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"Thankful," you say?

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter on November 18, 2007 – 11:30 pm

Aside from all of the genocidal reasons to loathe the WASP holiday of “thanksgiving,” Teh Dick has given me yet another reason to loathe setting foot in their property, if not to avoid every one of my so-called relatives whatsofuckingever.

Yes, I know, there are important things going on the world ’round, there are billions of topics more important than my ongoing battle against these motherfuckers, but y’know, sometimes I either have to rant it out or start shopping for handguns that I can’t afford.

Teh Dick’s mother has recently come down with Type-2 diabetes and macular degeneration, and the doctor appointments have been often and neverending. When my Nannie (at left) got colon cancer, the first thing that THEY thought of was not to get her to a gastroinerologist or an oncologist, not to get her into a REAL fucking hospital, oh, no.

THEIR first impulse was to make her sign-away her power of attorney, so that I couldn’t kidnap her away from these greedy, heartless motherfuckers and get her to a REAL DOCTOR. THEN, only THEN, did they consent to take her to the hack-ass creepy-midget-motherfucker JOKE of a “doctor” that Teh Fallen Uterus uses (she probably enjoys the groping), who never did anything more investigative than SMEAR CARDS, which no serious medical professional has used since the NINETEEN EIGHTIES. She kept getting sicker, her abdomen became even more distended and bloated, she couldn’t stop what little she could ingest from flying out of both ends, she was regularly cussed-out and humiliated by the psycho-cunt that she’d adopted from the Methodist Children’s Home (and had been offered the opportunity to EXCHANGE HER FOR A NORMAL KID AND TURNED THEM DOWN!!!) for failing to control her severely-damaged bowels.

I begged Nannie to let me take over, to let me take her to Baton Rouge or New Orleans, to take her to a REAL doctor ANYWHERE, a REAL HOSPITAL, not this Hillbilly HellHole or the Roach Motel For Old Ladies (Lane Memorial, Zachary, LA, where they also killed my Great-Aunt Thelma) — but she said the Teh Fallen Uterus had to run the fucking show, she just turned passive on me all of a sudden, because they’d taken away her adulthood with a piece of hastily-notarized paper. I was forbidden from taking MY Nannie off of their precious fucking property.

And they got exactly what they wanted. They took her to the “E.R.” at yon Hillbilly HellHole (the joke of a “hospital” next door to L’Hotel du Fucktards), and the hack freshly-immigrated excuse for a doctor sent her home with a diagnosis of “stomach flu.” I shit you not. So, FIVE MONTHS LATER, they finally take her to get a fucking ultrasound of her still-distended and agonizing gut, and whattayaknow. Cancer.
And who does teh Fallen Uterus get to carve my Nannie up like a fucking xmas turkey? A FUCKING E.R. DOCTOR WHO LOST HER LICENSE TO PRACTICE THE FOLLOWING YEAR. Not once, no, no, that wasn’t enough to kill her, she had to cut her up TWICE. And of course, the cunts couldn’t even fucking bother to call me until it was TOO FUCKING LATE and Nannie was almost dying.

I drove 95 mph from New Orleans to Zachary, never got stopped by a cop, amazingly enough, didn’t slow down until I hit the Roach Motel parking lot, and Teh Dick was waiting for me out in the parking lot to tell me, with great glee on his behalf, that she was already dead.

And now this fucktarded motherfucker wants to cop a fucking attitude with ME for not wanting to ride around Baton Rouge and Baker (’cause auto transport is SO fucking enjoyable, seven weeks out of TWO MAJOR FUCKING SPINE SURGERIES, NEITHER OF WHICH DID HIS MAJESTY HAVE THE TIME OR DESIRE TO BE THERE FOR, WHATSOFUCKINGEVER, WHILST HIS PRECIOUS SON WAS STEALING MY MEDICINE OUT OF MY FUCKING PURSE. My guts were splayed out on the operating-room table, his alcoholic-junkie son gets to steal my flexerils out of my fucking purse. Or Teh Fallen Uterus did it for him.) in service to Her Royal Majesty, The Bitch Who Spawned Him. A bitch who’s called me exactly ONCE in my life, LOOKING FOR CAMEL-TOE SISTER’S PHONE NUMBER. Yeah, oh, right, I wanna ride all over the fucking COUNTRY helping HER. Suuuuuuure.

Somebody fucking explain to me why THAT bitch “deserves” to live, why she deserves the red-carpet treatment, when my Nannie didn’t fucking deserve even so much as a REAL FUCKING DOCTOR?!?!?!?!

Oh, and I’m supposed to go eat “Thanksgiving” dinner with these people. I’m bringing the sweet potatoes. Somebody also explain to me why I should leave out the ground glass.

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  1. 1. RenB Said:


    The LAST time I was cooking a Thanksgiving dinner… with guests due I was told one> before they arrived that our bedroom and guest room work room had been sold weeks before, and that I had to give them up. Like the day before. You know that… And that I would have to move OUT.

    And that I had supposed to have left them five weeks before. Except, oops, he forgot to fucking TELL me.

    I was so shocked I was Marcia Cross in Desperate Housewives, hey. But I went OUT there and put on the show of my life. I was such a perfect host, I made SURE that everything was PERFECT. And it was. After I barfed six times into the toilet before they arrived….. But I was perfect, hey. For once, I was perfect, while dying inside.

    I guess I that is why I like that series.

    Your context is so much worse, tja, Liebes. No one can make it better. All you do is go on, and hope for something better, and rather not celebrate these things. I have never ‘celebrated’ Thanksgiving again. EVER.

    It can’t rival anything in your life, but there are people in your life who HURT you so badly that you HAVE to put it away. Or how can I believe you can survive, huh?

    Know I love you. And if I could figure out a way to get a pumkin pie to LA in time …. I would.

