Evil Mommies
it seems that all the mothers on both sides of my parent's families are eeeevil.
here is a picture of my grandmother (right) with her sister Gramzilla (left) and some brothers on a double date.
she looked a little better when cleaned up. you would never guess what evil lurked behind that pretty face.
she was 100% Polish. she married a hardworking, honest, Irishman who made a name for himself and carved a handsome living out of this harsh world starting with nothing. he owned an apartment building, bought a used house from a General in the Army, and and bought stocks in oil & gas companies. he gave her everything: fur coats, expensive Italian shoes, promised her she would never have to work another day in her life. and it was true. she never did have to work another day to the day she died.
for her part, she was cruel and manipulative. they had one daughter, who she would do such cruel things to that, as the little girl would later write in her diary, her dad would have killed her if he found out. it's true, from what I know of him he would have.
one day the little girl screamed ather mother that if she doesn't stop it, she would tell her father. she quit and that was the end of that.
later he would become an alcoholic and walk away from it all, never to be heard from again.
in the meantime their daughter grew up, got married and had a baby boy, me, who she would bring to her mother's house. I was grandma's little grandson and I thought she was wonderful. I had no idea what she was really like.
sometimes my mother would have to come over to cut her mother's hair; later, my dad would tell me that many times it was all he could do to stop her from stabbing the scissors in her back.
here is a picture of me and the grandparents.
when I was little I would have been completely oblivious to the evil things that were probably going through her mind.
but let's go back to the wedding. when they were married, she was 17 and he was 23. this picture sums them up quite well. he was always like "Hello! How are you?" she was like "let's go! we have a cake to cut"
she didn't waste time getting down to business with anything.
"oh! what a nice present! come closer, dear"
"...closer..."
no! don't go in there! it's a trap! aaahhhh
"too late! nyah hah haaahhh"
and that's when she had me.
my dad had an orange cat. she hated that cat. she trapped it in a box, drove across town and dumped it. it came back. later when it got too old she did something to it and we never saw it again. she would have a lifelong habit of throwing away things of yours she didn't like behind your back and denying everything.
my dad had a brand new '68 Torino GT. she would always race people in it (kept telling her not to) one time on April Fool's Day she called him up at work and told him she totalled it. he about had a heart attack. surprise! it was just a joke!
she did some modelling for my dad
then she did some amateur modelling
she looked different when she wasn't all dolled up...
in the meantime she had my sister.
now we were a complete family.
I was always more resistant to punishment by the parents than my sister was. that is, I stood up for myself. but the mom still whipped me with coat hangers because they hurt worse than a belt. my sister, on the other hand, got her hair cut off "mommy dearest" style, "unbreakable" plates broken over her head (they said unbreakable on the bottom anyways, they weren't) and my dad got his fingers broken when she threw the telephone at him (he had his hand on the wall where it hit) another time she threw the vacuum cleaner at him but he ducked around the corner. it was too big and slow. so she went back to telephones and ashtrays. or when me and my sister would fight too much so they would tie us together with a belt and push us outside in the snow until we quit, or that time I was in the 4th grade and dad was gone for 2 weeks so she kicked me out of the house for some unknown reason and I had to live in a tent in the back yard I made with a tarp and the swingset and get food from my friend's house until he got back, etc etc
ah yes, you might ask which came first, my mom or Satan.
well...
but let's talk about her nemesis, my dad's sister.
she was 4 years older than my dad. I hear she treated him like crap. she always was a brat.
maybe it had something to do with those creepy friends of hers.
here she is smoking a cigarette behind her dad's house.
she was a real tigress. she wore the pants in the house and the husband she married wasn't more an an accessory, as in vacuum cleaner attachment. they already had four children but now the score was 4-2 and she was getting jealous of my mom.
my dad and his sister didn't talk to each other. I was still a little kid and practically worshipped the ground she walked on because I didn't know any better. later on one of her daughters (the moose in the middle of the above picture) tried to get them together by having a picnic and talking things over. they refused to reconcile and we all went our seperate ways again.
