Most of Bean’s friends and family are awesome, and I love them and was totally ok with going on the rounds to see everyone. Except that Bean wanted to visit Cousin Firefighter.
Now, I like Cousin Firefighter, but Mrs. Firefighter is another story entirely.
When she talks, she sounds like a bitchy five year old.
And I’m not really sure how she uses her left hand, since her rock is so big she shouldn’t be able to lift it – but she does, and also manages to flash it to great effect.
They live in a 9 bedroom house that’s about 3 times the size of my house (and my house is pretty big) and loves nothing more than to show it off with a moderately pitying expression because obviously you couldn’t afford such a wonderful home.
Two hours. That’s how long we spent there. Two fucking hours of listening to how perfect her kids are and how lovely the new house is and how hard it is for her to get motivated to do anything and on and on and on.
I wanted to either hit her or shoot myself. By the end of the evening I had no preference.