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Crazy Family & Inlaw stories



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I wish I could claim this story for my own but alas it is my best friends mothers life and I cannot steal her crazy stories since I have none of my own. They bought a pet monekey one year for Christmas. The type that dance when an organ player plays. Well, they had this monkey for a year and it loved thier dad. Their dad was an alcoholic and so became the monkey. He would put his finger in his dad's beer because he knew he could finish it off that way when the dad would not drink after the monkey. The next Christmas all of the kids came down the stairs Christmas morning to find their drunk monkey named Elvis passed out in a pile of Christmas paper cause he had opened all of the presents, crapped on em all and then passed out drunk in the papers. It was their worst Christmas ever!! I just think this is the funniest story in the world...had to share!

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He reportedly was shipped off to a monkey farm...but this was per her alcoholic father. So I who knows what happened.

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My gosh, I can actually close my eyes and imagine that mess. Poor little guy probably tore open all the presents looking for bananas but just found socks and flannel pajamas.

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I have a few relatives of note. My grandfather divorced my grandmother (and got custody of the kids) and then married Grandma's little sister. My mother and her brother--whose aunt became their live-in step-mother--understandably have a somewhat "askew" view of what constitutes "normal" family behavior. That uncle and his wife married and divorced three of four times before she got smart.

On the other side of the family, my grandma used to wash paper plates and hang them on the clothesline to dry (the aunts ran around and tore them up and trashed them), and that grandma's youngest daughter now takes her phone off the hook for the entire month of January...to save money. We keep telling her that it doesn't cost anything to ANSWER the phone, but she doesn't see it that way.

I remember the Ellie who killed her son's molester. I thought she was dying of cancer.

Lisa, I do not think that your youthful environment would have caused me to seek comfort in food. I'm pretty sure I'd have become a serial killer.

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I laughed so hard the walls shook! Sue, you slay me. My momster's side of the family is still re-using the same aluminum foil from the 70s. They slice toothpaste open with a razor to scrape the inside. Once I got attacked by over 100 laundry baskets that fell on me when I opened a door. Momster said they were on sale at the 99cent store, so she bought every one. I tried to take one but she snatched it back cuz “they are mine.” How is spending over a hundred bucks on dollar baskets saving money when you only need one or two your entire life?

She accusing me of stealing her used gum. I admitted having seen an odd plastic cup filled with what appeared-to-be used gum wads and told her where to find it. She used it to patch the holes in the house before painting, and then got really pissed when the weather hit 90 degrees and the gum slithered down the sides of the house. Then there was the time I stole the spring/stick thing that holds the toilet paper in the roll, and the time I stole her trashcan lids. I must be a klepto.

Momster screwed my older sister up real good so now Insaina (Elena) is a narcissistic freak that lives in this delusional plastic world. She thinks she’s a Hollywood and "fixes" all our pictures before sharing them. She literally shaves 50 pounds off every one of my pics and erases all my chins. I've had huge fights telling her to leave my pictures the hell alone and stop making me into something I'm not. She finally promised to stop "adjusting" my body. I should have chosen my words more carefully cause today she sent me the attached picture. Take a close look at my bondo teeth. I look like one of the "Swans" after total dental reconstruction. My real teeth are a lovely shade of yellowish gray (appropriate for my age) and I have big gaps on the sides of my top teeth.

My deceased grandparents left us with a picture from their 50th wedding anniversary. Grandma died at 300 pounds, but Insaina put her on Jenny Craig (via the magic of software) after she died. Now Grandma’s wearing a svelte size 12 in her portrait. Who does she think she’s kidding? Is it too late to sign up for that serial killer gig?

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Aunt Francie--the eldest sister of the Phone-Free January's aunt--painted. Almost everything...with a roller. Screens dirty? Silver paint! Wish you had purchased the green car instead? No problem. She really, really painted her car with a roller. Not long before she got shipped off to the home for the permananetly bewildered, she called me. She had some papers and photos she wanted me to have. I'm a freak for family memorabilia, so grabbed my kid and called my sister and we went. Boxes and boxes of newspaper clippings. The most valuable one, as far as I could tell, was the clipping featuring actor Robert Young (1950's "Father Knows Best") and his wife coming home from the hospital with their baby. She read that one to me several times. Aunt Francie also apparently had a thing for the cheese powder from generic mac & cheese...because by the time we got there, there were at least two dozen opened boxes--in the fridge--with the cheese packets missing.

