Saturday, September 5, 2009

Week From Hell Pt. 1

My niece, Princess, is getting married next Wednesday, in Adelaide. There’s already three things wrong with that sentence... one, my niece gets married before I do, two, on a Wednesday, three, in fucken Adelaide.

Oh, but it gets much worse.

Her mother, my older sister Bindy, divorced her husband Mr. Air Force about three years ago. He left the air force eight years ago and took up a lucrative job with an international airline which involved living about a third of the year in an Asian city, and, as my sister discovered five years later, he had a girlfriend over there – like, a whole other life, virtually married. They had a cat and all. When she discovered this, she of course booted him out. He ended up flying this woman out to Australia and marrying her once the divorce came through, and my niece’s wedding this week will be the first time our family have to confront him and his new wife. They will be on a table over the other side of the room.

But it gets worse.

My sister Bindy has three children to Mr. Air Force. There’s Tomboy (21) who is ace. There’s Princess (25) getting married, and there’s The Butcher (27), the eldest child. When my sister booted her husband out, The Butcher went off the rails. He just didn’t cope, and, for reasons none of us understood, he sided with his father and blamed my sister for the whole affair – and developed a speed habit. It also coincided with him getting together with a young woman called The Typist who has all sorts of mental illnesses and won’t socialise. He refuses to speak to any of us. We have tried and tried to reach out to him but he won’t return calls, emails or anything. He only speaks to his father, and sometimes, Princess, but only briefly. Anyway, as it happens, he not only married The Typist, they have had a kid. My nephew has a child and I don’t know its name. Him, his wife and the child will all be at the wedding, also at a table far away from us. He has told Princess that I am not to go near him or he will ‘belt’ me... and why? Because I sent him an email about a year ago, and told him to ‘fucken get over it’ (whatever it was).

It gets worse.

I was going to take a date. There’s a local girl I haven’t mentioned here yet, but, anyway, we’re, you know, hanging out, a bit. Miss Darwin is her name. She was excited about driving to Adelaide with me for a couple of nights in a luxury hotel, and having a chance to wear her best dress, but, I now can’t take her. Why? Because my Dad broke his ankle - his accelerator leg - and can’t drive. Mum won’t get on a plane (she did once, and had to be restrained. She asked to be let out, mid-air; she insisted on being let out) and so I have to drive Mum and Dad to Adelaide. I couldn’t put Miss Darwin through it. First time meeting my parents, and she’s stuck in a car with them for 20 hours? Oh no, oh no. So, I’m now dateless at this wedding.

It gets worse.

Princess is marrying a nice young man who she has been dating since they were both fifteen. Childhood sweethearts, never been with anyone else. Yeah, like that works in the long run. Oh, and he’s from a rich Jewish family and our cash donations are going to look miserly, no matter how much we have scrimped and saved. He’s a nice guy though – he’s a pilot. I get along better with him than I do my own niece – she’s a psychologist, a control freak and conservative as all Hell. And she votes Liberal. I love her, she’s my niece, and we get along pretty well, but I have to admit, I prefer hanging out with her when her bloke is with her. She and I just don’t have much to say to each other about the world.

It gets worse.

Princess has talked of nothing but this fucking wedding for almost two years now. Bridezilla is an under-statement. Every second of the two day ‘wedding festival’ has been so meticulously planned that none of us are allowed to breathe unless it is sanctioned by Princess. She even checked what colour my tie would be (because it had to match the menu design or something) and I just know I’m going to be in big trouble when she sees I am not in a blue and white tie. This is not a wedding, it’s bootcamp.

It gets worse.

I have a lot of work on and this four day round-trip will force me to play catch up for quite some time, and it’s on a fucking Wednesday (because they wanted to get married on 09-09-09) and for fuck’s sake, it’s in ADELAIDE.

The food better be good.

See you all in a week, when I will post Part 2 - the report.


Evil Overlord said...

awesome - just awesome
you are a brave man

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

Cripes Pers!

Is there anyway of getting out of this?

Melba said...



Kettle said...

Lordy that sounds awful, Perseus. Good luck. I went to a wedding once that was only marginally as bad family-wise as yours sounds like it's going to be but it was on a boat. A freakin' boat. Who puts people who don't like each together on a boat for four hours? I hope yours isn't on a boat.

And Melba, I like your caps. It sounds like you're way down the back of the yard. HELLO DOWN THERE!

patchouligirl said...

Its heartwarming to hear of a family as dysfunctional as my own. There has to be a silver lining to all this. Maybe you'll meet the woman of your dreams at this wedding (and be glad you didn't take a date). Fingers crossed!

Anonymous said...

Princess is marrying a nice young man ... Oh, and he’s from a rich Jewish family and our cash donations are going to look miserly...

Don't give cash, give an actual present, like a pig.

And she votes Liberal.

Name the pig Bronwyn Bishop. Or Piers Akerman.

I couldn’t put Miss Darwin through it. First time meeting my parents, and she’s stuck in a car with them for 20 hours? Oh no, oh no. So, I’m now dateless at this wedding.

Umm, duhhh. Pay for return flights for her to meet you in Adelaide.

PG: Maybe you'll meet the woman of your dreams at this wedding (and be glad you didn't take a date).

Are Perseus's cousins attending?

Pepsi said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
squib said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
squib said...

What tie are you wearing then? I must admit I got a little annoyed when I saw the Pollock tie my dad was planning to wear to my wedding. He ended up changing it to a navy and white tie and he looked very dapper

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

I wore a maroon tie with black three-piece suit and watch chain to my wedding.

Flash as a shithouse rat with a gold tooth.

Perseus said...

Boogey - she's not my girlfriend, nor will she be, so flying her in and out is just, you know, too much. The original plan was that she was going to drive with me, and she was going to catch up with friends of hers, and then come with me to the wedding. The wedding 'date' was a secondary thing. And anyway, we got really drunk last night, and things just didn't click. Thank god she's not coming. She's nice, but not a romantic prospect.

Kettle - it's not on a boat thank god. If it was, I'd stab myself in the spleen to get out of it. It is on a mountain though, in the middle of nowhere, so it's not like I can sneak out and go to a bar or anything.

Patchy - I asked my niece if there were any single women coming to the wedding and she said, "Yes, one, my bridesmaid... she's obese though".

Squib - I'm taking two ties and will decide on the day. One is grey/silverish, the other a deep crimson. Black suit.

Ramon - please post a photo of this outfit.

Melba said...

Sorry for shouting, I think I was imagining you driving off into the distance.

And Boogeyman, a pig? I don't get it. He's Jewish not Samoan.

eat my shorts said...

Oh, but it gets much worse.

Fucken ay, Perseus. Good luck and god speed.

Lewd Bob said...

But it'll make a great story.

wari lasi said...

Fair dinkum. I can't wait for the follow up to this.

And I thought my family was bizarre.

Good luck. Stay at Glenelg. The rest of Adelaide is as boring as batshit. But at least you won't get lost, all the roads are straight.

Dr. Golf said...

Would have thought Princess would have learnt the dangers of marrying pilots.
Or maybe she's sub-consciously trying to right some of her father’s wrongs, or maybe it’s a chick Oedipus thing. Any amateur psychologists want to have a crack at this one.