I Love Drinking!

Like I said yesterday, my wife and I have decided to start playing a drinking game anytime we're around her sister. She's a spectacular piece of work. As I alluded to yesterday, her greatest joy in life in making others feel bad. She carries an air of superiority about her that is nauseating, at best, if it doesn't make you want to rip her throat out with your bare teeth. That is, if you want to get that close to her.

Anyway, I was on my best behavior during the 48 hours or so that I was around her. Still, I had to seek refuge in the basement, away from her, on several occasions. It just got to be too much.

For starters, she brought a gallon of organic whole milk for her kids to drink. They drank nothing but. Because her kids drink organic whole milk, they don't get sick. *ahem* Oh, I'm sorry. I had a little tickle in my throat. I think I picked up a cold from my nieces as they were dribbling their runny, snotty noses all over me and my kids.

She also canceled most of her cable, which means that her kids don't watch cartoons. Their first priority is to play outside. They don't play video games. However, they both climbed all over my daughter to watch her play her hand-held gaming device. Coincidentally, my daughter also caught a cold from the children that never get sick.

She also went apoplectic about my kids really enjoying their pie from the post-dinner catastrophe that still has my OCD flinching and squirming like a bug that's just smashed against your windshield. I mean, they both had one piece of pie after dinner and one more piece of pie before bed as a treat. My sister-in-law kept going on, "I just don't understand your kids and their obsession with pie. My girls don't like pie. They'd much rather have tomatoes."

Well, here. Here's a shit pie. Serve yourself a big slice. My kids get pie at Thanksgiving and Christmas and occasionally during the spring when I remember what day Pi day is (March 14). So, fuck you very much when it comes to your kids not liking pie. Besides, I have theory as to why they don't like pie, but it's kind of mean. I'll just say...do any of you remember on Family Guy when they cut to the scene at John Goodman's Thanksgiving table? Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.

I'd say that she has a "my shit doesn't stink" attitude, but her attitude is more of a "I don't poop at all, and I only fart rainbows and fairy dust." Can you imagine what would happen if she took a tour through this joint on a Thursday? Heh. I think I might go to Blog2Print, publish a copy of my finest, shittiest TMI posts, and send it to her for Christmas.

Anyway, remember how I mentioned she was religious. Well, Wednesday night, we all met at a restaurant for a pre-Thanksgiving gluttony fest wherein we destroyed some chicken wings. As the evening wore on, my children were getting bored, as were my nieces. So, my daughter got up and played with my youngest niece, and they were dancing around in circles together. This upset my older niece and, because she was upset, she turned and faced the brick wall behind the table and, I shit you not, started praying. Like, sign of the cross, folded hands, forehead against the wall praying. For a second, I thought I was at Knoxville's version of the Wailing Wall. My mother-in-law asked my niece what she was doing, because my mother-in-law saw that my niece was clearly upset that she wasn't playing with my daughter and my other niece. My older niece then turned to my mother-in-law and said, "I'm saying a prayer." Rather emphatically at that. She then turned back to the wall and restarted the prayer!, sign of the cross and everything.

This was a sign of things to come (no pun intended). For nearly 48 straight hours, my sister-in-law told us about what was going on at the church, about the new priest, the shut-ins, the Hispanic population--oh, no, wait, I'm sorry, the Mexicans, said with just enough disdain to let you know clearly what she thinks of them. She talked about counseling, about holy sacraments, about various pieces of church equipment that had been purchased, about retreats and about the "nun run".

You know what a nun run is? It's where the diocese charters a bus and hauls your ass around to all of the convents, seeing if you get a good feeling about joining any of them.

I'm not sure what the capper was, though. It was either when she was complaining to my father-in-law for not finishing the kneeler she requested he make her last Christmas, or the "love retreat". The love retreat was particularly awesome because, if you go on the love retreat, you're not allowed to say anything all weekend long, unless it's inspired by love. I'm going to guess I'd get kicked out when, during circle time, I'd pipe up with "Boy, I love masturbating. And cheese fries."

And if she wasn't yammering something about the church, she was talking about her friend Lisa, whom she met at church and is pretty much the same as my sister-in-law.

This is what caused my wife and I to come up with the following drinking game:

1) Every time she talks about church, that's a sip.
2) Every time she talks about Lisa, that's a sip.
3) Every time she says "Let your joy out" (or whatever the Virtue of the day is), that's a sip.
4) Every time she mentions retreats, counseling, or any other Holy Rite, that's a sip.
5) Every time she mentions Lisa AND church in the same story, that's two sips.
6) Every time one of her children spontaneously burst into prayer, finish the drink.
7) Every time she makes some backhanded insult as to the way we're raising our children, finish the drink and bash her fucking skull in with the bottle.

I see this game catching on very well with my wife's family.