The grandfather on that side, although kind and loving to me, was a real SOB to his wife and daughters. My grandmother was a virtual slave, at the very least verbally abused her whole life. Sex on demand, babies, housework. She never really mastered English. She had no friends. She only ANSWERED the phone, never once made a call. So excuse me while I chuckle at this little ditty. Grandpa had a stroke. Crash, boom on the living room floor. She covered him up with a blanket. Two days later one of my fireman uncles stopped in and became hysterical! "Ma! What happened?" he demanded. "Papa fall down," she replied. I have always wondered if a little part of her silently also said, "and if the SOB had ever let me use the f'ing telephone, I might have called someone." (Grandpa survived that one and lived for several more years.)

I would love your laundry baskets story if it were not for the "Fresh Start" laundry detergent supply I own. I loved it because you only need a quarter cup. But P&G stopped making it and I was sad...until I found it at the odd lots place. We bought what has turned out to be a several-years supply of it. When our kid stops by and looks in the cupboard, she turns away slowly and says, "Uh, Guys? Is there a story to go with all the laundry detergent or do I have to make up my own?" (Did I mention she could be a bitch?)

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This is minor league I guess and not really my family, but:

My sister's MIL is nuts. She is over 40 and is living with her 18 year-old boyfriend. Her daughter (my sister's step-daughter) got pregnant. The MIL couldn't stand that her daughter was getting so much attention, so she got pregnant, too. And guess what they're going to name the baby? That's right: Abcde. You heard me. "Absidee" Spelled Abcde.

Nancy

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This is minor league I guess and not really my family, but:

My sister's MIL is nuts. She is over 40 and is living with her 18 year-old boyfriend. Her daughter (my sister's step-daughter) got pregnant. The MIL couldn't stand that her daughter was getting so much attention, so she got pregnant, too. And guess what they're going to name the baby? That's right: Abcde. You heard me. "Absidee" Spelled Abcde.

Nancy

There was a couple who named their kid ESPN, after...you know.

Your in-laws have seen one too many episodes of Sesame Street (or maybe not enough episodes, if we're being honest here) and think that "Abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz" (Pronounced "ab-cafe-ge-jekyl-manopquer-stuv-wickses," was a really neat street name or something).

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Nancy, I have some friends who named their daughter "Aabee". Their last name was Seay. (ABC). She'd crawl across the floor with "Aabee" embroidered in red across her little ruffly white panties. Wonder where that kid is today? Hmmm...

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Oh, yeah. And my husband's aunt by marriage bought herself a burial plot, right where she wanted to be for all eternity. And then refused to tell anyone where that was. BUT, that was probably okay, since if she had told her husband, he'd have forgotten. We know that because, when he got tired of the kids "borrowing" money from him, he put $30,000 into a coffee can and buried it somewhere out back. He never did recall exactly where. (But it WAS before he put the pond in...makes a body wonder.) When we gasped, he said "Don't make no difference to me where the hell that money is as long as them damned kids cain't get their hands on it." Gotta love family.

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Stop . . . stop . . . I'm laughing my ass off at work, and someone just stuck her head in my office to see what's going on.

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I am POSITIVE that I'm somehow related to Aunt Francie. Liana (the Momster) bondos everything and paints everything else with oil paint. She sold her house in California and drove across country to New Jersey, stopping in Vegas along the way. I would have probably packed a lot of clothing, toiletry and Snacks to drive cross-country. Not Liana, she packed a manual typewritter, 5 pound bags of brown rice, a large container of bondo and an assortment of oil paints. She scared the hell out of me as she unpacked the car (I thought she was just stopping by.) But she called me at work the next day asking, "how do you get orange oil paint out of your baby-blue carpet?" I didn't even respond, but came home to find orange cat paws permanently stained in my landlord's rug. I had a beautiful oak desk that I got dirt-cheap because of a small chip in the wood. She bondo'd the chip, then "matched" (in her mind) the orange oil paint to the wood, but had to keep painting to make the whole beautiful (used to be anyway) oak table orange. That table was next to the upstairs window for kitty to chatter at the birds.

Then I opened the fridge and all the Condiments fell on the floor as she yelled, "CAREFUL WITH THE FRIDGE CUZ IT'S DRYING." Drying? She bondo'd the shelf even though it wasn't broken, just in case it broke, and then it broke. Then my ceramic soap dish was missing... it was outside. You guessed it, the bondo was drying.

I came home as a teen to find my windows all smeared so you couldn't see through them. It took hours of scraping some weird crap off them only for her to come home screaming at me for destroying all her hard work. She mixed Elmer's Glue with Water and painted all the windows in the house, thinking she was brilliant cause now, "only small amounts of sunlight will come in." Uh, can you say "curtains?"

This is the same woman that fixed holes in the house with used gum. Thank God Momster doesn't have a phone, or her and Aunt Francie could share home decorating tips. Liana has many, many uses for a paint roller. Liana used to paint my clothes with oil paint to cover stains, then show them off thinking my friends were jealous of my original "fashion" designs. Note to board: Oil paint over bondo does not dry. Ever.

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