Yes, EBS*. I invited you to my youngest’s first birthday party. You haven’t been much of a sister of late, but I hadn’t written you off completely yet. And yet you showed up in a manner sure to exceed my worst expectations: Drunk. Sure, you’re angry about how life hasn’t been fair to you, how you’ve built yourself a house of cards & now its going to collapse. I’m still not sure where on your invitation it read “all about you”.
And the kids playing and laughing and having fun. What ‘monsters and animals’ they are. That is the phrase you used to my wife’s best friend to describe her kids, isn’t it? How disgraceful that in a house full of adults they can have balloon-pillow fights and run around while having a good time. Now, exactly what part of “first birthday party” led you to believe that there’d be no kids there? Maybe its all part of that kids should be seen & not heard philosophy that’s worked so well for you and your mal-adjusted…I mean well adjusted young ladies. And eight…yeah count ‘em…eight glasses of wine sure helped things, didn’t it? Here, I’ll help you count as you read this…one Tylenol, two Tylenol, three Tylenol…stop me when you’re brain reaches a peak IQ of 50.
You know, my guests just loved to hear about ‘them Jews’ in the real estate business, especially Rich, whose mother is Jewish. If you still have teeth as you read this, maybe you should thank me; God knows you don’t deserve to still have them. And I’m sorry your husband lost his job and that things aren’t going well for you. Still, you live in a mansion that’s the size of stately Wayne manor, that’s a new Beemer X5 you tooled up my driveway in, and your girls are in private high schools when I’m struggling to afford Catholic school for my son. And there’s that $20,000 that you stole…err ‘asked’ Mom for that you never bothered to pay back. There’s the new kitchen you wanted her to fund and all the loans from you took Dad, the paperwork of which disappeared under mysterious circumstances. And my other sister is leading the drive to block you from Mom’s assets. Oh wait, we’re back to “all about you again”.
So let me get this straight: You showed up to my son’s first birthday party, drunk & mean, wrecked the party so that everyone goes home, and then say you want me on your side to support you handling Mom’s assets because other people are mismanaging them? Well, let me put this to you in terms you understand: I’ll support flying monkeys administering those assets before I’ll support you (but then only if their not your flying monkeys). You are no longer on my invite list. You are no longer welcome in my house. You are Dead to me. And yes, that means if I ever sell my house, I will not only not list it with you, but I will list it with the person who is the most likely to put it in your face that I didn’t list it with you. And I’d personally love it if they’re Jewish.
*Evil Bitch Sister
