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In the doghouse...

At least I was last night. So, after going to my cousin's wedding and taking pictures since my other cousin who was supposed to take them did not even show up, we go and get some food because we don't want to wait until 3 to eat since we were hungry then. Mom looks at the pictures I took and the pictures dad took and was like 'oh I'm so proud of both of you!' blah blah blah.

Then we hit up the reception, right? Bunch of family that I've never met and they insist on hugging and kissing me... okay, I've met them, but I have no damned clue who the hell they are, and that makes me uncomfortable because I'm not a touchy feely kind of guy and I'm even less touchy feely around people who are basically strangers in my life.

Bunch of booze. BUNCH OF BOOZE. This is to be expected, since my mother's family is a bunch of hardcore alcoholics, just like her. I tell dad that I need to get out of there, especially when I see the 16 year old daughter of the bride start asking where the jell-o shots are. I should have taken a picture of all the liquor they had. It was shameless.

One of my cousins comes up to me as I'm waiting by the car and says something about why I'm not in the back with all my family and I say that I can't standing being around a bunch of alcoholics.

So, cut to about 10:30ish last night when my mom is plastered after drinking at the party and drinking at the house (we had people over, which is just an excuse for her to get more drunk because she's the hostess), she starts screaming at me about how people can't be perfect and that when I get cancer I'll feel differently.

Yeah, mom wished cancer on me. Because, you know, I smoke so much, and spend so much time in the sun. So if I do get cancer it would be because of some freak stroke of unluckiness. I think. That's how it works, right?