Oh grow up

Shit storm at this end of things. Construction isn't going particularly well. Major work slow down. Regretably this contractor sold us a great idea. Reality check pleaze!

On top of all this, it's Father's Day weekend. Happy day to you know who. On the other hand, the base of my gene pool, perhaps you could spend some time picking the lint out of your naval while you're so stuck looking there.

The short version of the story is that there's a sort-of family reunion this summer based on activities my Dad organized, oh, about 18 years ago. So, he started it.

Mr. Gene Pool sends off a blasting email to all the sibs whinging why isn't he and his squeeze invited. He closes his email (which to be sure we all get the message, he's sending via post) with the old evil eye "I hope your children ..." statement.

Good freaking luck with your pout-fest man. Some one's sold you a bill of goods on who and what this is all about. (This all kind of reminds me of the time my DXH stated that he would allow me to have access to our children for a family visit if HE could attend. At that time (it was during a mediation session), I asked him if it was his intent to pull up to the kitchen table and join the hen party, or would he sit in his car like a stalker and offer to watch everything going on?!!)

So, here's to the end of the discussions. I'm throwing my own hissy fit by deleting his email address from my listings (I already haven't written his post address in my address book). As soon as I can get the money scraped together, I'll send you everything you lent me. (REMEMBER - I took the money as a loan. I didn't want to be owing to you.)

I don't need this kind of juvi crap in my life coming from two sides.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a tantrum schedule that's long overdue.