Sunday, August 28, 2011

The Time I Got Someone Else's Poop In My Eye

My dad's biological mom lives out on the east coast, and has for the majority of my life.  It's pretty routine that she and her husband Ed come to visit every two years.  Generally, they would spend one week or so with Ed's kids, and then a week at my dad's house before starting the trek back home.  During those formative years when living with my dad, I would obviously be present for the visits with Grandma and Ed.  It didn't take long for me to form a negative opinion of Grandma's husband, and being the person that I am, I naturally made it clear that there were things about him I did not approve of.

The first time this happened I was home with Ed and Grandma (who, by the way is the SWEETEST WOMAN EVER), and it was approaching lunchtime.  Ed decides he's hungry.  Ed turns to Grandma and tells her that he wants a sandwich.  Knowing that Grandma is more than ready to promptly get up and make his sandwich for him, I am quick to notify Ed that if he's hungry there's deli meat in the fridge and the bread is in the cupboard.  When Ed gives me a dirty look, Grandma gets up and makes his sandwich.  She puts it on the dining table, we all sit down together and eat (I made my own sandwich thankyouverymuch).  As soon as Ed finishes, he gets up, leaves his dishes at the table for Grandma to put away and proceeds to walk past the dishwasher.  I alert him to the fact that since clearly his legs and arms aren't broken, and since he has to pass the dishwasher anyways, he's certainly capable of taking his own dishes and putting them in the dishwasher since Grandma was kind enough to make his lunch for him.  It worked.  Several similar circumstances have occurred over the years, which have taught Ed that I do not tolerate seeing him treat my Grandma like his servant.  Not once do I ever see him get her a drink or a snack or ask her if she needs anything, but he expects her to be at his beckon call. 

A couple weeks ago, Grandma and Ed came for a visit, and this time, they stayed at our house for a night.  True to form, Ed tried to get Grandma to do everything for him, short of wiping his ass.  To be honest, I'd have preferred if he got her to do that for him, because then maybe I wouldn't have contracted PINK EYE.

Ed got his revenge.  Knowing he was on my turf, he was in prime position to engage in some subtle biological warfare to retaliate against my  modern-day, woman's-lib mentality.  He decided to stop washing his hands after using the facilities, spreading his fecal bacteria on countless surfaces.  I think I can say with confidence that I contracted the conjunctivitis when electing to do my make-up at the dining table so that Grandma could have the bathroom.  After using the facilities myself, I washed my hands, grabbed my makeup bag and headed off to the table where I was touching my eye.  My mistake was not washing my hands again after opening up the bathroom door.

Do you know what it feels like knowing that your eye is discoloured because you have someone else's poop in your eye?  Even worse when you know precisely whose poop it was, and it comes from someone who should not only know better, but was actively trying to get you all worked up the whole time he was in your home?

This is an 82 year old man who found it appropriate to wear nothing but tighty whitey's as pajamas and walk around the house that way with no intentions to cover up.  *Shudder*.

Grandma,  you're welcome back anytime - but next visit?  Let's have you leave Ed and his dirty hands at home, yes?

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Scarred for Life


Some things you just can't unsee.

I'm pretty sure I just brushed the top three layers off of my tongue to make sure it doesn't look like this.  Maybe you should too.