Begin rant.

Yesterday, we were invited to my sister's future in-laws for dinner and to meet his extended family. Now, most of the things involving the wedding do nothing more than irritate the shit out of me, namely dealing with my sister. (I'll explain the 'trial run' on her hair later.) Anyway, we had to drive up to Woodland, which is about an hour and a half from here. Since my grandparents aren't the cracker jack drivers they used to be, my mother said we'd drive them. BUT, we had to borrow my uncle's GIGANTOR SUV because I refused to be crammed between my grandparents in the back of my mother's car. We've done that trail of tears before and I wasn't having it again.

My father has this penchant for being obscenely early for everything.. like 20 minutes to a half hour early. It's annoying as hell for someone like me who likes to arrive exactly on time. We agreed to meet at my uncle's house at noon yesterday, as the party started at 2pm. Yes, an hour and a half drive must take at least 2 hours, right? Riiiiiiiiiight. I balked at leaving for my uncle's 30 minutes earlier than necessary, using the World Cup as my excuse. (Hello?! Finals? Football?! On TV. Must. WATCH.) We left at 11:50, arriving at my uncle's at 12:05pm. Little did I know this was late enough to cause my grandmother to have a tizzy and proclaim to my uncle that they were going to be so, so, so late and they should leave without us. Right.. because we needed to be there early. (No, this is not my father's parents. These are my mother's parents and some days I wonder how the hell my mother survived.)

So we pile in the car, me wedged in the rear seat where it was a balmy 98 degrees. Thank GOD for my ipod and the ability to tune out my grandmother's voice. We arrive at 1:45 because YES, it does only take 90 minutes to drive there and NO, we did not get lost, thank you Mapquest and my ability to read directions and a map.

Dinner was.. odd. My future BIL's parents are lovely. His sister is a cold fish who left the engagement party to go shopping. Uh, nice. His grandmother rambled on and on and on about herself and didn't even try to make conversation with my mother or grandmother. It was just a strange day.

On the way home, I was so incredibly irritable. My grandmother volunteered to sit in the cramped backseat so I wasn't in the sun the whole way home. For that, I was thankful. But she went on and on and on about how much future BIL's aunt and grandmother ate. Like it's anyone's business how much food someone eats at a party. Like it's even polite to say it. I wanted to scream that she should mind her own fucking business and not be so worried about what everyone is or isn't eating. I've never met someone so concerned with other people's food issues or their personal business. I didn't really pay much attention to it when I was younger but as an adult, her snide remarks grate on my last nerve. I know all of her 'concerns' about my mother's weight is just a front for the fact that she's embarrassed to have a fat daughter and granddaughter. What more heinous thing could there be??

We got back to my uncle's and I grabbed my cousin and went up stairs before I blew my lid. She told me all about the "We're going to be late!!!" bullshit and I told her it took all my energy to bite my tounge in the car. I seriously can't handle all this family togetherness anymore. I feel completely imposed upon all the time, like I have nothing else going on in my life except doing favours for other people. I'm still housesitting and I come over to my mom's to find notes saying "Empty the dishwasher before I get home!" Uh, I haven't eaten here in several days and yet I'm still expected to empty the dishwasher.

I keep reminding myself that I came back to the US because I missed my family. Yeah, won't make that mistake again. I can't stand all of this. I feel completely smothered, like the life is being sucked out of me and I can't get back to my normal life, the life I had in London. Don't get me wrong. I love my family but there are days I just want to scream.

Oh, about the hair 'trial run'. We go to the hair salon where the girl who does my hair works. My sister shows her all these pictures of what she likes, etc. During the course of all the curling, hair spraying and pinning, my stylist asks me how I want to wear my hair for the wedding. I said I didn't know, what do you think? My sister, in all her bitchy bridal glory said, "Well, you could start by brushing it." Yeah, she said that. In public. To me. (Cue hateful glare.) THEN, she tells me to take a picture of this man sitting across from her because his hairstyle would look good on Dad. I said no, that's cheeky to take a picture of someone you don't know without asking their permission. She said he wouldn't even know. Just take the picture. I said absolutely not; I'm not that rude. She sat there and had the audacity to pout. SERIOUSLY.

Then when we got home, I went to pull out her veil to put it back on and show my mom the 'final look.' The dog is my sister's favourite target of wrath, besides her fiance's 2 cats. She snapped at me that the dog had to go outside because he wasn't to come near her veil. He was just laying there, watching. I said he was fine and she roared he had to go outside. So I take the dog and shove him outside. She then tells me to go wash my hands (because touching the dog's collar means I'm infected with DOG COOTIES or something equally ridiculous.) I turned on her and said quit acting like a fucking diva. You've been a bitch all afternoon. My mother hates it when we cuss at each other and snapped for us to stop it because she was tired.

Trust me, a bridal veil can be used as a deadly weapon. I just about strangled her with it, after encouraging the dog to lick it, shed fur and piss all over it.

End rant.