Tag Archive | Preachers

Steel Magnolias No More

steel_magnoliasMy mother and aunt arrived here on a Thursday afternoon.  Fortunately for me I was at work when they arrived.  Unfortunately for my sister, she was here.  She said that they didn’t even make it into the house before they started their bitching.  First it was about all the stuff on the porch, then it was about the house being too messy, then it was about there being dishes in the sink.  (Just so you know, we cleaned before they got here, and the stuff on the porch is crap that we cleaned out to throw away.)  Once they looked in the refrigerator they started bitching about us not having any food.  (Again, we are on a budget, plus we’ve tried to eat healthier and veggies don’t keep forever you know.)  I’m sure that the lack of Little Debbie snacks and fat-filled crap made them think that they were going to starve before they could make it to the grocery store.  (Yet again, you should know that my aunt and mom are both overweight and have no idea how to eat healthy.)  So that’s how the visit started…with them bitching about every little thing and nearly causing my sister to have an aneurism.

Ok, so we had two extra people in the house so far, and we still only had my bed, my sister’s bed, and Little Bubba‘s bunk beds.  It wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but my aunt is so big that she can only sleep in certain places.  So logistically she had to take my sister’s bed, because my bed is upstairs, and neither one of them can make it up the stairs without nearly having a heart attack.  So me, my sister, and Little Bubba all had to sleep in my bed.  Talk about family togetherness.  The worst part of that was having my nephew’s knees jabbing me in the back all night.

On Friday, my dad and little brother arrived.  Thankfully I had to work again that day.  That night there was more bitching about food, the lack thereof, and how my sister was being unreasonable by trying to make sure we cooked healthy foods even while they were here.   Like they are allergic to it or something.  Shit, I am allergic to shellfish, but that never stopped them from cooking tons of shrimp and not worrying about what the fuck I was going to eat.  I always had to make do with salad or whatever I could find.  [Sigh] Sorry.  I know I’m ranting here, but I’m so stressed out by their being here.  I’m literally turning red and feel my skin heating up because I’m so angry with all of them.

That night my dad slept on his ancient camping cot thing and Little Brother slept on the couch.  Again me, sis, and Little Bubba all slept in my bed.

So we made it through Friday night, and I woke up Saturday morning and went downstairs to get my coffee.  I had my coffee and cigarette, took my shower, and got ready for work as usual.  When I came back into the kitchen my mom was going through the pantry.  She saw me and said, “Y’all don’t even have anything to make biscuits.”  I said, “Mom, [Fallen Angel] is on unemployment, and I don’t make that much, so we have run low on funds for food, but I promise I’ll get some groceries today.”  Mom sort of rolled her eyes and said “uh huh” in this disbelieving tone that really pissed me off.  Why she thinks we are living high on the hog I don’t know, but it’s really annoying considering we both moved here to help them and all they’ve done is bitch and moan about every little thing we’ve done.  If I could go back in time, I never would have paid the taxes on this damn house, and I never would have moved here.  I would have told them to shove it up their tail pipes and put a match to the damn place.

(Deep breaths.)

OK, so I’m stressed.  Not just a little stressed, but a lot stressed.  It’s not just the food issues, or the lack of understanding, or the constant bitching.  It’s also because I’m in a house with five other people, and I’m the ONLY ONE who IS employed.  And yet they feel that they have some god given right to tell me how to live my life and what to do with my money?  Oh hell NO.

(More deep breaths.)

Thankfully, Teacher had asked me to come hang out with him after I got off work on Saturday.  I had packed a bag and snuck it out with me when I left for work that morning.  I was all ready to go as soon as I closed up the store.  I had told my sister that I would not be back that night and I told her where I was going, but I didn’t mention anything to my parents about not being back that night.  I knew that there was no point.  They would just lecture me or ask a million intrusive questions or be very judgmental about it like they are with everything else I do.  So instead I just left.

I had a great time with Teacher Saturday afternoon and evening.  I got to hear him play and sing at a nice little bar/restaurant, meet some of his friends, and spend the rest of the night with him.  The next morning we went out to breakfast and then to a park for a little while before I had to head back.  I really didn’t want to leave, but I knew my family was probably already up in a tizzy because I didn’t come home the night before.  Plus it was Easter Sunday and we were supposed to have a family lunch/dinner and an egg hunt for the boys.  If it weren’t for the boys I wouldn’t have cared what the rest of them had planned, but I wanted the boys to have a good Easter.

