FoN and Superkeely vs. the Fucktard Sisters - Part III

I know - I’m sorry. This is morphing into a long one. It didn’t start out that way, but I’m on a roll now so you’re just going to have to come along for the ride. If you are just joining us, Part 1 is here, and Part 2 is here.

At some point during the evening Keely came up beside me with a good question.

“When was the last time you saw Valentina?”

“Ummm…...that is a good question. I’m not sure. Is she in the bathroom? Better yet, are the Fucktard Sisters still here?”

Keely and I looked at each other for a moment, collectively rolled our eyes and set off to find Valentina. We got about half way through the bar when a friend of ours stopped us to ask who the girl with giant hair was Valentina was talking to on the deck.

I think this is the point in the evening I realized there was no way I was getting out of this situation unscathed. Hmmmm. This was a tough call. If I went outside to see what was going on with Valentina and the Fucktard Sister I knew for sure she was going to come right at me. If I stayed inside and out of her way, I was hanging Valentina out to dry.

“Were they just talking, like…normal talking? Or was it more like yelling and scary talking?” I asked.

“Well, at one point Valentina looked like she was going to start crying, but then the chick with the giant hair gave her a hug.”

Oh, for the luva…… here is another thing you need to know about Valentina. She gives everyone the benefit of the doubt in every single situation. I could go to her house and burn down her garage one day and she would tell me that while she wishes I wouldn’t have sprayed gasoline all over her stuff and set it on fire, she's sure I must have had a good reason so she forgives me. Valentina is really one of the last pure good souls. God only knows what the Fucktard Sister was saying to her, but whatever it was it led Valentina to believe that everything was going to be a-okay. Yeah, not so much.

Once Keely and I realized the Fucktard Sister was not going to mess with Valentina, we made our way back through the bar and joined a table of people sitting near the back on the far left side of the stage. I had filled the Hubby in on the developing Fucktard Sister state of affairs while the band was on their last break, but I played down the situation a little. I didn’t want to worry him since there was little he would be able to do while trapped behind a drum kit all night anyway. Also, at the last break I hadn’t seen them in a while so the Fucktard Sister alert was only at DEFCON 4. After the Valentina/Fucktard Sister deck exchange the situation had taken a leap to DECFON 2 and I had a sinking feeling it was quickly approaching 1.

I took my seat at the table with my back to the wall so I could have a birds eye view of any approaching drunk and fugly lunatics. It only took one sip of my drink to catch a glimpse of her over the rim of the glass. The youngest Fucktard sister (not the one talking to Valentina on the deck, the other one), was shooting me a drunk chick version of the Zoolander Blue Steel stare.

I tried to act casual, and I even put my head under the table when I started laughing. I know laughing at her was just poking the bear, but I really couldn’t help it. Picture this –



with giant teased hair and heavy black eyeliner wearing a tank top three sizes too small with a huge stain of spilled beer down the front.

Keely joined me under the table long enough to inquire what the hell I was doing under there.

“Ummm…well, I’m avoiding making eye contact with Headbanger Charo over there – 3 o’clock.”

“Where?” Keely asked, as her head snapped up and whipped around to the general direction of the Fucktard Sister. “Oh, HA!” “Bwaaahahahahahaha, that is FUNNY”.

That was it – I just couldn’t help it anymore. Keely’s reaction, the cocktails and the absolute absurdity of the situation made me totally lose it and I started laughing hysterically. As it turns out, that was the green light the Fucktard Sister was waiting for.

FoN and Superkeely vs. the Fucktard Sisters - Part II

Continuing on with the Fucktard Family tales from yesterday.......(if you're not sure what I'm talking about, go here)

Right around the same period of time Valentina was going through her divorce my Hubby was a drummer in a moderately successful local rock band. They played bars around town and throughout the province every weekend. Since the band played so often, I developed friendships with the other ‘band wives’ and attending the shows was our main social activity.

Valentina started rediscovering her friendships and social life once she was free from Fucktard and able to leave her house unescorted, so she started coming out to gigs with us. Since she was hanging out with us and the band a lot more, Valentina (like all good newly separated women before her) started digging the musician scene and became quite enamored with the lead singer. While she hadn’t technically divorced Fucktard yet, they were separated and heading for divorce so she started pursuing Lead Singer with a vengeance. I did everything possible to advance that relationship because Lead Singer was a pretty decent guy, and the closer Valentina got to him the further away she ran from Fucktard. And, it made Fucktard very angry when he got wind of Valentina’s new object of affection, which was just straight up gravy to me.

One weekend the guys had a gig at a popular local bar and we had all decided to go and see the band play. And when I say all, I mean ALL. I invited everyone to that show – my family, friends, coworkers, the cashier at the grocery store, the guy that pumps my gas….you name it and I had probably invited it to see the show that night. The band wives piled over to my place for some pre-game activity and shortly after 10:00 pm we headed out to the show. We took longer at my house than we intended to, so by the time we finally got to the bar Valentina was already there and the guys were on stage in the middle of their first set. I had barely checked my coat when Valentina ran over to me with her ass on fire and yanked me around the corner. She was speaking in a tense, high-pitched tone that could only indicate clearly something was up with something.

