Do I need sympathy or just a (holy)ghost writer for my inevitable acceptance speech?

[I started to post this in MPSIMS, but decided I was still too pissed. So please bear with me. I’ll try to use levity to ease my ire without injuring anyone too much.]

Some background: My mother and I used to be close, until I was around 13 or so and began to, hopefully, think for myself. Needless to say, Shitler (a cross between Sybil of the multiple-personality fame and Hitler, obviously) doesn’t take well to her minions not marching in goose step, so a chasm began to form. Over time, it widen to the point of almost zilch communication within the past year plus for a variety of reasons, all on my end. Add to that our completely exact opposite beliefs on everything, especially what’s deemed important, and her views on my life’s problems… IE: my mental illness is all “just an act because I’m lazy, an attention whore, don’t wanna work, am a good actress, etc., etc.” and how I handle them. The last straw came when she decided that I had no right to deal with ending my marriage on my own. I’d had it and I’ve basically not looked back since then.

Of course, at that point, I really didn’t think she could stoop any lower than what occurred then. Her asking if I’d be willing to take a DNA test to prove that I must have been switched at birth and not really hers. Fine. As long as she pays. :stuck_out_tongue:

Anyway, what little interaction we’ve had in the interim has been on my terms. Finally. And in the spirit of Christmas, I felt we should somewhat bury the hatchet (someplace other than our skulls) and aim for tolerance through the end of the year. This is where I made my mistake. :mad: In the midst of much of her usual bitching and griping, I got subjected to her armchair psychology and analysis, proselytization, and plenty of rebukes, demands and exasperation. Which all was pretty much expected and rolled right off my back since it was coming from the Manson family matriarch and her lackey(s).

But I really should have seen more coming. I mean, there is NO way that this woman would’ve been content just letting me be quasi-punished. I haven’t suffered enough or as deeply as I should. So, after being told I’m (and these are all direct quotes) “homely,” “food is not my friend,” “a slut,” “a liar and cheat,” and “no way possibly her daughter,” what else is/was there?

Well, my friends, believe it or not, there are depths yet to be explored. 'Cause I was unbelievably wrong. She found it too. In her version of Christian fundamentalism, where she’d make Falwell look sane, she’s come up with this scenario after the past four :eek: years (and has shared this opinion with my ex-youth minister who presided over my wedding vows)…

Drum roll please!

I am…

Are you ready for this? (Trust me, you can’t possibly be.)

::: sigh :::

I don’t really know if I can post this after all, it’s so fucking embarrassing that someone who’s living in the 21st century can think such a thing realistically. So, here goes anyway.

::: deep breath :::

Do NOT laugh (very much – please) at the gravity of what I’m about to say. Although, that may be the only normal recourse.

::: dons tomato (and holy water?) proof suit :::

Yes, you read that right and here, first! :rolleyes: Now. What. The. Ever. Loving. Bloody. Hell!?!!? I understand she believes I’m headed straight for the firey pits in an express handbasket. I get that this is very real to her despite any circumstances. That must be the root of my mental health problems and everything else. I also don’t honestly give a shit and feel her ideas are about on par with the TimeCube person or that guy who’s trying to take over the internet. Have I mentioned that Michael Jackson makes more sense? Regardless of how I view this, it’s so incredibly disappointing, demoralizing and disheartening (all those D words) that I had to vent about it here. It’s not that it truly matters. I could be a perfect mirror image of her and it still wouldn’t be good enough. But to think someone would stoop this low to degrade, hurt and manipulate their only child is kind of enraging. Though since she no longer has any sort of hold on me, I suppose this is as good as the frantic can give.
Unreal. :frowning:

