For some strange reason you are one of my new followers let me fill you in:
I am certain it seems apparent to most that I have issues. But maybe I’ve been beating ‘round the bush for those readers who are a little slow when it comes to dark humor. I put it as gently as I can. The carnage that is Ambien.
My name is Amber Grace….,I have a nickname that is, Ambien Grace. I won that trophy entitlement by taking a fistful of the above mentioned sleeping pills and then all hell broke loose.
Men, more men and questions of my virtue were thrown about. This scenario happened at my Catch Phrase College yet, it could have happened at Plymouth State. I was and am a party willing to travel to a campus near you. The above mentioned incident most likely happened time and time again without my having no memory of it.
I drink too much. I do drugs. I don’t take my suitcase of psychotropic medications as prescribed. I am bi-polar, depressed, suicidal once a month and needing anger management classes.
Excerpts from Ambien Grace’s somewhat pornographic and disturbing diary:
a lot of the reasons why i drank was either because of my mom or well, just my being me.
I just don’t know how many more night’s I can go by crying myself to sleep but I know I do it every night.
i eat when im depressed. i get depressed when i dont see you. So i eat until i throw up and just lay in bed, watch buffy and try and sleep….it doesn matter the time…and then by the time my parents come home i have to put on a fake smile like my day is great. If all else fails after family dinner its back to porn, pills and self-love. I eat before, during and after meals.
Certainly there is more where that came from. My attic room is filled with misled futures and hopes hung on talent I don’t have. I am a nude model for back alley artists. I get paid under the table. I had recently just quit a job because my mother told me too. I left the only people who cared for me behind to be with my mother.
My mother is my girlfriend. I’m sure of it.
Example of parental disdain:
“They make me sound like I get depressed if I don’t like a present. Which isn’t true? And even then I say I don’t want anything and they say it’s about giving to others and I’m thinking I do daddy’s shopping and my shopping for you so get over yourself she’s the one who complains if she doesn’t like something” My pictures are pictures of pictures others have taken. My thoughts are thoughts that others have had.
I tell all my girlfriends and boyfriends for that matter don’t plan on sticking around long, I haven’t told my mother about you.
I like knives they improve my borderline skills. In otherwords, I’m just digging ’round for attention I don’t want a suicide watch!
I don’t love much. I had a girlfriend down South; she treated me like the fresh turd that she would warn me not to kick. Our sex life wasn’t a lesbian sex life. We held hands. She tried to stick her tongue down my ear and I proceeded to rip her clothes off. The whole experience was rough, not well planned and pretty much describes any relationship I’ve ever had.
We broke up. She wouldn’t text me every minute, she wouldn’t Skype and masturbate with me. I thought it would bring us together.
. The one minute she didn’t text me, she fucked the cowboy next door. I got angry and fucked the next door neighbor’s son.
In a nutshell so we can get on with the rest of my distorted life. I am homophobic but wish I was gay. I graduated college by the skin of my mother’s good name. I am not athletic though those rich folks push horseback riding and tennis down your throat! Neither sport painted me in a good light but Floyd, the dead at the head Adopt-A-Dad nor Mother Theresa wanted a daughter of honor and grace. Concord NH debutante disgraced! Concord’s shining example of young adulthood. My parent’s pumped and pimped me everywhere.
But where there is spoiled DNA there is a rotten gene pool.
I am Brangien [Brangaine] of Weisefort, Ireland, lady-in-waiting to my cousin Isolde, who became promised to King Marc of Cornwall. His nephew Tristan escorted us to England by ship. But Tristan and Isolde fell in love at sea. As ye may know, or will find out, they cite the philter they drank as the cause, over which I was supposed to keep vigil. I would like to share my perspective of how I have created good in the world through my herbs and observations. There is much to tell, including how I have adopted this odd language. In good time. My life is in God’s hands. –Inspired by the modern French translations of the Tristan and Isolde texts