“The Fucktard Sisters are here! They are IN. THE. BAR!”

“So?” I said. “It’s a big bar; we can steer clear of them. Besides, their hair is four feet high. I’ll keep an eye out and we’ll relocate if it starts bobbing this direction.”

“No, you don’t understand,” stressed Valentina. “Fucktard has told them you are responsible for destroying his family. They are not mad at ME, they’re mad at YOU.”

At this point in the evening I actually wasn’t all that worried. While I am definitely not one who courts drama, Valentina sure is. I love her to pieces, but she routinely gets herself involved with people and situations straight out of All My Children. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if it turns out she has the mailman’s love child locked in her attic. Considering this fact, I kind of pooh-poohed her.

“C’mon, it will be fine,” I said. “What are they going to do? Beat me up?” (That would be foreshadowing right there people. My high school English teacher would be so proud)

I gave Valentina the guy punch on the shoulder and made my way to the bar to get a cocktail. While I wasn’t exactly panicked, I did have the peripheral vision working double time scanning the crowd for that ridiculous hair. I had a simple strategy – make no eye contact whatsoever, and pretend that I had no idea they were even in the bar.

I started walking through the crowd hoping to find a table of people I knew or the other band wives quickly. I spotted Keely sitting at a large oblong table with a group of mutual friends and swiftly pulled up a chair. Keely immediately leaned over, “Did you see Valentina yet?”

“Of course. I barely had my coat off and she was all over me”

“Are they going to start anything you think?” asked Keely.

“I doubt it. I invited a lot of people here tonight. I know they’re stupid, but they’re not that stupid.”

Now, I’m going to interject here to explain that up until this point I have led a very violence-free life. I grew up in a nice community surrounded by reasonable and peaceful people who would never think to punch anyone. If you’ve been reading the blog for any amount of time I’m sure you have figured out by now that I’m actually kind of a hippy. I don’t fight. The idea of fighting anyone was so far out of my frame of reference that I really didn’t believe it actually ever happened in real life. Sure, on that ‘bad boys bad boys’ COPS show maybe, but I sort of assumed that was just an American thing (uh, no offense).

The night went on initially without incident. The band was kicking ass, a whole ton of people I knew showed up, we were dancing up a storm, I had a few more cocktails…..I had all but forgotten the Fucktard sisters were even there. That is until Valentina suddenly disappeared and we couldn’t find her anywhere.

Superkeely vs. the Fucktard Sisters - Part I

Valentina got married really young to a complete asshole. This guy was the poster boy for abusive douche bags. He would assign her a curfew whenever she went anywhere without him, controlled who she was allowed to talk to and hangout with, manipulated her family against her, blah, blah, blah. Unfortunately, I’m sure most of you know the type I’m talking about. Needless to say, he hated my guts.

Not surprisingly the marriage didn’t last long and she cut him lose shortly after their first wedding anniversary. This pleased me to no end, especially since by that point I wasn’t allowed in her house anymore. This guy – let’s call him Fucktard – was devastated when Valentina left him. Fucktard was a Captain America type who thought he was the greatest thing to ever walk the earth and was incensed that his wife would have the gall to leave him. He set about trying to get her back, and when that didn’t work he decided he was going to ruin her and everyone around her. Since he gave Valentina no credit for having her own brain, he decided it was my fault his marriage ended. His controlling, obsessive and abusive behaviour had nothing to do with it, of course. He convinced himself, his family, Valentina’s family and anyone else that would listen that I corrupted Valentina and brainwashed her into leaving him. Trust me, if that was possible I would have done it before she married him.

The whole brouhaha surrounding the period of time Valentina was trying to free herself from Fucktard is a long story, but let me just say it went on for months. Fucktard would routinely call me at all hours trying to track her down, park outside my house waiting for me to come home so we could ‘talk’ (in a vain and brief attempt to get me on side, since I was the one controlling her, remember), and he even tried to convince her family (and was briefly successful) that I was a drug dealer who had hooked her on drugs. Yeah, I know. It was all very Days of our Lives. I am not one of those individuals who courts drama, so the whole thing was a major pain in my ass.

Fucktard comes from a redneck family who is…….let’s just say quite lacking in basic social graces. They are the type of people who say ‘I seen it’ and put an ‘s’ on the word ‘all’. They have giant hair and are almost always covered in bruises, cuts and have missing teeth (the men and the women). I don’t recall ever going to any of their trailers, but a hundred bucks says there would be a rusted out 1980’s model camero parked on the lawn. Oh, yes. A very charming bunch indeed. How does all of this tie into the Keely bar fight incident you ask? Well, Fucktard has two sisters.