So, to end up my rant, what things in the future can I say to her to solely amuse myself? I’ve already taken to calling my otherworldly hitchhiker/overlord “Bob.” I mention bringing him to dinner. :smiley: What else? Like my title implies, if I should strive for higher up the evil ladder, what should I include on my platform? How to go about funding, running mates and brainstorming for my inevitable win? Is a 666 tattoo under my hair necessary? Where are my horsemen? Help! I’m sure there’s so much more to know before I rule this mortal coil and I grasp that having Captain Howdy just now aboard (or unawares, over the past four years) won’t past muster on breaking me into the proper black arts ropes. Any guidance will be appreciated in the forms of the sexual deviants of your choice. No use handing over the inexperienced to the devout, IMHO. The chosen deserve infinitely better. :smiley:

I’m looking for guidance. If you’re up to it, I’m sure in my future world order, I can make you a star. Just tell me which vice is your pleasure and what you can do for me first.

Thank you.

~not just your ordinary aspiring antichrist

P.S. Gah. This would be so much funnier if I didn’t know the weight they place on this accusation, but damn, it’s not like I can buy a test at Wal*Mart to prove that I’m not a female Damian. What an untenable situation and my mother, one of the most foul wastes of flesh to ever grace the universe. Would calling her a bitch be vitriol enough? Or does this require something much more damning?? However, I refuse to weep. It’s her morality in question over this particular judgment, not mine. No sir, no weeping here. EVER.

Over loud speaker:

< Lois! Price check on the Satanic Influences Kit on Isle 5. Yes, the ones on clearance. ::: pause ::: The one that has a red strip for positive and a picture of Tom Arnold on the box. >

Thanks hon. That’ll be 7.96 with tax. Guess getting up to a little ‘devilment’ is really cheap these days! HAW. HAW. HAW.

::: cracks gum :::

I slink out with my pointy tale tucked between my legs and ready for another viewing of that movie with Pacino as a lawyer. Gotta prepare.

::: hums :::

“Please allow me to introduce myself. I’m a (wo)man of wealth and taste…”

Yep. If I’m made the next big boss, I gotta make those Stones boys the in-house band! I love sychophants. Therefore, who wants to sign up next? A little blood is all I’ll ever need. Bwahahahaha. Excuse me, I have contracts to tend to. Come Keanu.

I dunno about demon possessed, but your handling of this in the OP is funny as hell.

I don’t mean to cast aspersions, but your mom sounds… well, kinda nutso.

Bolding mine.

I see that my first spell is working! I’ll have to pay double to Madame LaRue for ensuring my nefarious bywords now enter the lexicon in an accepted and uproariously profane manner. Young grasshopper, you have observed and done well. :smiley:

Of course, my mother is a freakin’ loon. You nailed it right on the head. However, I can’t do anything about that at all. She’s one of those folks who chants that she’s more sane than any other Pharisee.

You have to love that logic. And if I could only put it to good use, I’m sure I could convince her to sell some fire places for our future dwelling together. Ya know, the one she is positive she will NOT be at. Only watching from her fluffy, safe, holier-than-thou, #9 perch.

Now, thank you for visiting Lucifer Unlimited. Please enjoy your eternal stay. Complimentary continental happy hour included. Shitty beer only. Voodoo atmosphere optional. Void in east Texas. (She already has a monopoly!)

My coworkers are looking at me funny coz I’m convulsing with laughter. Your mother sounds like a real trip! If I were you I’d be praying that I was switched at birth!

And good luck with that demon thing…did you ever see Little Nicky? Can I be the dog?

Make that the HELLHOUND!

Make her some pea soup. Tell her it was Regan’s favorite. :wink:

"She’s got that kind of religious Tourette’s syndrome. You know what I mean? We’ll be having a normal conversation, and all of a sudden she’s like ‘YOU’RE GOING TO HELL!’ The other day, she told me, ‘You have Satan inside of you.’ So I worked it. ‘Mom? Could I please have some more turkey? I’m eating for two.’ "

  • Suzanne Westenhoefer

biddee ~ Glad you’re getting a kick out of my persecution. :wink: I’ll have to keep a closer eye on my spawn once I’m in power. I can’t have any uprisings like have been rumored in the past. But I suppose if I’m indeed interviewing for position, Hellhound would be available. What are you qualifications? Do you ferry well? How much chow would you need? Write up a proposal and send it to and I promise to post results before the (hehehehe) second coming.

