Party Like It's 1999

So my brother's birthday party was today. His 40th birthday was several days ago, but there was this big family and friends event at his home. Our mother, known to you as the SheNurse of the SS, was there with her boyfriend Slow, and my sister-in-law's dad, Wild Bill, and her Evil Stepmom and her Evil Sister were there, and a bunch of my brother's friends, and a bunch of people connected to my brother and his wife through their children, the Crown Princes.

Another person was there because of her connection to the Crown Princes. My ex-wife, you see, remains Auntie Gamara to the Crown Princes. I view this primarily as her method for maintaining some input into my life, although others assure me that this view is completely narcissistic. Whatever. It's not like I have anything to do with her family, her sister and her sodden husband Bubba or their child, Little Bubba.

So Auntie Gamara was there, with my mother and my sister-in-law, forming the Holy Trinity of Control Freaks. Also there? Auntie Gamara's boyfriend, a guy we'll call Sub. And, of course, Ilse.

I took the initiative, of course, marching right up and hugging Gamara and manfully and enthusiastically shaking Sub's hand, engaging him immediately in a conversation on some stuff we have in common that doesn't involve Gamara (we used to work for the same large corporation, known to you as the DeathStar). Gamara was at a bit of a loss, here. I think she expected Cranky Landru. Instead she got Salesboy Landru.

Ilse showed up after a bit, having been detailed by Slow and Wild Bill and the Evil Stepmother or something, and perfunctory introductions were had. I thought I had Gamara on the ropes at this point, because Ilse is, not to put too fine a point on it, way hotter than Gamara (Gamara is not without hotness, for some people--I got past that a while ago because of some unfortunate disliking-each-other-intensely problems--but her looks are more glamourpuss than Ilse's basic, earthy, straight-out fundamental, scorching, surrender-now hotness, and attained at a greater cost in time and chemistry). I was feeling even better about this when Gamara pointed at the buffet line and said, "Oh, look, food." Oh yeah. Tactical retreat. Round One to Landru.

So we get food, and Sub is off talking geekspeak with some guy there that he knows, and Ilse and I head out to the deck to eat, and things move around a bit as they do at parties. Old friends and neighbors wafted in, and I greeted them and chatted them up, and all of a sudden I'm on the fringe of the kitchen, and from the corner of my eye I spot it. My Worst Nightmare. The Knockout Round. Yes, Ilse and Gamara and the SheNurse of the SS are clustered in a small group on the other side of the kitchen. Talking fairly animatedly, although not in a conflict sorta way.

Auggghhhhh!!!! I mean, let's be real. What could they be talking about, those three? I mean, is there any other mathematical possibility for a topic among those three humans? This can't be self-absorption! They're talking about me! And My Mother and Gamara have Ilse outnumbered! Gods, I can feel myself being chopped like salad bits from across the room!

I'll be honest. I cut and ran. Out the front door, out to the Grand Parakeet (my vehicle), into the little armrest compartment for a cigarette. I smoked it happily, then popped in some Trident so it wouldn't be so obvious that I had been sneaking off to smoke. I marched back into the kitchen, where the dissection was under way. They were talking about Europe or something, clearly code for "Landru is a major pig, how can we make him change?"

So I edged into the conversation. After about thirty seconds, Gamara started mocking the way I was chewing my gum.

This is an old saw. It's not like I chew gum with my mouth open. Or maybe it is. Who the fuck cares? We've been separated for nearly three years, I mean who the fuck cares?

I win.