Vacation And The Shitty Bookends of Family Time

Been a while but I'm back. Took a nice long, well deserved rest. Back to Montauk for a week on the beach, riding waves, swimming and sunning with the kids. It was just what I needed, minus a couple of minor annoyances but would it be a Floogin vacation if there weren't a few minor annoyances?

Spent Sunday night with my parents and my pain in the ass sister and her annoying family. Monday was travel day, driving to Montauk in time to get some swimming in at the hotel before dinner and sleep. Tuesday, our first full day there, was annoyance number one. My sister and her family wanted to come see us one day out east and they chose Tuesday. Our first day there and we couldn't relax. We had to deal with them. The annoying kids, the asshole husband and my pain in the ass sister. Oddly enough, she was the only none nuisance the whole day. Her dead beat husband complained about the beach which wasn't our first choice but he couldn't park at the good beaches without paying for a one day permit and he's too fucking cheap for that so we hit the only beach with public parking. It's still an amazing beach but, according to this pile of nothing, it was too crowded, the sand wasn't "nice" and a myriad of other pointless complaints. Their kids can't sit still for two seconds but, somehow, that vast expanse of sand and surf isn't capable of occupying their attention for even a fleeting second. So, we lasted a couple of hours on the beach. Then we hit the best restaurant on the beach. A nice, outdoor rooftop deal. Stunning views of the beach, nice breeze, amazing food.

Well, all that if you aren't the fat fuck who thinks everything is shitty if it isn't free, it seems. During the meal we found out why they chose this day to come see us. It was the one day that there'd be nobody to tend to them at my parents' house so, off they went, ruining the first day of my trip.

They came back to the hotel and whined about the smell in the hallway, the shoddy carpets, the too small pool and anything else they could complain about. During dinner, a place I hate but a place that is perfect for cheap fucks like them and ideal for dining with kids that don't eat, don't sit at the table and don't want to let anyone enjoy a good meal. Basically, this place was designed for them. He complained about the service, the food, the gravel in his motherfucking shoes.

Before we were even finished, I asked for the check, paid for the meal, in full, thanked them for ruining the first day of our trip and asked them to go home.

Wednesday and Thursday were far more pleasant. We stayed on the beach well past 6, built sand castles, rode the waves, boogie boarded and had a fucking blast. We played mini golf, we ate great meals on the docks, and, at night, I had a chance to dine out with the wife, sans kids.

All was great.

Until some cocksucker named Daniel decided to rain on my parade. Literally.

Fucking tropical storm off shore allowed some minor front to settle over us on Friday, effectively ruining the beach day. We wound up doing lots of other things to pass the time but it was somewhat depressing being in a fishing and surfing town with no fishing or surfing to be had.

On Saturday, that asshole Daniel dumped a shitload of rain on us but, fuck him, we were leaving anyway. We drove home in the rain, stopping for lunch, for a pit stop at the children's museum and a few stores. Anything to avoid sitting in my parents' house, doing nothing, with those screaming, whining, crying, pain in the ass kids.

We arrived in time for dinner. Barbecue. Always barbecue. The fat fuck likes to barbecue and drink. He's white trash.

Sunday was spent splitting up. I was planning on heading back to the city, my wife and kids stayed behind. The weather was shitty again so she decided to take my daughter and go shopping. Her cousin wanted to come so my wife took him. He's about 9 months older than her and there's this fierce competition amongst them, thanks to my mother and my sister. Truth be told, there's no competition. He's a whiny brat of a kid who somehow managed to get into the city's top public school but, as he heads into second grade, he can't fucking read. Go figure.

Anyway, they were shopping for clothes for my daughter and she's not much into shopping. My nephew, however, is gay and loves to shop. We always thought he was a bit on the fem side, he wears tons of bracelets, his favorite nintendo ds games are fashion and cooking games, he knows all the disney songs and dance moves from the high school musical series, hannah montana etc. His friends are all girls, he never plays with boys. He's gay.

At the store, my wife tells me he ran around like some crazed beast, grabbing accessories to go with clothes my wife was picking up for my daughter and, she said, his sense of style is amazing. He knew which patterns went with what, he picked out shoes, hats, belts, etc. She said it was like shopping with a real girlie girl.

Then he turned into his more annoying side. He was screaming and acting like a putz and she finally had enough and took them home. Then he teamed up with his sister to pester my son. My son doesn't take to being pestered and those two kids scream and cry when someone brushes against them and the combination of the those two an my son always winds up with those two crying bloody murder.

This time, we watched it unfold and it was most enjoyable. My niece, who's a year older than my son and, possibly, on the slow side (I know, not a joke but she can't be that stupid without having some kind of handicap), decided to try and stand in front of my son, no matter where he went. My son did his best to move away from her, asking her to stop, screaming at her to stop and then I told her that I saw what she was doing and it wasn't nice and she gave her mildly retarded smile face and stared into space so he pushed her. She moved back a step and started screaming "Floogin hit me." I stood up and said, "no, he pushed you lightly because you wouldn't get out of his way, even after he asked you a few times." Then, the more annoying gay older brother decided to get into the act. He leaned his face right into my son's face and did his best, high pitched "nananananana."

My son kicked him in the chest and slapped him in the face.

The little fag went down like tower two.

It was that fast.

Both of my sister's kids are now screaming and crying and out rushes the big sweaty trailer park king.

"what the fuck did your crazy son do this time?" he bellowed at me.

"He shoved your pain in the ass daughter out of his way because asking her several times didn't seem to register and then, when your moron son thought my son was going to get in trouble, he shoved his face in my boy's face and mocked him, so Floogin hit him, and kicked him."

I then bent down and picked up my son and said, loudly, in front of the whole fucking family "Floogin, we don't hit, we don't push and we don't kick. I don't care how annoying they are or how much they tease you, you don't hit them. You don't hit baby marcus, do you?"

He said no, Baby Marcus is a baby.

"Right," I said "we don't hit babies and gayson and idiotdaughter (not their real names but oh, so appropriate) are big babies so we can't hit them."

I know, sort of bad parenting but what I wanted to do, at that very moment, was high five him and call his taekwon do school and tell them they missed the best punch/kick combo ever.

Later in the day my sister asked me why I was going to sit on a bus back to the city and find myself dropped off blocks away from my apartment with all my luggage when they could drop me off at my front door. I explained that I didn't think I could handle the two plus hour ride, sandwiched between her kids. I told her it would result in my stabbing pens in my ears to avoid listening to their whines.

She said she totally understood.

Got home after 9. Enjoyed a nice, quiet meal. Alone. Enjoyed a nice, quiet apartment and a kind sized bed, alone.

It was a rather fitting end to a hectic weekend. Sadly, that hectic weekend somewhat dimmed the bright sunshine that was the week in Montauk.