These girls were pretty much violent, hairier versions of Fucktard. I did feel a little bad for them (the younger one showed up to Valentina and Fucktard’s wedding beaten to a pulp, and the oldest one was a grandmother by age 34), but they didn’t exactly go out of their way to act like civilized adults. True, they may not have known how to act like civilized adults, but I don’t know……something like learning to read might have helped their lot in life a little. Their heads are gigantic; surely they could have used them for something other than backcombing hair.

Anyhoo, Fuckard had no problem convincing these two brain waves that it was all me – I was the sole reason Valentina left him, and I needed to be dealt with accordingly.

You can take down all those 'Wanted' posters now

I’m sure there are at least five or six of you that have noticed I’ve been a little MIA of late. Sorry about that. I was going to throw up a ‘Gone Fishing’ sign and a quick note of explanation, but….well, I just didn’t.

I am having a crisis of blog. I’m not really blocked per se, but I am feeling a little creatively stifled. Long story short – I was outted. My new workplace found my blog (stupid google) and all of a sudden I am surrounded by people who know the real me and FoN. Aside from a handful of close friends, up until recently people either new me, or FoN. Not both. It’s fascinating (inside work joke – hi guys).

I have since poured through the internet to make sure no one else can tie the real me to FoN, but that’s a little like getting out of the pool when it starts raining. I really like FoN – she gets to say stuff (she would have said ‘shit’ right there) that I can’t say. I have to be appropriate pretty much everywhere. I am a professional, a mom, a wife, a volunteer, etc. I wouldn’t really show up at the PTA meeting with an umbrella cocktail and tell the uppity suburbanites to bite me. FoN would though, and I loved the indulgence the ‘anonymous’ blog gave me.

When I first discovered I was outted I totally freaked out. I started reading through past posts and was more and more horrified as I went. I said I liked Jesus because he rocks out with his cock out. I was pissed off when I got demoted at the last job and talked about how I gave the finger to everyone at work as they walk by. I suggested the best way to relax is to have a bath and smoke a fatty. Yeah....not that cool in the workplace.

I thought about starting all over with a new alias, but that’s too much work and I’m super busy (read: lazy). I have seriously considered quitting blogging all together, but I would miss FoN and the creative outlet blogging gives me. So…..I have decided to press on. They haven’t fired me yet, so that’s a good sign, right? I might say ‘fuck’ a little less (oops) and blogging about work clearly isn’t going to happen anymore (which is too bad because there is some seriously funny shit going on around that place), but FoN will live on. I still have to tell you the Keely/bar fight story, after all.

Fat Chick vs. Food - Week Twenty One

Huh? What’s that? All of you just never mind.

This past (ahem) week was a little hit and miss. We have so much to catch up on people! I spend a lot of my time summarizing conversations into pretty spreadsheets, reports and presentations, so I’m going to rock this bad boy bullet point style -

- The Hubby graduated university and then went and got him self a grown-up job. He will be teaching a grade 2/3 split class starting in the fall, and I’m going to giggle every time I hear someone call him ‘Mr. FoN’.

- What does that have to do with Fat Chick, you ask? Well……she celebrated. A little. Okay, a lot. For about two weeks straight.

- Interesting fact – I didn’t gain any weight whatsoever.

- Another interesting fact – the week prior to my two week impression of Anna Nicole before she became all coked-out and hooked on Trimspa and then died? I was religious with my eating and exercising. I didn’t lose an ounce that week.

Ummmm, excuse me, but I thought this whole thing was supposed to be scientific? Isn’t the magic formula burn more calories than you eat and then you lose weight? That’s what Oprah told me. That’s what Trainer Lady told me. That’s what Google has said over and over again. What the fuck with the plateau? Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful I’m not gaining weight because I SO should have, but why does all of that not seem to matter anymore? This would all be fine and good if I was struggling with the last five or ten, but I still have more than 30 pounds to drop.

I have agreed to run in a marathon relay team this September, which is pretty hilarious because I don’t run. Ever. This one time a crazy drunk chick in a bar thought I had wronged her in some way and gave me the ‘Wanna go?’ line, and I started laughing so hard she got super pissed off and came after me with her giant teased hair and Old Stock beer bottle a blazin’. As far as I can remember, that was the last time I ran anywhere, and that was about twelve years ago. Interesting side note to that story – I ran as close as I could get to the bouncer and Keely because I had a little confidence in the bouncer, but I knew for sure Super Keely would TOTALLY kick her ass. I think that is a blog for another time though…….

As I was saying, I am going to run in this relay marathon. It’s just a tad abstract because our ‘team’ has been planning this for a few weeks now, but the only action we’ve seen is in written form on a Facebook events page. I don’t hold out too much hope it will happen, but the threat of it is so far enough to keep me somewhat motivated.

My major motivation lately? SUMMER.

Waterskiing season is upon us. I am going to try and haul my fat ass out of the water this year people. Picturing me cutting through those waves is my workout fantasy, and I’m getting a little scared. I have about two weeks left to train before I try to get up on those goddamn skis, and I’m having some doubts. I’ll keep you posted.

Speaking of posted – yeah, okay……so I took a little time off. More on that tomorrow. Or maybe Wednesday. This week for SURE.