As I was driving home I got a text from Fallen Angel.  It said, “Don’t get your hopes up on the ham.”  I wasn’t sure what that meant and she didn’t respond to my text asking her to explain.  When I was about half way home she sent me another text.  “Are you on your way home?”  I told her I was and she said, “Thank God.”  So of course my mind starts racing.  I didn’t know what to expect once I got there.  Would the ham be sitting on the front lawn, would they be screaming at one another, would I get verbally attacked when I walked in?  The wave of stress was overwhelming.  Then she sent one last text.  It said, “They saw the picture.”  (I had posted a picture of Teacher playing Saturday night on my Facebook.)

When I did get home and walk in, my mom saw me and just said, “Well, hello.”  Of course her tone is what said it all.  I knew what she really meant was, “There you are you little heathen. How dare you stay out all night while we’re here.”  So what?  It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve done something to piss them off.  They should be used to it by now.

The next few days were awful.  Usually it’s my sister and my dad who don’t get along, but this time it was my sister and my mom.  My aunt didn’t help either.  Their constant bitching about drove me crazy.  They finally left Wednesday and praise Jebus because I don’t think I could have taken much more.  I was just itching for them to say something to me so I could let the wrath of the redhead fall upon them all.

After they had all gone home I told my sister about them trying to convince me that I needed to move back there with them.  I told her that it would be a cold day in hell before I ever lived within two hours of them again, and I meant it.  Their drama is just that…theirs.  I don’t want anything to do with it.

Happy humping!
me_128_bigger

What I think about Lifetime’s new show “Preacher’s Daughters”

165966_495022397201128_1431375662_nRachel asked, “What is your take on the new show coming to Lifetime called Preacher’s Daughters?”  I figured that instead of just replying to her comment, I’d turn it into a post.  Because this is going to be more than I can fit into one paragraph.

First of all, I don’t like most “reality tv” because it’s not reality.  It’s a twisted sexed up version of reality.  The networks only make those shows because so many American’s are either stupid enough to believe that it’s real, or they just don’t care and like to indulge on crap tv.  Watching your favorite “guilty pleasure” tv show is fine, just don’t believe everything you see on tv.

Now that I’ve said that, let’s get on with the show.  When I spoke with the producers of this show a year ago, I thought that it was going to be a top-notch documentary on preacher’s daughters, not a religious version of “Teen Moms.”  Thankfully, my age disqualified me from being a part of this show.  Also, there’s no way the Preacher would have ever agreed to something like this.

preachers-daughters

The preachers and their daughters.

Maybe I’m being a bit harsh, but after watching the promo for the show, I was not impressed.  It was more like mentally and spiritually offended.  Of course, during the promo, they showed a clip of one of the girls having to break the “I’m pregnant” news to daddy.  Then you hear the dad asking the girl how many (guys she’s been with) and saying that they need a paternity test.  They are just trying to boost ratings, and that’s exactly how to do it.

I also feel a little sorry for the girls on the show.  After watching all the clips online, it seems that their parents, like so many religious zealots (including my parents), have control issues.  I know that my dad was so controlling of me that I never would have even dared ask him if I could go out on a date.  Once, in seventh grade, I asked him if I could go to a school dance with a female friend, and his answer was, “No. All they do is play heathen music and the boys and girls dance together. You’re not allowed to ever go to those dances.”  I knew right then that my social life was going to be nonexistent until after I moved out of the Preacher’s house, and I was right.  I sure made up for it later though, and so will these girls.  Actually, since times are very different now, these girls seem to be more rebellious earlier than I ever was.  At least I waited until I was 18 and out of my dad’s house.  Even then I tried to be a “good girl” and managed to stay a virgin until I was twenty-two.  These girls are only sixteen and seventeen and they are already dressing like bimbo sluts and sneaking around having sex.