< makes note to get in touch with old friend Adam >

And dammit supervenusfreak! That was exactly one of my April Fools jokes that I had planned. A few special effects, Jolly Green Giant veggies and a crucifix or two would have my mother’s head in a spin. ::: sob ::: Now you’ve ruined my creativity!! I suppose I’ll just have to kill you then and banish you to… um, whadaya dislike immensely? Since I’m a beginner to these things and all, a little guidance goes a long way to making a competent maniacle monster.

Let me know.

Then matt tries to still my thunder too. Have I not been clear enough on that punishment phase yet? Well buddy, lemme tell you, I do not suffer lightly those who’ve been running around in my wicked, bad-ass mind and stealing my ideas. Why I oughta… um, again I’m at a loss. Hang on.

::: ponders :::

By george, I think I’ve got it! Whip you with wet macaroni and make you write bad checks. So, how ya like apples? Huh? HUH? I keep telling everyone not to mess with the Princess of Darkness. But do they ever listen? Noooooo.

Well, Bob and I are gonna hit the sack for the night and ponder why I don’t look as good as Ms. Hurley (or even the “Oops, I Did It Again” chick) in a rubber one piece. No, I don’t mean that kind of rubber! Of course, I might be convinced if the right suck up comes along.

I do mean that too. :smiley:

I’ll be accepting applications until noon on Friday, when surely my domination will begin after one of the most debauched eves of the year. (I tried to put dibs in on Mardi Gras, but that wag Nicholson had already called it. Ass. If he thinks I’m giving in that easily to someone who wears shades all the time, he’s got another glare coming.) No faxes or resumes in pencil please. Messages can be left with my secretary, J. Rivers, and I promise :wink: to get back to you when I’m not being dastardly with some grapes, nubile hot male singers like the guy from Three Doors Down and a timed version of Chutes and Ladders.

Don’t ask. Unless you brought the Cool Whip. :smiley: Then it’s all good and I can hook you up with some phat A/C.

Chow for the night, my little misguided, but lowly darlings. I’ll see you on the dark side of my moon. (Yes, that one.) Until tomorrow, dream of writhing and screaming and gratuity. Lots.

Wha? I’m only talking about “Sex and the City” reruns.

::: bestows many wild wishes in the very best of grooves :::

I gotta admire a gal who can make a real and troubling problem sound this freaking hilarious. You go, girl! many smooches

Oh my God, I wish that I wasn’t trying to have this serious conversation over the phone with my girlfriend right now.

I don’t want to offend you in this apparently rather serious time for you, but your writing is really top-notch. Umm, I hope it makes you feel better that your Lil’ Demon Boddy has instilled you with some serious writing abilities.

Damnit, make that Buddy not Boddy.

Do you mind some commiseration? My mom is convinced homosexuaiity is caused by a Sex Demon. Therefore, since I am gay, I obviously have a demon that has lured me into that sinful life.

I also have a cousin who is a fundaloonie preacher. He has conducted demon expulsions in his church. In fact they claim he got a hole in his lung once from praying so hard and the demon damaged him when it left the girl’s body.

If I didn’t look so much like my dad, I’d suspect I was switched.

Well what do you know about that! I’m demon possessed too! So declared by *my * mom when I was 17. Twenty years ago. I’ve named my demon Irving.

But you see Mom had her reasons. I read books, not just the Bible. And I never saw myself as the fat, ugly, slovenly pig that she took such pains to point out I was. And how dare I actually have a good self-esteem when she worked so hard to strip it from me! Emotional abuse: it’s not just for breakfast anymore.

I spent years spending very little time around her. And I went away to college, where she couldn’t rip me apart everyday. Whenever she’d start a tirade, I’d leave or hang up. Still do it. “Oh I’ve made you made now you’re leaving.” Exactly. Treat me better and I’ll hang around longer.