when their father died, she kept the $60,000 in his bank account ($135,000 in 2019 dollars) and wouldn't give any to my dad. she said what are you going to do about it. and bought a new house. in the meantime her husband took all the tools out of his garage but left my dad to deal with the junk left in the house.
when she was older she fell and broke her hip. me and my dad were deciding whether we should go visit her in the hospital. we decided not to.
years later when my dad passed away, me and my sister both went to her house before the funeral. she was nice to me on the phone, but when we got there she played a trick.
she was nice to us at first. shortly she played like something I said pissed her off and she would ignore me and carry on a wonderful conversation with my sister; when we were leaving she insulted me. afterwards my sister said "why was she so nice to me? she was a total bitch on the phone when I talked to her!" well that's what she did, it was a setup. she was using my sister to "get my goat". she didn't really care about either of us from the beginning.
me and my sister were two peas in a pod.
when she was a little girl she had a stuffed crocodile she took with her everywhere she went. including when the folks took us to see Jaws. she cried when Jaws died. "waaaah! it was only hungry! waaaaahhh"
later she would get a job at a large insurance company calling people that owed money; then she got a job for a bank foreclosing loans, then she was a recruiter for an employemnt agency.
she was about to marry one guy that had a good career ahead of him making lots of money with computers. something like a week before the wedding she dumped him. said he was too boring. so she went and married a construction worker. he wasn't making any money but hey whatever makes her happy... and the problem was a lack of money made her not happy. they had two kids and she was always wanting me to come over and spend time with the little monsters
but I didn't.
one day they suddenly broke up and were getting a divorce. I came home to my mom and dad telling me about it. they were worried. I asked them what happened. they said her husband smacked her all around the house, which wasn't like him at all. I said there must be a reason, like she spent every last bit of money they had and now they're flat broke, or something like that. they looked at each other. that was exactly what happened.
cue the Jaws music...
here is a picture of my grandmother (right) with her sister Gramzilla (left) and some brothers on a double date.
she looked a little better when cleaned up. you would never guess what evil lurked behind that pretty face.
she was 100% Polish. she married a hardworking, honest, Irishman who made a name for himself and carved a handsome living out of this harsh world starting with nothing. he owned an apartment building, bought a used house from a General in the Army, and and bought stocks in oil & gas companies. he gave her everything: fur coats, expensive Italian shoes, promised her she would never have to work another day in her life. and it was true. she never did have to work another day to the day she died.
for her part, she was cruel and manipulative. they had one daughter, who she would do such cruel things to that, as the little girl would later write in her diary, her dad would have killed her if he found out. it's true, from what I know of him he would have.
one day the little girl screamed ather mother that if she doesn't stop it, she would tell her father. she quit and that was the end of that.
later he would become an alcoholic and walk away from it all, never to be heard from again.
in the meantime their daughter grew up, got married and had a baby boy, me, who she would bring to her mother's house. I was grandma's little grandson and I thought she was wonderful. I had no idea what she was really like.
sometimes my mother would have to come over to cut her mother's hair; later, my dad would tell me that many times it was all he could do to stop her from stabbing the scissors in her back.
here is a picture of me and the grandparents.
when I was little I would have been completely oblivious to the evil things that were probably going through her mind.
but let's go back to the wedding. when they were married, she was 17 and he was 23. this picture sums them up quite well. he was always like "Hello! How are you?" she was like "let's go! we have a cake to cut"
she didn't waste time getting down to business with anything.
"oh! what a nice present! come closer, dear"
"...closer..."
no! don't go in there! it's a trap! aaahhhh
"too late! nyah hah haaahhh"
and that's when she had me.
my dad had an orange cat. she hated that cat. she trapped it in a box, drove across town and dumped it. it came back. later when it got too old she did something to it and we never saw it again. she would have a lifelong habit of throwing away things of yours she didn't like behind your back and denying everything.
my dad had a brand new '68 Torino GT. she would always race people in it (kept telling her not to) one time on April Fool's Day she called him up at work and told him she totalled it. he about had a heart attack. surprise! it was just a joke!
she did some modelling for my dad
then she did some amateur modelling
she looked different when she wasn't all dolled up...
in the meantime she had my sister.
now we were a complete family.
