Monday, June 22, 2009

Floogin's Friend Robin, Father's Day Fireworks and More

So, the other day, my son is sitting on the can, doing what men do best (not jerking off, the other thing, wait, not pay your bills ladies, the other other thing). He calls me in to talk to him and I protest, as I'm wont to do. Not a big fan of breathing in fumes.

He offers a courtesy flush so I join him in the bathroom.

He starts telling me some bizarre fucking story about shit that makes no sense whatsoever. I want, for one full day, to live in his world. I have visions of electric neon lighting, people and dinosaurs flying around, super powers abound and everything seems like it came right out of Pee Wee's Playhouse, minus the pedophilia.

So, anyway, he's telling me about his buddy Robin and I stop him and ask if Robin goes to camp with him. He says "no, Dad, Robin's a ninja."

Oh. OK.

How the fuck does my son know what a ninja is?

I ask him what Robin looks like and he says "he's orange and he wears all black. No, wait, I mean he's black and he wears all orange."

Oh, now I get it. Robin's a criminal in prison and I'm wondering how a convict escaped and, more important, has he touched my son?

I ask if Robin knows Floogin McNoogin and he says "DAD!! of course he does. Me and Floogie and Robin are buddies, we fight bad guys together."

It's all making a bit of sense now. He then tells me that Floogin takes them to the bad guys because he's a big dinosaur and he can get there faster than they can because they can't drive, except for mario kart and that isn't real.

OK, so your dinosaur friend can get you there and mario kart isn't real. Now I'm starting to think the acid I took in college is repeating on me. Flashbacks are cool.

I ask my son if Robin has a last name and he says "Storbinz." So, Robin Storbinz, the black ninja in orange is my son's sidekick. Yeah, he's normal.

The weekend at Chez McNoogin was interesting, to say the least. My daughter was very well behaved, none of the bullshit she pulls when she's around her cousins. No rude behavior, no screaming insanity. The other kids all acted like the normal annoying loons they can be, but, thankfully, not her.

I was forced to endure close quarters with the deadbeat as it rained most of the weekend and there was nowhere to go. Fortunately, we had friends stop by so I wasn't forced to witness this interloper acting in a huff over the way everyone was treating his home because that is, pretty much, exactly how he acts. I also might have uncovered the root of his temper. More on that later.

So, for father's day we gave my dad his gifts. The kids weren't allowed to sit on papa's lap because the deadbeat's daughter had to or she would cry. Floogin Jr sat next to him and his sister, Floogette (not her real name) had to stand a bit away because the other idiot grandchild refused to move, lest he too burst into a crying fit.

Every time my kids went to hand something to their grandfather, one of the idiot children had to grab it out of their hands and hand it over as if it was their gift. Then they had to help unwrap the gifts.

After a minute or two of card giving and watching my kids get pushed aside by these dolts, I suggested we do the gift giving later, when we could do it without having the other kids take away the fun. My sister, their mother, sits there, not saying a word so my mother finally says "get off papa, let them have their time with him."

He was thrilled with everything and then it was my turn. For my anniversary, my wife gave me a bunch of things that I didn't need and I told her it was a waste of money to accept things that I truly didn't need. So, what does she do? Gets me the same things (different ones but same category). I act excited about the sweatshirt, it looks good on me so I figure, fuck it, I'll keep it. The belt? I tell her it's a total waste of money (it was expensive, I think, and she needs to preserve her own money). The tee shirts didn't fit, except for one and I'm wearing it today. Then my kids each hand me something they picked out themselves. My son got me a baseball "mitten" so we can play catch all the time and my daughter picked out a gift card to the bookstore because she "feels bad that I always spend my money buying her gifts, now I can use mommy's money to buy the gifts."

I was truly thrilled with it all. Yes, I said that. Happy as a pig in shit.

