Who says it's the Motheri-n-law that drives the daughters crazy?

I'd like to start out by saying that I genuinley love, and like, my mother-in-law. She is sweet, unbelievably considerate, gentle, even funny at times (although I don't think she realizes it). She has her drawbacks: She's a bit of a chicken little, she complains about...well...most things (today it was how at Chili's there are too many choices on the menu and their Coke is too carbonated. WTF?), and she's a little too Christian for my taste. Christian being she believes in demons and stuff. No thanks. What I love about her though, is that when she and I hang out she usually turns off the negativitey and has never once pressed her beleifs upon me. She's also going to be a FANTASTIC grandmother. I saw her once with my friend Mandi's then newborn daughter and she was just wonderful. There are no other words. It was like this crazy gently loving mother nature energy just spilled out of her. I can't wait to see how she'll be with mine and Dean's children.

Then there's my father-in-law.

I don't even know where to start. Growing up, he was in and out of Dean's life. He's had problems with alcohol. He can't really hold down a job. He's obsessive. Dean told me growing up he became obsessed with classical music. He currently is obsessed with LOL cats. When I met him, five years ago, he was obsessed with the church. This wasn't just any church.This was a church that believed women should only wear skirts and make babies. This church believed that the man, and the man only, should provide for his family. This church believed that there were demons among us. I would venture to say that this church believed in the rapture, or Judgement day, or whatever you want to call it. this church was so bad that my MIL, a God-fearing woman herself, completely disassociated herself from it. I don't blame her, considering that she is the one that supports him, yet the church told her that she shouldn't be working at all.

I could write a book on the craziness of my FIL, but frankly, I don't have the time or the energy.

For a long time, I tried convincing Dean that he should make amends with his father. I believe that blood is thicker than water and that there are few rifts between family that can't be healed. I've certiantly had my trials and tribulations with my family, namely my father (well stepfather, but he;s my father in my eyes). We've come to a peace though, and I've grown to accept his shortcomings (to a point) and build a relationship with him. I figured hell, if I could do it, why couldn't Dean do it?

At lunch today, it all became painfully clear.

Dean graduated college on Monday, and is now the first in his family to hold a Bachelors degree. This is a HUGE deal, and I am bursting with pride beyond words. His parents wanted to take us out for a celebratory lunch. Normally when we make the visit to his folks, we drive up north to their house and go to Heaven Dragon, our all-time favorite restaurant in the history of the world. This time, being as it was Dean's special day, they drive down here to see us.

Well, the day started with a mad cleaning spree. Last night Dean and I broke in his new PlayStation3, a gift from me and my parents for his graduation. Along with the celebration came copious amounts of Absolute ruby red and no-sugar added grapefruit juice (for me), Keystone Ice (for him) and about a pack and a half of Marlboro ultra-lights (for us both). When we woke up, we had to clean up the massive amounts of beer cans and cigarette butts (since his parents don't know he smokes, even though he has, on and off since he was 16), or drinks. We also had about 18 pounds of cat shit and piss to clean up, dishes to wash, carpets to vacuum, beds to make...you get the picture. It was a delightfully hung over Saturday morning of cleaning. When his folks arrived, I was in the bathroom trying to make myself look like a member of the human race.

On my laptop, which I leave in the living room, is a sticker that states "Non-judgement day is near." My mom bought if for me, I liked the play on words and general message, so on the laptop it went. Apparently, when I was in the bathroom, my FIL made a point of pointing out my sticker to my MIL, who really could have cared less. Whatever.

We get in the car to go to lunch. Our original plans entailed going to Red Robin, which Dean thought was close by. As it turns out, Red Robin was actually a casino called Red & Jerry's. No one really cared, we just figured we'd go to a different burger joint. No one, that is, except for FIL. He got super-irritated, whipped the car around, yelled at other drivers for reasons unknown, and generally acted like a big baby about the whole thing.

We settled on going to Chili's. When we got there, there was a five minute wait for a table. FIL had plenty to say about this. He bitched at the host about why we couldn't sit at some table that was cleared. I spent a good part of my early twenties waitressing, so I tried explaining to FIL that the empty table was probably part of a section from a waitstaff who's shift had been cut, but he didn't want to hear it.

We ended up getting seated after about a three minute wait. Both Dean and his dad ordered cheeseburgers well done. As science will tell you, a well-done piece of meat is going to take a longer time to cook than my chicken salad or say, a medium burger. Dean's dad spent the majority of our time at the table complaining about where his food was, bitching when other patrons got food before him (one of which was a family that ordered an appetizer of chips and salsa). I told him that well-done burgers were going to take longer to cook that most food, to which he replied "Oh yeah, right,so it's my fault".

I got so irritated that I went to the bathroom and sat in a stall for ten minutes. I didn't care if they thought I was constipated.

The most infuriating part of the whole ordeal was that he kept blaming the waitress for his food not arriving in a timely manner. Like she was back there, plotting against him, laughing about his foolishness at ordering a well-done burger. To further illustrate his nature, when the waitress came around to refill our drinks, he never said a word to her about where his burger was. He had no problem bitching a blue streak to his family about the shitty service but was too much of a pussy to ask the waitstaff were his food was.

What a miserable experience. When I graduate college, we're going a to a movie. There if he complains, he'll get kicked out.