tobermory's Diaryland Diary


ya-ya heinu?

Ok. Before I go on this little rant, I should probably put in a disclaimer. Although most of my family doesn’t know an ass from an elbow as far as a computer or the internet is concerned and the chances of them stumbling upon this little slice o’Diaryland is pretty freaking unlikely, I had better make it clear that this is MY DIARY. I might just wind up writing about you and you just might not like it. If you think this might be the case, toughski shitski. I’d recommend that you stop reading right about now and if you do keep reading, don’t blame me for my feelings or for articulating them here. Look at it this way – it’s way, w-a-y, better than me having some sort of colossal meltdown in person. Although so far in this diary I have been using my friend’s first names, in the case of family I will endeavor to use some sort of pseudonyms. That all said, I am about ready to pull my hair out. I never thought it would all come down to me being the one in my family to try to make plans to keep us all together. I figured it would be #1 Son because he always seems to have his heart in the right place and to want to do The Right Thing. #2 Son lives out of state, so I had to guess it wouldn’t be him. I’m just not the type, so I figured it wouldn’t be me. Anyway, I digress. Wife of #2 Son is in town right now with my two nephews. Normally this would entail them spending a few nights with her parents in the city and then a few with my parents in the suburbs. But due to the medical problems my dad has been having it was deemed best if the whole gang just stayed in the city. Who wants to see Grandpa with bloody Kleenex wrapped around his schwantz as he so eloquently put it. This put the kibosh on the regular meet and greet where we would all get together for a lunch. So, I got the call to put together a dinner. Son #1 said he would attend and bring his kids, which would make a party of eight. To make things easier on Wife of Son #2 I made a reservation at a restaurant very near where she was staying in the city. This morning Son #1 bugged out with his kids citing ‘homework’. I found this to be particularly irritable as Wife of Son #2 and kids only come into town about twice a year. C’mon now – how much of an effort would it really take to just get everyone together? It’s not like this dinner will go into the wee hours. Then I got a voice mail from Wife of Son #2. She taking the kids into the Loop today and could we pick here up there instead and maybe we could all just eat somewhere down there? SCREAM! I work in the western suburbs. I live on the very near north side. That commute alone takes me about an hour, much less adding the time it will take to get into the Loop. There is no way we will be able to make it to the original restaurant in time for our reservation. We will have to smoosh everyone into my car. It will be supremely unpleasant. Even Steve, the most patient and understanding man on the planet, found this whole set-up to be irritating. He asked if they could take a cab to the restaurant. I did not suggest this in my conversation with Wife of Son #2 because she did not bring it up and I did not think it would be met with enthusiasm. One must tread lightly with this woman. So no, that was not an option. Could we take the L down to meet them? No. Also not an option. How would we get them back to where they were staying? I almost just bagged the whole fucked up extravaganza – this cavalcade of whimsy if you will (thanks to Matt Groening), but I relented and cancelled the reservation at the nice Italian place and now I have no idea where we will be eating tonight, but I can pretty much guess that the whole evening will suck majorly and I’ll end up eating with two overtired, picky, crabby kids at some ya-ya heinu* chain restaurant. Believe me, you’ll get the whole sordid story tomorrow.

ya-ya heinu was a term invented by my cousin-in-law. Heinu is pronounced hey-noo and it was a term thought up to describe something of completely horrific heinousness and bad taste. Like a TGIFridays. Where I will probably have to eat tonight.

I’ve been reading Marn’s Big Adventure here on Diaryland (I can only explain that my propensity for typing Dairyland instead of Diaryland is due to having grown up next to Wisconsin, which as we all know is America’s Dairyland. Or so their license plates tell me.) Anyway, Marn makes me want to get the Hell out of the city, move to a vast wooded area, and live in a cabin. I suppose this is particularly appealing right now as then I could just get away from everyone and everything. No family obligations, simple lifestyle….I must be PMS-ing because I’m feeling mighty crabby right about now. Sympathy cards may be sent to Steve care of…. Just kidding. Or not.

4:26 p.m. - 2004-03-18


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