I was always more resistant to punishment by the parents than my sister was. that is, I stood up for myself. but the mom still whipped me with coat hangers because they hurt worse than a belt. my sister, on the other hand, got her hair cut off "mommy dearest" style, "unbreakable" plates broken over her head (they said unbreakable on the bottom anyways, they weren't) and my dad got his fingers broken when she threw the telephone at him (he had his hand on the wall where it hit) another time she threw the vacuum cleaner at him but he ducked around the corner. it was too big and slow. so she went back to telephones and ashtrays. or when me and my sister would fight too much so they would tie us together with a belt and push us outside in the snow until we quit, or that time I was in the 4th grade and dad was gone for 2 weeks so she kicked me out of the house for some unknown reason and I had to live in a tent in the back yard I made with a tarp and the swingset and get food from my friend's house until he got back, etc etc
ah yes, you might ask which came first, my mom or Satan.
well...
but let's talk about her nemesis, my dad's sister.
she was 4 years older than my dad. I hear she treated him like crap. she always was a brat.
maybe it had something to do with those creepy friends of hers.
here she is smoking a cigarette behind her dad's house.
she was a real tigress. she wore the pants in the house and the husband she married wasn't more an an accessory, as in vacuum cleaner attachment. they already had four children but now the score was 4-2 and she was getting jealous of my mom.
my dad and his sister didn't talk to each other. I was still a little kid and practically worshipped the ground she walked on because I didn't know any better. later on one of her daughters (the moose in the middle of the above picture) tried to get them together by having a picnic and talking things over. they refused to reconcile and we all went our seperate ways again.
when their father died, she kept the $60,000 in his bank account ($135,000 in 2019 dollars) and wouldn't give any to my dad. she said what are you going to do about it. and bought a new house. in the meantime her husband took all the tools out of his garage but left my dad to deal with the junk left in the house.
when she was older she fell and broke her hip. me and my dad were deciding whether we should go visit her in the hospital. we decided not to.
years later when my dad passed away, me and my sister both went to her house before the funeral. she was nice to me on the phone, but when we got there she played a trick.
she was nice to us at first. shortly she played like something I said pissed her off and she would ignore me and carry on a wonderful conversation with my sister; when we were leaving she insulted me. afterwards my sister said "why was she so nice to me? she was a total bitch on the phone when I talked to her!" well that's what she did, it was a setup. she was using my sister to "get my goat". she didn't really care about either of us from the beginning.
me and my sister were two peas in a pod.
when she was a little girl she had a stuffed crocodile she took with her everywhere she went. including when the folks took us to see Jaws. she cried when Jaws died. "waaaah! it was only hungry! waaaaahhh"
later she would get a job at a large insurance company calling people that owed money; then she got a job for a bank foreclosing loans, then she was a recruiter for an employemnt agency.
she was about to marry one guy that had a good career ahead of him making lots of money with computers. something like a week before the wedding she dumped him. said he was too boring. so she went and married a construction worker. he wasn't making any money but hey whatever makes her happy... and the problem was a lack of money made her not happy. they had two kids and she was always wanting me to come over and spend time with the little monsters
but I didn't.
one day they suddenly broke up and were getting a divorce. I came home to my mom and dad telling me about it. they were worried. I asked them what happened. they said her husband smacked her all around the house, which wasn't like him at all. I said there must be a reason, like she spent every last bit of money they had and now they're flat broke, or something like that. they looked at each other. that was exactly what happened.
cue the Jaws music...
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Makes my family rather boring. 0 -
Damn, thats some nasty moms. Known some women that are a bit to forthcoming with remarks. Nothing like what you have experienced. Mothers day is a good time to explain that its not all wine and roses. If you select the wrong girl. Your life is a living hell. Life can be a struggle even with the good ones.
Like the old saying goes. You can pick your friends. Not your family.0 -
if everybody wants to make things work out, things will work out.
all the yucky stuff you get is when somebody (or nobody) just doesn't care about that.0 -
And I guess you were a little angel through all this? 0 -
nice
to have all the old family photos to pass on with the stories priceless :shock:
a lot of them look familiar to my child hood My dad bought a new 69 torino gt I remember it was right at 3K light blue 351 ( !~ was 12 and begged him to get the 428 ) many years later I found and bought a 428 version
my wife mother dad came from Poland left a family there and started a new one here we seen old letters from the 1st family talking about how bad it was during the war(WWII )and one kid killed in the bombings
sorry not competing just a flood of memories came to me while reading your post0 -
jimdeere wrote:And I guess you were a little angel through all this?