Later in the day, prior to dinner being served, my idiot brother in law had a fight with his wife. He was in a rush to leave, she wasn't. Everything revolves around him and keeping him calm so, when he started freaking out about my wife not being there I asked what the deal was. He was irate about her not being there so he wasn't going to start grilling until she came back. He asked me 3 times over the course of ten minutes if I knew when she was coming back. I finally said "call your wife and ask her, they're together asshole."

My mother ran out of room. Seems she fears the guy's temper so much that she thinks he is always seconds away from a physical altercation.

During dinner the kids ate and then ran off to do their own thing. My son was walking towards the back bedroom, following his sister and he was saying "leave me alone, I want to be with Floogette" and "I want to be alone with my sister." My niece, the deadbeat's daughter, who is almost a year older than my 4 year old boy, is very annoying, like her mother was at that age and appears to be a few bulbs short, like both of her parents. She is trying to keep up with my son, she's repeating something, right in his face and he's trying to walk away from her, around her etc. They leave the dining room and head into the kitchen and you hear my son repeating his mantra several times, then you hear a knock, then you hear an angry wail (her) and a loud scream of pain (him) and my brother in law is up saying "he hit her, I'm gonna kill him."

My wife is up like a shot. So is my sister. She's yelling "calm down" to her husband. My wife is chasing after them all to protect her son and to discipline him if he did something (the little girl cries when the wind blows). I stand up, calmly, and start walking back towards the scene. As I get to the room, my sister is holding her husband back, he's trying to get my son who has scampered under a bed. My wife is at the bed, slowly trying to pull him out, knowing, if he comes out too soon, crazy brother in law will go after him.

I put my hand on my brother in law's shoulder, pull him back and tell him to take care of his daughter. He mumbles something about my son and I calmly tell him I will handle my son and if he goes near him, there will be two deadbeats (not their real names) holding their heads and crying and, I say, I will not stop until the years of pent up aggression are released. My sister looks at me, sees the frightening calm in my eyes and knows that I am dead serious, that I am actually relishing the opportunity to beat her husband to a fucking pulp. (she told me this later in the evening).

He grabs his daughter and takes her outside to sit on the step right outside our window. Not sure why he chose that spot but he's mildly retarded so there's no point trying to figure it out.

Junior clocked his daughter with his nintendo ds because, in his words, she wouldn't leave him alone. That was the knock. The angry wail was her as she scratched deep lines into his face and the scream of pain was his reaction to the scratches.

He was roundly disciplined because, regardless of her being a gnat, McNoogins don't hit other people.

The rest of the dinner and ensuing dessert was tense as could be. This morning's conversation with my mom explained many of the issues in that household. Everyone's afraid of this fucknut. She told me she is on eggshells, lest she set him off. She says my sister constantly watches him to get to him before he blows a gasket and so on. So, I had to explain to my mother that this is because he is angry over the way every acts in his home. I told her to take her house back, let him know that his temper, his sense of entitlement and his attitude are not welcome otherwise there will always be tension and everything will always be centered around him, driving the family apart.

She agreed so we'll see where that goes. Then I told her to talk to him when he's drunk because he's a crier, not a fighter when he's drunk and that his temper issues and his outbursts are always during sober hours and he's probably on edge without his booze. In other words, he's a fucking alcoholic.

I know, I'm a dick for making things worse but, for the first time in 10 or so years, my family is treating me like the son I am and I'm going to enjoy it.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

Do it..keep going..and don't let up.
*hugs

Floogin McNoogin said...

I have no intention of letting up. Not yet. The truth shall set me free!

Trenton said...

Sing on brotha, sing on!!!

Trent :-)

Anonymous said...

Your family is a bunch of nutters, how did you turn out so "normal" and I use that term loosely

Anonymous said...

Define "normal".
&
Define "nutter".

Floogin McNoogin said...

Nomral: plain, vanilla, not batshit
Nutter: those that talk to god and he talks back, those that believe every word, verbatim, in any faith based book (bible, the bible II: the return of the jew, koran, etc) for further study, see the McNoogin family album.

Trenton said...

Damn! Sometimes I just hate being normal! LOL :D