ok_3-8-13_preacher-daughters_stackedMy sister, Fallen Angel, and I agree that just because a girl’s father is a preacher, that doesn’t mean she rebels any more than other kids.  It just means that she’s scrutinized more closely than other kids.  Being a preacher’s daughter means having a constant spotlight on you and being constantly judged.  Unfair as it may be, it’s the truth.  If the average teenage girl gets pregnant then she’s just a statistic, and no one really thinks twice about it.  Hell, they even give some of them their own “reality shows.”  However, if a preacher’s daughter gets pregnant out of wedlock, it’s a huge shock, a scandal, a blemish on her family’s name and reputation.  It’s ridiculous.  Kids are kids, and yes, some of them are going to have sex.  It doesn’t matter who their parents are or what their parents do for a living.

This show is just another example of how the media is pushing a stereotype about a group of people.  It’s stereotyping Christians, preachers, and of course preacher’s daughters.  It’s true that some preacher’s daughters rebel with a vengeance (i.e. ME), but many of them lead normal, happy, productive lives.  I’m sure that the producers of this show had a plethora of teenage girls to choose from for this show, including some very nice, good, and normal ones.  Yet, they chose to have only the “wild” and “rebellious” ones on the show.  Probably because good girls don’t boost ratings like slutty girls do.  That’s sad, but true.

The fathers of these girls are another matter entirely.  I don’t know how any true “man of God” who could allow their church, family, and daughters to be put on television and exploited in this way.  Well, I can think of a couple of ways they would allow it…if they were sucked in by the greed and/or fame.  Even if they did/do have the best of intentions in signing up for this show, they will soon learn that it’s not exactly like they thought it would be.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am not too worried that the show will cast Christians in a negative light.  Plenty of Christians do that all on their own.  I’m worried about any negative stereotypes being encouraged.  Sure we can laugh and make jokes based on stereotypes, but in the end all they really do is hold us all back as a society.

Maybe you think I’m encouraging the stereotype about preacher’s daughters.  If so then you probably haven’t read much of this blog.  Even my tagline at the top says “Nobody’s perfect. Why should I be any different?”  And that’s exactly how I feel about it.  I’m no different from anyone else.  I have my good parts, my bad parts, my crazy parts, and my normal parts.  I have good days and bad days just like everyone else.  If I’m going to be judged on something, let me be judged on the kind of person that I am, not on who my father is.

I think the girls on this show should be given the same respect.  They should be judged on who they are, and not on how controlling or extremist or conservative their fathers are.  God knows, they will have a hard enough time as it is just being teenage girls.

Happy humping!

me_128_bigger

Lost in the wilderness

I keep starting posts and then abandoning them.  Things are so crazy, hectic, and depressing here that I can’t even focus enough to finish one little post.  So I’m trying something different.  I noticed that all my posts were confined to specific topics.  Maybe that was the problem.  Maybe right now, my life can’t be confined to one specific topic.  So here.  Sit back while I share a little of my chaotic life with you.

Last week I thought that I was going to finally be able to get a car.  After selling my car earlier this summer to help fund the “save the house” project I started getting very depressed and bitter about the whole situation.  Here I was trying to help my parents and my sister and instead of feeling good about it I just feel like I’ve been beat down and abused.  The Preacher has not done much of anything other than make phone calls to lawyers and look at porn.  He’s not much help these days.  My poor mother has no clue what he’s been up to, and she’s just trying her best to take care of everyone.

We had someone come and look at the house yesterday.  My sister & I agreed not to even tell our parents yet.  We don’t want to get their hopes up.  The woman did love the house though and said she’s going to talk to her husband about it.  So we shall see if she actually comes through and buys the damn place.  I used to love this house, but not anymore.  It’s too big, too hard to clean, too…everything.  If she were to buy it next week and we had to be out in a month that would be fine with me, even though I have no clue where I’d go.

You’re response to my poll was great.  Most of you voted that I go back to New Orleans.  Part of me really wants to do that, especially now that Manwhore has left town.  We all know how that goes though.  He leaves town for a few months and then comes right back like a boomerang.  Oh yeah, he’s living with the Chicago gold-digger again.  I guess I should have started by telling you that I’ve continued to occasionally do website work for him since I moved.  That’s how I know what he’s up to.  After last week though, I’m not going to be doing any more work for him.

