The Ties that Bind Around Your Neck Until You're Blue and in the ER.

What is family? Are they those people who share the same blood? Do they mysteriously come around of a Sunday with teacake to ask how you've been? Are they the ones who ring up of a night and send you their love? For me, they are the people who give you a very good reason to neck yourself in the bathroom.

Don't get me wrong- I love most of my family. MOST being the effective word here. Like everyone else on this big ball we call a planet, I have relatives who would be classified as crazy by me but sane by everyone else. I guess when you've grown up knowing these people, you become accustomed to their mannerisms, their beliefs, their habits...and become really fucking irritated by them after 16 years (yes- I'm older but not wiser).

In case you're wondering as to why I'm writing this, It's been a week since I came back from the obligatory family visit. I was sort of there voluntarily as it was my aunt's 50th birthday, but soon enough I realised why pubs and drugs were invented- it's to stop civilization from going absolutely spare because of the dynasty to which I belong (against my will).

First it started with the younger cousin following me around ABSOLUTELY EVERYFUCKINGWHERE. It was madness- I mean, I know I'm supposed to go "Awww...it's so cute" but seriously, she's 10 and kept singing that shit Gabriella Cilmi song over and over, always finishing with a "Sorry- I'm annoying you aren't I?"
I just hate it because she was a part of that generation that decided that discipline isn't the answer to effective parenting (yet another thing we can thank those fuckers - the parenting books written by pseudo-intellectual twats with a million and 1 (fake) PhDs to make it seem that buying this crap is a good idea- for), so she's basically been allowed to do whatever the hell she wants, thus turning her into a spoilt brat. Don't get me wrong, I love the girl, I love her to bits...but seriously, once the brat within begins to surface, I consider the following actions:

1. stop playing who 'Who Shall I Kill First' and go for what feels natural
2. see above

Then there are the aunts. I love being with most of them but theres one (who is incidentally the mother of the brat) what really gets up my strides.....She's very Stepford Wives and that just really fucking pisses me off. She fusses and fusses and fusses...it's enough to make you want to turn into that chick off the exorcist all over the glazed ham. She gave me mugs for my birthday. Fucking mugs. I mean, I know there's that saying "Oh you know, it's the thought that counts"- well, I don't think there was much thought at all when they got bloody kitchenware for a 16 year old.

Then there is the blackmail- compulsory whenever I see my family. The shit flinging begins in the form of "Oh, we don't see you very often." Did it never occur to them that there may be a reason for that?

Now the attempts at changing who the hell you are. For those that know me, you have seen that I wear a very distinuishable hat. In fact, the only way you wouldn't be able to notice it was if you were blind because I'm pretty sure that the space race India and Pakistan will be based around whoever can see my hat form the moon first. Anyway, most people are cool with it, except my Grandma. Taking into account that she's a bit old fashioned I suppose I should be a bit less abrasive but COME ON- IT'S A HAT!!!! I'm not wearing camel turds, a flamethrower, crotchless pants or a suit made out of genitals. I am wearing a hat...hear that? HAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTT..... No genital suits- HAAAAAAT.
Anwyway, every time I see her I am hinted to take of the hat.

"Now darling, don't you think it would be a good time to take of the hat?"
"Missy, if we have a photo later, would you mind taking off the hat?"
"Come on, be a good girl and take off the hat for Grandma."

Not in your life, Miss Depends 2009.
Oh, she's stopped referring to me by my first name as well. I'm continuously called Missy. I honestly think senility has caught up with her and soon enough I'll be questioned on the best deals going for Avon/Hoover. She's started to call my Dad- her only son- the same.

I know I'm horrible. I've been made this way. The cruellest part about all this is that I still bloody well love them.