I never whipped my parents with coat hangers, threw stuff at them, yelled a them, starved them, threw them out of the house, etc or what are you thinking? several times I got smacked right out of my chair for reading a book at the dinner table. doing something worse than that was unthinkable, I didn't want to get beat.Ditch-Runner wrote:nice
to have all the old family photos to pass on with the stories priceless :shock:
a lot of them look familiar to my child hood My dad bought a new 69 torino gt I remember it was right at 3K light blue 351 ( !~ was 12 and begged him to get the 428 ) many years later I found and bought a 428 version
my wife mother dad came from Poland left a family there and started a new one here we seen old letters from the 1st family talking about how bad it was during the war(WWII )and one kid killed in the bombings
sorry not competing just a flood of memories came to me while reading your post
back in the 70's/80's grandma would send a box or two of consumer goods to Poland every month. cheese, cereal, toilet paper, dried milk, etc. and a letter written in Polish. I don't know who or why but I might assume it was relatives. she never explained it to me.0 -
:twisted: :twisted:jimdeere wrote:And I guess you were a little angel through all this?0 -
you did have some lulus
some of the stories would blend right in with my and my wifes families different times and tough conditions I write it off too
I know very little about my wife's grand parents just stories bits and pieces
they told me grandma was, well not so friendly ( lost member of your family maybe ) she was suppose to have been a gypsy .
my MIL, I ask once about speaking polish ? her dad refused to teach any of the ( new family USA ) any of it said you live in America speak English no need for polish
my great grandparents dads side my dad only told me his grandfather was a very mean old man, end of discussion every time I would askbuschmaster wrote:jimdeere wrote:And I guess you were a little angel through all this?
I never whipped my parents with coat hangers, threw stuff at them, yelled a them, starved them, threw them out of the house, etc or what are you thinking? several times I got smacked right out of my chair for reading a book at the dinner table. doing something worse than that was unthinkable, I didn't want to get beat.Ditch-Runner wrote:nice
to have all the old family photos to pass on with the stories priceless :shock:
a lot of them look familiar to my child hood My dad bought a new 69 torino gt I remember it was right at 3K light blue 351 ( !~ was 12 and begged him to get the 428 ) many years later I found and bought a 428 version
my wife mother dad came from Poland left a family there and started a new one here we seen old letters from the 1st family talking about how bad it was during the war(WWII )and one kid killed in the bombings
sorry not competing just a flood of memories came to me while reading your post
back in the 70's/80's grandma would send a box or two of consumer goods to Poland every month. cheese, cereal, toilet paper, dried milk, etc. and a letter written in Polish. I don't know who or why but I might assume it was relatives. she never explained it to me.0 -
Thanks for the stroll down memory lane. 0 -
Many times I have said,
"The meanest animal on the face of the earth is the female human."
None more cold, more conniving, more vicious, or more vindictive.0 -
Ditch-Runner wrote:you did have some lulus
some of the stories would blend right in with my and my wifes families different times and tough conditions I write it off too
I know very little about my wife's grand parents just stories bits and pieces
they told me grandma was, well not so friendly ( lost member of your family maybe ) she was suppose to have been a gypsy .
my MIL, I ask once about speaking polish ? her dad refused to teach any of the ( new family USA ) any of it said you live in America speak English no need for polish
my great grandparents dads side my dad only told me his grandfather was a very mean old man, end of discussion every time I would ask
hear what you're saying, it was sort of in reverse for my grandma. she wasn't from Poland, both her parents were and they didn't speak English. the kids taught them English from what they learned in school, correct grammar and all that.
I think these other immigrants who don't want to assimilate, like Somalis, Muslims, some Mexicans, shows a lack of appreciation. because the ones who are enthusiastic about learning English sure do appreciate America.0
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