His business partner sent me an email a week and a half ago with a very long list of changes that needed to be made to the website and other promotional materials.  I had been waiting on the list for about three weeks.  So once I received it, on a Thursday, I told her that I would work on it on the weekend, which I did.  I spent an entire weekend making all the changes.  Once I was done I sent them the invoice for my work.  He immediately started texting me.  He said that I needed to fix some more stuff and that they would pay me half then and half once it was all done.  Well, first of all I did everything she had on her list.  The only thing that I hadn’t done was the list of additional changes that he gave me that morning.

I told him that once they paid me, in full, I would make the extra changes that he had just given me that morning.  That didn’t go over well.  He went on a texting spree and told me that I was charging them too much, that I was a rip off, that the website looked “crappy.”  That’s funny.  Before he got the invoice they both said that the website was awesome.  In a fit of desperation to get paid, and because he was so rude to me, I put an “Under Construction” page up on the website’s main page.  I also removed everything I had uploaded to Vistaprint for them to order.  That seemed to calm him down and by the end of the day I had my money, he had his website back up, everything was uploaded back to Vistaprint, and everyone was happy and appreciative.

I really don’t like having to be a bitch like that.  It’s just not naturally a part of my personality, but desperate times call for desperate measures.  After all of that I told him that I would not be doing any more work for him.  It’s just too damn stressful.

Now back to where I’ll go if we sell the house.  If Manwhore stays out of my life and hopefully New Orleans, then I would definitely consider moving back there.  The other thing that worries me about moving back there is “the one who shall not be named.”  I’ve kept in touch with him, and even seen him once since I left New Orleans.  I’m just afraid that if I move back there I’ll want to start seeing him again and he won’t want that.  I don’t know if he’s just wanting to be fuck buddies, or friends, or what, and I’m too terrified to ask.  I don’t want to piss him off, or scare him off like I did before.  If it came down to it, I’d rather just be friends with him than not have him in my life at all.

The fear of rejection can be a powerful thing.  How do you tell someone who you have a major crush on them and want to date them without sounding like a goofy teenager?

There’s also the matter of Endymion that I’d have to deal with.  If I moved back there and “the one who shall not be named” turned out to be against dating me, then I know I’d be disappointed, weak, and tempted to go back to seeing Endymion.  I really adore him, but I get the feeling that I would never be able to be his girlfriend.  In the bedroom the age difference disappears, but outside, it’s a different story.

Well, well, well.  I think that’s all I have to say about that.

Oh, back to the car thing.  I picked one out, got financing, and then was supposed to pick it up on Tuesday when the dealership called and said it wasn’t going to happen.  Evidently the odometer on the car had been replaced and therefore the finance company would no longer agree to finance it.  Damn.  That really sucked.  So now I’m back to looking for a car and saving up money, because of course as soon as they told us that, the water got cut off and the power was about to get cut off so my down payment had to go towards bills.  Have I mentioned that I hate this place?  I did?  Sorry.  It’s just that I really hate this house, town and state.

Until next time!

Happy humping!

Decisions, decisions. I need help.

Here’s my dilemma.  Once we lose/sell the house, my sister will move back to our hometown.  I will be left with several options.  I can either:

  1. Move to our hometown with her, finding my own place of course, because I refuse to live with her and her animals ever again.  This might also give me the inspiration I need to finish my book, not to mention, the flood of memories that will undoubtedly come rushing back would be helpful.  The main con on this one, though, is that I would be entirely too close to my relatives and family for comfort.  I would have to buckle down, concentrate on the book, finish it and then get the hell out of town before I lose my mind.
  2. Stay here in Podunk, MS, keep working my little job, find a crappy little apartment, and have no social life at all.
  3. Move back to New Orleans, the place that I grew to really like, be with the people I miss, and find another job & an apartment there.
  4. Move elsewhere in this great country of ours.  I have never lived west of the Mississippi.  Maybe it’s time for a bigger change.
  5. Do nothing.  Avoid making a decision altogether, until the day comes when we are forced out of the house and I’m left with no other options other than to move with my sister and live with her again.  (This is not a valid option.  I’m just putting it on here so I will be forced to face the facts.)

