You face about two million challenges a day – successfully getting a cab, deftly avoiding nosy neighbors, barely managing to stay in schedule, and the list goes on.

But there’s this one challenge I don’t think I’ll ever be up for – handling relatives. I’d much rather handle a rat infestation. Thank you.

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Yup.

Like most people, I’ve been blessed with a liberal dose of The Lesser Vultures. Who are these, you ask? These are the kinds of human scavengers you’re better off without. They prey on your moolah, your personal space, your clothes, your books, your makeup, and stake their claim to your stuff like it were their birthright.

Seriously? I don’t like you. Go away!

Now I’m okay with my family. Not okay with relatives, because they replace you real quick. I’ve this cousin, (we’ll call him “A”) who had a bit of a fall out with another cousin, (let’s call her “B”), who he was best friends with. So naturally, A looked to me to always be there for him. And of course being the one prize moron that I am, I was. And it was me who suggested he go fix things with B, and they did, and now, surprise, surprise, I’m always left out.

That’s another reason I hate relatives. I get sucked in. I get attached pretty quick. And attachments hurt like a mean arse pitbull, teeth snapping, chasing you while you’ve got a broken leg.

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Funnily enough, they never remember your birthday, but they do remember this one test you took and they’re like “Are the results out yet? Did you get through?” And if by any chance, God forbid, you haven’t, there’s no end to the drama. 

Every single damn day. What’s with that?! Do I ask you about your kid’s report card, woman?

Then there’s the most annoying vulture of them all: the meanest, conniving, sick and sadistic relative who’s always curious about your status updates and your profile pictures and “You look like a fat slut. High time you got married. We gotta look for boys!

Jeez.

And why, why, why is it that when these people come to visit, they grow roots and never seem to leave? Is there some kind of rule that requires you to stay and never uproot your sorry butt and maybe get yourself home?

Does anyone else have relatives like these or is it just me? Help!

Love xx

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13 thoughts on “The Lesser Vultures.

  1. I observe from afar the mess that is my father’s side of the family tree. Classic New York-Italians who always have a 30-year feud with someone that they see on the street. I mean, it’s ridiculous. Half the time I thought there was a target on my back because of that side of my family. They like to drag you into their drama, but I deleted my Facebook and kind of made it so I’m just a figment of their imagination. They know I’m there, but no real evidence. Luckily, we have the whole length of United States separating us. I love all my family, I really, really do but I’m not interested in arguing or fighting some person we see on the street because our families have been fighting for years.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I didn’t get a notification that you replied, sorry. Although the fighting seems to be inevitable, I suggest two things : play both sides and don’t get caught, or just ignore it, and tell them you don’t get into family arguments.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Can totally relate. And yes, I keep my distance. It makes me sad because even when we see each other it’s like we aren’t even related, but at some point you have to just accept things for what they are.

    Liked by 1 person

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