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Published December 01, 2009

First, a little info on the family.  I'm the black sheep.  Big shocker, huh?  I've got a GREAT family that I love to pieces!  Mom, Dad & sister can be compared to the "Cleavers".  Then there's me.  The "other" daughter.  I'm a boozing, whoring pothead with no moral compass.  Sadly, I was born with absolutely no shame and it's led to a life of debauchery.  Wait.  That's not sad.  I usually have a fucking blast! hee!hee!  Of course, like any good daughter, I try to hide the "really bad" stuff from Mom & Dad.  I mean, they've seen the coffee table photo album filled with pictures of my tits, (I've got them in 6 countries now, by the way ;o>) but they've never heard about the drug and booze fueled sexcapades in the hotels of, well, 6 countries!  Now, back to Thanksgiving.  I hate the holidays!  Too much pressure.  Too many expectations.  Not enough opportunities to sneak off and get high!  But, good daughter that I am (ha!ha!), I always try to smile and blend in and "play the expected part".   Until this year.

So, I was at the kitchen sink washing some dishes and having "holidays as usual" when my "patience for pretending" went right down the drain.  Whoa!  What?!?  Everything was fine then... BAM!  I need to get out of here.  FAST!  I run upstairs, pack up my things and go to say my good-byes.  Luckily Dad was off at church or something, but Mom and sister want to know why I'm rushing off.  I try the old "I just want to get ahead of the traffic" line, but they're not buying it.  Enter the rapid fire, brain-frying questions of doom.

What's wrong?
Are you mad?
What did we do?
Are you crying?
Why do you want to leave NOW?
What's wrong with you?
Are you really going to leave this early?
What's wrong?

AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Right about the time when I'm sure my head will explode I hear myself yell "STOP IT! Leave me alone!  I just want to go home, alright?!?"  CRAP.  Now I've got Mom looking at me like I slapped her in the face and told her I didn't love her.  And my sister looking at me like she wants to do exactly that!  I try to recover with a "Sorry.  That didn't come out right.  I'm just tired.  I've got the holiday blues.  Umm...It's not you.  It's me." yada. yada.  Too late!  They want to get to the bottom of these feelings.  They love me.  They don't want me to be sad.  Especially during the holidays when everything should be happy and gay!  SHIT.  "Trust me" I say. " We don't need to get to the bottom of anything.  Jilly is fine."  (Jilly just needs to get the hell out of Dodge!)  But, alas, the can has been opened and Mom wants to fish with every worm.  "C'mon honey, talk to me.  Tell me what's wrong."  "Mom, please believe me when I tell you that you DO NOT want to hear what I have to say right now."  "Don't be silly!  Of course I do!"  " No.  You don't."  "PLEASE!"  "Look, I'm just tired of being "holiday Jill" and I want to go home where I can be myself."  OH DEAR GOD!  SHUT UP JILL!  STOP TALKING AND WALK AWAY!  RUN!!!  "What on earth are you talking about, honey?  You can be yourself here. We're family!"  "Trust me, Mom.  You don't want that."  "Yes I do.  This is crazy.  I love you no matter what and I always want  you to be yourself!"  And that's when it happened...................I looked my almost 70 year old mother in the eye and said "Mom, if I was being myself right now I'd be half naked, with a doobie hanging out of my mouth, talking about shit, fuck and pussy!" 

OH        MY     GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Did I just say shit, fuck and pussy?!?  To my mother?!?!?!?!?  Where the hell did that come from?  What the fuck do I do now?!?  God, I'm an ASSHOLE!!! (Although in my defense I did warn her repeatedly.HA!)  Then, just when I was praying for the earth to open up and swallow me whole, my sweet, church-going, June Cleaver-like mother picks her chin up off the ground, pops her eyes back in her head and says "Oh dear!  You're right.  I don't want that.  Thank you for all of your "acting". Okay, honey, you can go."

So I went.

Well, I went home, got shit-faced drunk and smoked till I was cross eyed.  I laughed about it and I cried about it.  I'm not the kind of person that dwells on things so I've moved on, but I've still got this one nagging question.............

Do you think I'll get a "hall pass" for Christmas?

:o} Jilly

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