    All you can ever do is have yourself scraped off the street with a spatula, and pick yourself off, dust yourself off, and say ‘I’M fucking INVISIBLE!’ And do the walk and the talk….

    And go on.

    You know and I know that is garbage… but together, possible.

    Whatever, you try to have a good time, you hear me?


  2. 2. Agent Orange Said:

    I’ll drink to that!

  3. 3. RenB Said:

    Prost, AO! Hope all is ok.

    Typo, can’t do HTML to save my old fart ass. Should have been: an ‘hour’ before the guests arrived. I had an hour to pull myself together and finish dinner. And it was the WORKS. If yer gonna show ‘ferners’ what a real Thanksgiving dinner looks like, you do it RIGHT. You know?

    And Annti? I REALLY said, ‘try to have a good time?’ I’m sorry. I must have been out of my mind. Banal. It was one of those social reflex things, being ‘polite’. Or something. To tell the truth, tried to get my doctor stuff done today, and had a re-run of last Monday. My heart again. It gets kind of skeery, just between us….

    Just get through it.

  4. 4. Terrible Said:

    shopping for handguns?? Hell Annti! Ya know I’d hook ya up and let ya borrow a throw away!

    ground glass?? Go with something they won’t notice as quickly. Don’t they make some kinda tasteless Exlax type stuff? PCP might be fun if you could get the hell out of there before it kicks in. ;-)

  5. 5. Anntichrist S. Coulter Said:

    Oh, puh-huh-leaze. We’re talking about rank amateurs. Psych meds and alcohol are about as exotic as they’ve ever had, they’d be up on the ceiling like Ringo Star, and I’d have to be the one knocking them down with a rake.

    ExLax is sooooooo obvious, darlin’. Ground glass can be easily disguised amongst carmelized pecans topping the sweet potatoes.

    What really sucks is that Oldest Niece wants me to come to HER Thanksgiving (since her black boyfriend and my half-black great-niece won’t be allowed on THEIR property, she’s throwing a protest Thanksgiving), but she’s scheduled it simultaneously with THEIR “thanksgiving,” so I’m shit up a tree for anybody to come get me and drive me to niece’s house in Baton Rouge.

    Whodathunkit, I have TOO MANY invites — that’s never happened in my LIFE. I even had a huge-hearted and loving invite from Cat-Haven Cathy to come to her house and avoid these fuckers, and I can’t even get my ass to her house! Breaks my heart that I can’t go, and probably won’t get to see the babies at Oldest Niece’s house, dammit.

    I’m sick of being cripple and I’m sick of my fucking relatives and I’m sick of all of this bullshit. I want to go back to having my own life and spending fake fucking holidays the way that I *want* to spend them, dammit.

  6. 6. SeattleDan Said:

    So we need to get your life back. You know that T. and I want that. And we still think you need to get away, even if for a while.

    We had our offer accepted today, subject to a 10 feasiblity test. If that works, we close in May. Come stay with us, at least for a while. Get away. Get some distance. You can always go back. I know the lure of “home”. but take a fuckin’ vacation. We’ll be in touch.

  7. 7. RenB Said:

    Pfft. Guns. Ground glass. All you need is some insulin. Small injection, the needle point disappears,and give one hearty injection, and the blood sugar level disappears to below existance. As well as the ‘patient’. It has been done here. A black widow SPIDER who looked like your run-of-the-mill nice Grandma, but she had this gambling habit, see, and went through four mink coats, many gambling debts, some houses, legendary.

    Sorry, have been musing on a murder mystery I have been trying to finish for a long time, and the hook still isn’t there. AND JUST LEAVE IT, ok?

  8. 8. RenB Said:

    And Annti, if Dan and Tammy really mean that, you GO. Get OUT of there. You’ll land on your feet, believe me. I was lucky. I was 26 and naive. But I would NEVER go back. Oh wait, I did… after fifteen years… And after three days I wanted to come back home, here. Ten days in Hell, but hey, I got to shop….. Right. Faulkner was right. Probably not in the way he thought, but he was right.

    Sorry, Seattle T und D. You can e-mail me at austro ren in one word, at yahoo dot com. I meant well… and don’t mean to interfere in any way. That was so kind.

    People can come into your lives and come to mean much to you, you know?

    Annti is a miracle.

  9. 9. Terrible Said:

    I’m with Dan Annti. I think that would be great. I’d actually been meaning to e-mail and say as much for a while now, since you’d mentioned a few weeks ago you were thinking of it. I don’t like to say “that’s a good idea” or that’s a bad idea” when people think of moving to a new locality or even taking a vaca. But in this case I really do think it is something to at least check out for a while. Of course I’ve been giving some thought to heading that way someday too so I’m biased. I’ve never been further west then Missouri and would love to see the west and the Pacific one day.

  10. 10. Anntichrist S. Coulter Said:

    Danno, m’love, you & T never cease to amaze me.

    I just keep getting my dreams of escape weighed-down by actualities of moving all of my shit and traveling cross-country and so forth and so on, the minutiae that drives me batshit.

    I’m so happy that y’all got a good offer on the house!!! If anybody deserves to escape and rise above, it’s y’all.

    Lemme know what’s going on and how I can help. I don’t know if I’ll ever be physically capable of getting my ass over there (or having anywhere to stash my shit safely if I just come for a visit), but it makes me happy to know that y’all are getting away from teh yuppie scum overdevelopers, etc. Doing your own thang, dammit.

    Love y’all, love all of y’all who care about me for whatever bizarre reasons that you do.


  11. 11. Terrible Said:

    I know what you mean about moving shit Annti. That’s always a major drag! I’m lucky in that when I moved to NC for a while I left my stuff at one of my brothers. I may do that again in the future but kinda hate to impose on him too much.

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