Passive-aggressiveness: e-mail edition
So, the UEOEH sent me the nastiest e-mail yesterday. In response to my polite request to send a postcard from the cross so I could see the view, she went CRAZY.
She told me that I have no business calling myself a Christian when I haven’t mastered basic kindness. And that she knows I only went to church because I was hot for the pastor and for that married guy I liked to sit with.
And that she only went with me because we always went to lunch afterward. She would eat just a portion of it, and then have food for the rest of the week because I don’t feed her.
Wow. Venomous, much?
For the record, Lady L and I go to church every week. She said she can attest to the fact that I am not there to slobber all over the pastor. And for the record, the guy I sat with all the time? When I Googled him and found via Facebook that he’s married with spawn, I QUIT GOING to the 11 a.m. services.
OMG, what a cunt.
I’ll spare you the rest of the vitriol she spewed toward me, but let’s just say that SHE’S the saint for living with ME.
Same cunt stole my last roll of toilet paper. I have not a square to spare, and not a roll left under the sink because, as usual, she takes and takes and takes till there’s nothing left.
True to UEOEH form, though, she offered to cook Thanksgiving dinner before she leaves because she “wants to feel included, even though (she’s) not wanted.”
As she noted snidely, “Since you don’t cook.”
She also graciously said that she will gladly go wherever I put her. In other words, once again it is on me to solve the fucking problem. I hate her SO much. Because, of course, guess who has to arrange it and pay for it?
She said that I can go back to my so-called life that basically sucks but if I think I’m missing out on something, far be it from her to keep me from it. And that I can “parade (my) derelicts through” to my heart’s content.
Keep supporting my case, bitch.
So this morning she’s being nice and asking me all sorts of stupid questions. I can’t even look at her. Because this is EXACTLY what happens. We have a blowout; her memory gets erased; and things go back to “normal.”
I’m not like her in that respect. I’m good and mad. I want change. I just don’t know how to reply to all of that.
I mean, I’m helpless here. I know she looks to me to solve all her problems. And I guess I’m looking around, too, like, “Do you people hear this shit? Halp?”
And I guess that makes me as utterly useless as she is. Sigh.