So, Mike and I got to the "Red Setter" at precisely 9 o'clock last night, right on time, thanks to my husband's (very real) threat that he would "leave without me!" if I wasn't in the car by 8:45. Nonetheless, I was pissed when I realized that we were the first ones there out of the entire group. Mike's cool, pretty, funny sister, Karen, arrived a few minutes after we did, alone, without her husband--which no one mentioned.
"Hey! Have you two been here long?" she asked as she sat down. I shook my head, deliberately vague.
"Nah. We've been here like 20 seconds." Mike answered, much to my annoyance.
I realize that I should not have been aggravated by that answer. But I didn't like the fact that he'd given a specific amount of time we'd been waiting--and it wasn't even accurate. I mean, I thought we'd been there for at least a minute, maybe even two. If you're going to give such a detailed and specific answer to a question that warrants merely a yes or no answer, then do it in our favor, so it comes off like we've been sitting here drumming our fingers on the bar for a while, killing time, waiting for everyone else to show up. That way people start off feeling a wee bit guilty towards us, and more likely to pick up a round or two.
My annoyance at losing potential "guilt points" was totally unnecessary as it turns out. The real reason that Karen had asked the question was not to satisfy some needling concern that we might have been kept waiting, but rather because she had been sitting in her car, waiting to come inside and had not noticed us entering the bar. She was not asking out of concern, but merely curious as to how she'd missed us.
Eventually the rest of the group arrives and I quickly remembered why I never go to bars in a group...because it fucking sucks. It sucks because you're obligated to "hang" with your "crew," But these are not people you necessarily find interesting or would be seen in public with otherwise.
Anywho, Lisa, Mike's oldest sister, was there with her boyfriend, Joe, and Joe's brother (who's name I forget). Lisa is really, really ugly. In fact, one cannot adequately describe her without turning to the animal kingdom. She looks like a ferret, only pointier and less housebroken. She is possibly feral. I am frightened of/by her and have already determined that she is dangerous. So, I try extra hard to get her to like me, I buy her drinks and feign interest in her self-absorbed, tedious monologues and nod and smile and look her in the eye when she talks to me even if it is to ask rude and condescending questions like, "Is that what you wear to a bar?" Obviously, since we were in a bar, and I was fully dressed, this was a rhetorical question, and I just nodded and smiled and bit my tongue. Why did I bite my tongue? Because as my new husband's older sister, she gets a great deal more leeway than I might normally afford someone who insults me publicly...especially someone who's ensemble consists of the following:
Okay that's where my journal entry ends...but I want to insert here an update to this journal entry, defending my less-than-kind attitude towards my sister-in-law. The woman is a straight-up bitch. Not only did she insult me the very first time I met her:
Mike introduced us. She looked me up and down and said,
"So you're the girl who "got" Mike." she snorted, "Never thought he'd settle down so quick." (translation: "FYI: I'm on to you bitch. You may have fooled my little brother, but I can see right through your facade and I ain't buying what you're selling. Not by a longshot.")
My eyes glaze over as I desperately grasp for the appropriate response.
"Uh, yeah? I guess."
"Hey! Have you two been here long?" she asked as she sat down. I shook my head, deliberately vague.
"Nah. We've been here like 20 seconds." Mike answered, much to my annoyance.
I realize that I should not have been aggravated by that answer. But I didn't like the fact that he'd given a specific amount of time we'd been waiting--and it wasn't even accurate. I mean, I thought we'd been there for at least a minute, maybe even two. If you're going to give such a detailed and specific answer to a question that warrants merely a yes or no answer, then do it in our favor, so it comes off like we've been sitting here drumming our fingers on the bar for a while, killing time, waiting for everyone else to show up. That way people start off feeling a wee bit guilty towards us, and more likely to pick up a round or two.
My annoyance at losing potential "guilt points" was totally unnecessary as it turns out. The real reason that Karen had asked the question was not to satisfy some needling concern that we might have been kept waiting, but rather because she had been sitting in her car, waiting to come inside and had not noticed us entering the bar. She was not asking out of concern, but merely curious as to how she'd missed us.
Eventually the rest of the group arrives and I quickly remembered why I never go to bars in a group...because it fucking sucks. It sucks because you're obligated to "hang" with your "crew," But these are not people you necessarily find interesting or would be seen in public with otherwise.
Anywho, Lisa, Mike's oldest sister, was there with her boyfriend, Joe, and Joe's brother (who's name I forget). Lisa is really, really ugly. In fact, one cannot adequately describe her without turning to the animal kingdom. She looks like a ferret, only pointier and less housebroken. She is possibly feral. I am frightened of/by her and have already determined that she is dangerous. So, I try extra hard to get her to like me, I buy her drinks and feign interest in her self-absorbed, tedious monologues and nod and smile and look her in the eye when she talks to me even if it is to ask rude and condescending questions like, "Is that what you wear to a bar?" Obviously, since we were in a bar, and I was fully dressed, this was a rhetorical question, and I just nodded and smiled and bit my tongue. Why did I bite my tongue? Because as my new husband's older sister, she gets a great deal more leeway than I might normally afford someone who insults me publicly...especially someone who's ensemble consists of the following:
- a pair sloppy, homemade cutoff jean shorts (Wranglers) cut just above the knee, folded instead of hemmed, with straggling threads dangling out from the folds past her knee,
- a pair of dusty, dirty, ancient cowboy boots that instantly explain why boots are sometimes called "shit kickers,"; because that's exactly what it looks like they have been doing all their long life.
- a stained "wife-beater" (a thin, white tank-top undershirt) the cheapest kind imaginable, so thin, threadbare and shapeless it reminded me of the wet newspaper strips we used to make paper mache animals in grade school) which wouldn't be a problem, only, she hasn't bothered to put on a bra...and she doesn't have the kind of breasts which make that advisable. Her breasts look like two pastry bags which were going to squirt ganache piping onto the folds of her jean shorts at any moment. Also, did I mention that she had a copious amount of underarm hair? So much so that, even when she had her arms down at her sides, there were these tiny little afros trying to escape from the crack of her underarms. Totally distracting.
Okay that's where my journal entry ends...but I want to insert here an update to this journal entry, defending my less-than-kind attitude towards my sister-in-law. The woman is a straight-up bitch. Not only did she insult me the very first time I met her:
Mike introduced us. She looked me up and down and said,
"So you're the girl who "got" Mike." she snorted, "Never thought he'd settle down so quick." (translation: "FYI: I'm on to you bitch. You may have fooled my little brother, but I can see right through your facade and I ain't buying what you're selling. Not by a longshot.")
My eyes glaze over as I desperately grasp for the appropriate response.
"Uh, yeah? I guess."
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