My weekend. Hoo boy.

I told several people this weekend that I am moving to LA. Mauricio, his wife, and my friend Jackie all took it with aplomb and were totally unfazed by this (shocking). Okay, I didn't expect Jackie to be shocked because she's had the whole LA calling thing for longer than I have. Basically, she hasn't moved while she's still employed and her 80-year-old grandma is still alive. Though she told me she got warned she'd be laid off in 2013--apparently her place of work gives REALLY long notice on this shit? Bizarre. Anyway, she wants to follow me down there.

Activity-wise, I went to the Scottish Games and well, bought more stuff like usual. I got my hair trimmed. I went to see the play Finian's Rainbow--not the world's best plot there, but I've seen worse. I tooled around Palo Alto and SF with Jackie. All of that went pretty well.

But here's a few things that went down:
On Friday afternoon, Mom got her eyes dilated. (Even worse, she apparently has some cataracts and now has to get tested for glaucoma. Aw shit.) This was apparently the Worst Dilation Of All Time (I gather it didn't go well, they dumped a lot of solution into her eyes more than intended) and she was so fucked up she couldn't come get me at the train station. So she called Mauricio and his wife to come get me, and eventually we met at the nearest restaurant area to the hospital. Her eyes were STILL fucked up by the time dinner was over, so I had to drive her home. Now, this time it went relatively okay, she mostly kept her mouth shut, I didn't crash anything, all was well. I did a little bit of driving on Saturday (from Scottish Games to Safeway and then to her friend's house) and it was mostly fine. A little more bitching, but still not screaming.

On Sunday, Mom just woke up fucking crazy. She decided to bail on the plans that we had made for the day, and ... Well. I don't think I have mentioned that she gave Internet Boyfriend a bunch of expensive shit of my dad's so she could buy his love, such as (we'll leave it at the one example) Dad's $1400 watch. Mom wants it back (I pointed out that a watch is not a conditional engagement gift, but hah on logic here). Will she suck it up and tell him this? So far, nope. No, she wants ME to go over there while I am in Arizona (alas, Jess lives fairly close by to the guy's town) and pick it up. MAILING IT IS NOT ACCEPTABLE. EVEN WITH INSURANCE. I pointed out that it could be stolen out of my luggage by the TSA just as easily these days, but, nooooo. Seriously, I HAVE TOLD HER NO MULTIPLE TIMES ON THIS SHIT. I have told her I don't want to meet the guy. I have told her that I WILL SAY THINGS SHE DOESN'T WANT ME TO SAY TO HIM if I have to meet him. I keep saying no.

I know goddamn well that all of my no's mean nothing here. The escalating crazy isn't going to stop. She'll be screaming at me. She was attempting to look up Jess's contact information (hah, she couldn't find it) today. She won't let this shit go until SHE GETS WHAT SHE WANTS, DAMMIT. Doesn't work with a man, of course, but when I've got someone being hysterical crazy at me, and I have to deal with her for life, it's just easier to give in. If I'm yelling no at her for the thousandth time and it still doesn't make a dent, what the fuck else can I do?

Anyway, speaking of fucking crazy, Mauricio, feeling rather disturbed after Mom bailed on the plans for the day, rode his bike over to see what the hell was going on, and volunteered to at least come back to town with us to drop me off. Otherwise known as "heading off the crazy." At one point he picked up some microwave plate and wanted to throw it out and she was all, "Noooooo! I can donate it!" She actually grabbed onto him and was trying to make him drag her across the floor because she would not, could not, give up the fucking plate. Remember, guys, this is what a hoarder looks like. "Donate it," my ass.

Anyway, he wanted to go back to his house to shower, so we had to pick him up later. I drove over there. And THAT is when the crazy erupted. First she was picking the shit out of me for not stopping 100% perfectly smoothly by her definition of nitpicking (hey, the DMV guy was fine with it), but she bitched I was giving her whiplash because I didn't do her typical California rolling stop (i.e. she doesn't unless she has to). This escalated until she was screaming at me on the freeway-- once again, YOU DON'T WANT TO SCREAM AT A NERVOUS DRIVER ON THE FUCKING FREEWAY. By the time we got off of it, I deliberately did the worst fucking whiplash stop possible on her, and at the first possibility, pulled the car over and said I was never doing this again, fuck her fucking "give me a chance," clearly she can't restrain herself worth a goddamn for ANYTHING no matter how much I ask her not to. In her mind, of course, she's not screaming, she's "teaching." I was all, remember how I couldn't fucking learn how to drive from you at 16? This is still the fucking case!

You know, I really do need driving practice with another human being in the car before moving to LA. Especially on the freeway. But I cannot fucking do it with her and she's my only option. I don't know how to solve this problem.

There were two moments of delusion that really got to me this weekend. Besides the driving.
1. Mom saying to me with big sad eyes and pleading in her voice, "I really meant it when I told you and your shrink that I was going to clean the house! I really really really want it clean!" I said that if you actually wanted it clean, you'd DO something about it because I don't care how much you swear in blood that you wanted it, that doesn't mean shit if you won't throw anything out.

2. Between going to the Scottish Games and going to the play that night on Saturday, Mom wanted us to go to her friend Pat's house to show off our haircuts. Mom was CONVINCED it would only take five minutes. Let's just say I made sure to stop off and get dinner first. Anyway, of course Mom did a lot of shopping. Pat is a total miser and bitches Mom out for shopping, which of course she did now. I actually said to her, "You TRULY BELIEVED that Mom could go to ANYTHING and not spend money? REALLY?" "Yes!" she said. "I really believed that!" I just flat out yelled at her, "Then you're deluded!" Pat is the Anvil of Bluntness on everyone else, I can certainly do it back to her. She actually agreed that I had a point.

See, this kind of thing is why I hate optimistic thinkers and hopeful people and True Believers. I've heard enough shit like this out of Mom, and ex-boyfriends, and other people, and it makes me want to punch people in the face. I'm sure they believe this shit with all their wittle bitty hearts. They are utterly sincere at that moment in time, and if you ever ask them about what they're not doing they'll swear up and down that they meant it. And then, guess what, all that belief does nothing for them. The pieces don't fall into place. In fact, nothing changes with them whatsoever except that they go into periodic whining fits that they haven't done what they really wanted yet, or someone like me comes along and drops the reality anvil on 'em and then they pout about it.

How the hell am I supposed to believe with all my wittle bitty nonexistent burned-out heart in something happening, when I look at all of these True Believer fucking deluded crazy people who get nothing done with Teh Powerz Of Belief? How am I supposed to ignore reality such as "I can't even practice driving on a freeway right now, how do I think I'm gonna move?" And how is ignoring reality going to get me anywhere?

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