Hisspit

The parents had decided that since our family is "having some issues" (is totally and completely fucked up to the point of no return) that we needed a family therapist to help us.

Ermmm, what? Which incident caused this decision? We had House Meetings after I was attacked by Elf for the fifth time, and I got to steal Mom's laptop after I complained about it to Dad enough.

So why did we suddenly need a family therapist? Nothing'd changed, and no one is more or less crazy than we were six months ago. I really couldn't see how this would help at all, it seemed like a waste of money.

Whatever. See if I care. I couldn't say I like the fact that this woman (henceforth known as 'Ms. HippiGurl) wants to be our therapist because we're Christian/Jewish family with a Middle Eastern background, (I can hear it now. "You're not Muslim? How can it be?!" Muslim isn't a fucking race you morons!) but hey, she can't be THAT annoying, right?

HA! Yeah right! Ooh, this bitch is annoying. She has an airy, whispy voice can seemingly only speak in buzzwords. She sounds like a bad second grade substitute teacher. "Ok class, now we're going to READ this VERY INTERESTING BOOK about CALIFORNIA INDIANS!!"

Except now it's, "Let's TALK about the GOOD things about YOUR FAMILY and the things that ARE PROBLEMATIC." Yes. Problematic. Who the fuck says 'problematic' in everyday speak? Especially when you're talking to a mother, a teenager, a fourth grader with mental illness, and a first grader?

The kicker is that while she's "going to TALK to you ALL EQUALLY" she's also going to be interviewing the parents separately every other week and HA HA! all we talk about is Elf. (Because she can see that he "is affecting our energies in a very extreme way.")

Elf decided pretty early on (smart person that he is) that this was bullshit, and that he was leaving. Mom went up to his room to see if he would come down. The rest of the meeting was spent asking if he was going to come back so that Ms. ValleyGurl can interview him. And when she deems me worthy of speaking to, she isn't looking at me, she's staring up our stairs at his door.

When I told Ms. HippiGurl straight up that I gave the equality thing two weeks until we abandoned the pretense altogether, she hesitated for a moment, then said "Well, I, um, don't really see it that way, I see it as [insert reason here]." Then why, Madame Idiot, are you not looking at me when you say this, you are looking AT MY BROTHER'S DOOR? When I asked her this, she gave another typically weak response.

I then gave her a look. I am proud of that look. It was a good, strong, I See Right Through You And I'm Telling look. That was probably my best look yet. It was a historically amazing look.

In a weak defense, she said as she was leaving (and as Mom was coming down the stairs) that she wanted to let me know that "profane words would not be tolerated". Remember those buzzwords? She wanted me to know that if it "got out of hand" she would "have to remind me to stop".

Ms. HippiGurl, if you are reading this I would like you to know that we are now officially at war. You are not worthy of my respect or time and you will know it. I will stop at nothing to get you out of my house and out of my life. You are not to ask me any more questions about me or my experiences until you give me good reason to believe that you are not here just to interview Those Weird Muslim People Who Have That Crazy Son. You prove to me you are not here just because you can be here. You prove yourself worthy of my respect and cooperation, and I will help you.

Until then, I shall do everything in my power to destroy you. You will try and you will fail to bring me around, and I will taunt you while it happens. I will kick you when you're down.