Sister's Potential Stepson and Child played rockerstars. My sister dressed them, and I didn't pay that much attention, which was possibly a mistake.
It was kind of like Marilyn Manson meets Green Day. With Child in vinyal thigh high boots of Sister's, six inch and platform, that looked like pants, and little vinyl shorts that disturbingly fit Sister's waist as well as Child's. Red highlights in his hair and black eyeliner on his face complimented the entire ensemble. Potential Stepson of Sister wore plaid boxers and a wife beater and played guitar. Child was frontman.
I had flashbacks to Rocky Horror Picture Show, and not in a good way.
My sister taped the entire nightmare while my life flashed before my eyes, and then we all watched it together and laughed ourselves sick while Child wailed into a microphone, and I quote here:
"You don't know what it's liiiikeee..
To be left alone
In the *dark*
I'm just a little kid."
(accusing look at camera--I try to remember leaving him alone in the dark)
(child does weird hand motions and capers about. In platform boots. No, capers, really, in six inch platform boots. I can't even *walk* in six inch heels)
(Child: can I use the b word?
So you just get out--baby.
Baby you just get out.
Because you don't know what it's like....
repeat from above
And people wonder why I've stared a psychological counseling fund for Child's teens.
It's probably terribly boring to be this fascinated in my offspring, but seriously, this kid just blows my mind sometimes. He's picked up a creepy habit of speaking in platitudes.
Case in point.
"Nick, get off the cabinet door. You're going to break it."
"Jenn (he calls me this. I don't get it) is a cabinet more important than your own son?"
"I have medical insurance on you. The cabinet doesn't."
The thing is, he does this *all the time*. He has a platitude for every occasion, and it's freaking me out, because I have this sneaking suspicion he's doing it to see if he can actually make me start grinding my teeth faster each time. I really, really need to watch Nickelodean with him and see what horrifyingly moral show is dirtying his mind and stop that educational nonsense right off the bat.
Plus, he takes a fiendish delight in telling my parents about what Mommy watches on TV. He somehow zeroes in on the stuff that we all know disturb my parents most--Carnivale, Queer as Folk, certain Buffy episodes. What I can't figure out is how he's figuring this stuff out--I've moved everything, and I mean *everything* not G rated or already approved--to the top of my closet. My computer is locked down when I'm not home, after that Unfortunate Discovery He Knows How to Use a VCR. He's heard me talk about it to my sister or some friends, but that's about it.
It's not necessarily to upset Mommy--he just loves my parents looking horrified. I should probably put a stop to it, but as a kid, I was very, very good and never shocked or horrified my parents. My youngest sister always did, and I find this kind of unfair. So it's kind of a warm fuzzy glow when Child can do it for me.
A five day soft block, two day hard block, broke lightly yesterday, and I ended up writing about five thousand words or so throughout the day on three separate stories. The thing that annoys me is, the one I'm writing the most on is the one that shouldn't interest me at all, but I have this really improbable scene that I have to write. I just *have* to, it hits my funny bone in all the right ways.
jainieg is killing me. Just for reference.
Also, sisabet called me a gateway fandom drug. *squints* If I were just a little more egotistical, I'd so iconize that, just to cheer me up on hard block days. It's nice I'm not that egotistical today. I'll just giggle to myself and think happy thoughts. Because today, clients were annoying, I worked forty minutes overtime, and my new haircolor wouldn't wash properly and stained my skin a little and I had to damage skin to get that crap off my shoulders.
But. Gateway drug!
I'm so easy.