So see!! We must be sisters!! In a demonic kind of way. :smiley:

First: Damn, you made me laugh.
And, sorry about the whole family thing. Doesn’t help when Mom gets everyone to gang up on you. After some of her more dire pronouncements you can always say:

“Mom. Your voice is annoying Bob. If you don’t shut up right now, he is going to make me duct tape your mouth. Nothing I’ll be able to do to stop him.”

“What’s that, Bob? I can throw this full glass of red wine in her face and Satan will reward me? Okey Dokey.”

“Well, I’ll tell you this much. Being a demon’s sexual toy beats 3 minutes of missionary position with <insert ex husband’s name here> ALL to Hell.”

“Can I take your dog home with me? I can’t find a goat, and it’s my turn to host the monthly animal sacrifice.”

Wow, this makes all the silly issues I have with my mom pale in comparison. :stuck_out_tongue:

Hey, at least she gave you a scapegoat. Something goes wrong? “The Demon did it.” :smiley:

This is kind of a funny idea to satisfy your Mother’s dark suspicion and something that really happened to me the other day.
I was with my Mom and we had stopped at a convenience store. She got out of the car and was walking up to the door of the store and as an afterthought turned back to me and asked if I needed anything. I said “Yea, actually, get me some Grizzly Wintergreen!” (I dip tobacco, occasionally… I know, I know, it’s a bad and disgusting habit.). She asks, “How many?”. Now I’m not sure what happened here, it was entirely unintentional and I meant to hold up the standard three fingers, but I had a brain fart and my hand comes up into the Headbangers Salute/Sign Of The Devil and I say, “Three cans!”. She didn’t say anything and I don’t even know if she noticed, but I brought my hand down quickly and was pretty embarrased —I was thinking, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!!! I mean, it was like the wires got switched…it was three fingers alright, just the wrong three.

So, everytime you converse with your mother and say the word three you should twitch a little and compulsively throw up the sign o’ the devil emphasizing the number three. Just be careful she doesn’t hire a team of fundie exorcists to abduct you and deprogram you.

Oddly enough, I’ve got a good friend who’d sworn he heard a Demon talking to his ex-wife.

Normally he’s not a complete nutter. Really.
In your shoes, faithfool, I’d be milking Bob for all he’s worth, too. That is when I actually bothered to remember the woman at all.

Have you considered musical names? Since demons are supposedly without set form, maybe Bob has a different name for every day of the week? (And demons have an eight day week, yanno.)

Monday - Bob

Tuesday - Robert

Wednesday - Bobbie

Thursday - Robbie

Friday - Igor

Saturday - Spork (come on, we all knew they were named after demons, all along.)

Sunday - Joshua (If the broad has any brains she’ll likely flip when she hears your demon is calling himself after the most probable Hebrew name of Christ. Alas, low probability event.)

Nultday - Irvine (Irving, after all, is someone else’s shoulder demon.)

Then go back to Bob. It should drive her completely batshit nuts. (Short trip, I know, but still fun in its own way.)

Just an humble suggestion.

Some years ago, from my limited experience, I had never understood how someone could not adore her mother. I adored mine, and every mother I had ever known was adored by her children. It was, of course, because they were good mothers. I always assumed that renegade kids like yourself were to blame somehow. Then I met my wife’s mother. She is a bitter, contemptuous, recalcitrant woman who never smiles and who complains about everything. She is deeply bigoted against whole classes of people (despite being a Minnesota “liberal”). Her rudeness is surpassed only by her cluelessness.

Tell your mother that demons recognize other demons. You’ll have yours call hers. They can do lunch.

Maureen, that was so hysterical!

Nothing to add, just laughing my ass of at someone else’s pain! :wink:

Thank you, I’ll be here all week.
No. Really. I hate it, but there it is. I won’t be getting whisked off for some romantic dinnner. I won’t be getting kissed at midnight. But that’s another rant for another thread and I will just stop hijacking faithfool’s thread because it’s rude. Sorry.