(no subject)

Soooo that was fun last night. St. Patrick's Day consisted of a very nice meal, with some not so nice conversation about the approximate level of idiocy and douchebaggery my uncles currently possess, some (and for my part, too much) vodka & orange juice (that did not, in fact, get me hung over, but I did spend maybe a minute hugging porcelain this morning), and one of said uncles coming over last night after dinner to slander my dad's name and say he's being unreasonable about his portion of the will, which my brother took offense to and went right upstairs to tell him basically "fuck you, you lying SOB". SO.

I'm really just upset that Chester A) tried to pose the idea that my dad's the aggressor in any way/shape/form, and B) he tried to do it on St. Patrick's, when most people on the planet get drunk and make bad decisions--he was deliberately trying to catch grandma out and get on her good side so she'll put him first on the list for her house when she dies.

Sigh. All I know is both me and John have washed our hands of our uncles, we did some drinking to drown out our sorrows for a little while, and watched the Anaheim Ducks win a great game.

It's a terrible feeling, but sometimes it's hard not to be cynical. sorry Coco :(


EDIT: whoops almost forgot, Iero babies HURRAY. Teeny little balls of self destruction? Yes please.