As I've mentioned before, I got married on the first. Sean's family (including some that he hasn't talked to in years) sent cards and gifts (read: money) "for the newlyweds" (the thank you cards are in the mail). My parents? My father told me "when he's invited to a wedding, he'll give us a wedding present." Fair play.

Worse, my mother. She asked what we wanted, I told her that our house was stocked, but our bank accounts were not, and all we needed was money. "Okay," she replies.

A month ago.

About a week ago, I was at my mom's house and she moans that she can't get us anything just yet because "she can't move". Unfortunately, she's been going to parties, and has a trip to Edmonton (three hours away) planned for next week, and really has no excuse. That's why I'd just given up on receiving anything from her, either.

To add insult to injury, though, when I was most recently at my mom's with Shannon, the subject of Shannon's wedding came up. Her fiance has said that the wedding won't happen if his best friend from Ontario can't attend. Immediately, my mom gauchely announces "well, if that's the case I'll fly him here for a wedding present." No more talking from Ashley.

I've pretty much written my mother off as a selfish fuck.

As an aside, let me mention that my parents wouldn't even both go to the hospital when Shannon went into labor. Do I want to even try to invite them both to a small civil wedding ceremony?

Nay.

Now, my father also doesn't intend on getting me a wedding gift, but there's far worse from him and that is he married a bitch.

Last time I went to my father's for dinner, steak was served. It should be known that I like my steak rare, very rare. From the second I walk in the door, my dad's wife Carla is going on about how she's dreading "watching me eat that" because according to her, I'll be talking during my meal. The evening progresses with intermittent mockery of my meat choices until finally it's zero hour and my meat is bleeding on my plate. Carla is truly losing her shit now, incessantly going on about how much it disturbs her. Finally, I tell her, "Carla, you have no idea how badly I want to ruin your meal right now" and Sean and Jason break into a line of questioning regarding the possibility of Carla owning bovine as a pet. She decided then that she would eat outside on the deck, and my dad will join her. So, it's Sean and myself, Jason and Shannon and Carla's son Mitchell inside and our wonderful hosts outside. I wonder the whole time if this is how they treat all their guests.

My father has been absent for years. He's only reemerged since Shannon got knocked up. After some months of Carla's ham-fisted insults of my mother and myself, I'm aware that my presence is only perfunctory. It would just be rude to invite Shannon (she of the grandchild) and leave me out, and if there's only thing my dad isn't, it's blatantly rude.

I'm done with my parents and their systematic destruction of my self esteem.

I'm still looking for a job, though my desire to keep attending these interviews is ebbing drastically. I have no idea who the Hell is applying for every job I apply for, but for whatever reason, I can not get a job. Cold Lake has recently discovered foreign labor and they are completely gung ho, in spite of the fact that there is some heavy duty unemployment in the area, since a lot of oil rigs went belly up. My last interview was extra awesome since the man I was interviewing with informed me many times how much he hates hiring Canadians "because they're lazy, and the Natives are even worse". He told me that he plans on refiling an LMO (labor market opinion - basically says there is no one locally to fill a position) for a Filipino woman he has working for him. It should be mentioned that this woman is as qualified as I am (he told all of her qualifications), but is not Canadian, and is therefore better. Pretty sure this is illegal?

Otherwise, I've quit smoking and thus, compounded all my insecurities regarding my parents. It's been a week (minus about 45 minutes of slipping), and I hate every second of it. My heart often feels like it's going to explode out of my chest, my anxiety is ka-powing all over the place, I cry a lot. I hate it. Apparently it gets better. Everyone who I come in contact with better hope that is the case.

So, yeah. Right now, FML.