Help me out here…please.  I’m begging.  I need some advice on this one.  Thanks!

Happy humping!

Hiding the welcome mat.

Finally, my parents and little brother have gone back home, two states away, where they belong!  Mom & little brother were here for almost a month and in that time they just about drove my sister and I over the edge into insanity.  Thankfully we survived only slightly more insane than we already were prior to their visit.  I do love my  mother and little brother, but it’s true that “Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.” (Benjamin Franklin)  This rings especially true because my little brother seems to have a burping/farting problem.

I understand that it’s difficult for my parents to come back to the house that they built and the town where they lived for so many years, but if it’s so difficult then why come at all?  I’ll tell you why.  Because even though my sister and I are doing everything within our power to help them keep from losing the house while they try to sell it, including my sister trying herself to get financing so that she can buy it, they just don’t trust us.  My father, the Preacher, strategically planned his trip here to pick up my mother and brother, at the first of the month.  He used my birthday as an excuse, but that’s not the real reason.  He wanted to make sure that all the rent we collected from our tenants went toward the mortgage payment.

Just so you know, I’m OCD when it comes to my spreadsheets and Microsoft Money.  I update it daily and try to stay on top of every penny that we earn, spend, and all bills that are due/coming due.  My sister may be the business minded one, but I’m the analytical and practical one.  Together I think we make a pretty damn good team, although our plans don’t always turn out the way we had hoped.  At least we are trying.  Meanwhile the Preacher is sitting on his ass not doing a lot to help out, just waiting, expecting, demanding that she and I make the mortgage payments.  At one point he was ready to just hand the house over to the bank.  That’s what really confuses me.  If he doesn’t even care anymore, then why is he riding our asses nonstop about it?  Control.  It’s all about control I suppose.

I find it difficult to feel sorry for the Preacher, but I do feel for my mom.  I know she has tried her best to rein him in and make him see the light, but he seems to be forever stuck in a deep dark cave of self-pity.  I just pray that she and my little brother don’t have to suffer through all this much longer.  I hope he will get off his ass, get a job, any job or even disability which is what he should be on, and take care of them like he should.

My mother, bless her heart, has good intentions, but she managed to drive us crazy too.  Between her waking my sister up at 2 am, 3 am, and 5 am, to let the dogs out, and her getting up at 6 am to make her decaf coffee and start doing dishes, I thought I was going to have to sedate my sister a few times.  Mom has always had periods of insomnia, and since she was already awake, she thought that 3 am was the perfect time to vacuum and do other household cleaning.  She had no problem going into my sister’s room and vacuuming while sis was trying to sleep.  Sis HATED that, and still does.

I have to hand it to my mom though.  She’s put up with the preacher for many many moons, raised two very interesting daughters, is now raising a rambunctious six-year-old boy, and always manages to keep a smile on her face and love in her heart.  Although not perfect, she is amazing nonetheless.

The funniest thing mom did while she was here was when she found my sister’s bottle of Bahama Mama in the fridge door.  The Preacher is a former/recovering alcoholic, and therefore my parents have not had alcohol in their house in at least twenty-five years.  So one night she was cooking a roast, and found the bottle in the fridge.  She asked if I thought it would be good to put in with the roast, sort of like a marinade I suppose.  I laughed and told her it wasn’t wine, and I refused to let her use it.  (She has a long history of coming up with some interesting, and not so tasty dinner items.)  I guess she didn’t believe me so she opened it up and took a short sniff of it, and then a longer one.  Then she said, “That smells really good.  I guess if I can’t use it I can at least sniff it.”  Then she proceeded to take a very long whiff of it, all the while giggling like a school girl.  LOL

I am realizing that I haven’t written much about my mother, and I will have to rectify that very soon.  She’s so funny and sweet and her innocence just makes even funnier sometimes.  She has brought my sister & I to tears on many occasions laughing at the stuff she says and does.  Don’t worry, she laughs at herself too.  She is great when she laughs really hard.  She turns red, tears come streaming down her face and anyone can see what a beautiful person she really is.

So the welcome mat may be temporarily hidden, but it will be back out eventually and we will welcome them back with open arms.  No matter what, they’re our family and we love them.

Happy humping!