Not this old bitch. If anyone is reading this you are thinking what kind of horrible bitch am I to write such things. I think if my grandma went to hell Satan himself would pack a bag and runaway. She's that bad.
My grandma Vicky was always a bitch even as a young girl. She was a drama queen and jealous of her 3 sisters and 2 brothers. Whenever something happened to them something HAD to happen to her. Most of them are dead now but the last remaining few can't stand her either. My grandfather died when my dad was 9 years old. We are told he had a heart attack and died in the middle of 67th street Brooklyn as they were talking to eachother from the window of our house. He was professing his love for her. WRONG!
The real story is they used to fight all the time. And my grandfather died in the arms of his mistress in her apartment. Yes that's messed up but to this day all I have ever heard were lies from Vicky so who knows.
My father met my mother and Vicky hated her from the start. She would tell my mother that he wasn't home he was with other women (sometimes they were right next to eachother just to see what she'd say). I was born then 4 years later my sister Janeen was born. My mom worked like 10 hour days and my dad was Italian in Brooklyn so he was an auto mechanic So Vicky said I will take care of the children if I live here and I won't pay rent. So my parents had no choice and they agreed. Vicky raised me.
She used to show me pictures of other women and tell me that they were my mother and the stupid Irish bitch that I call mother is not my real one. So being told that I can remember being terrified of my mom when she came home. Like who is this women? Did she kidnap me? I tried to run a way when I was 5 I put clothes in my poochie bag and ran to the only place I knew Angelo's pizza which was 2 blocks away. Of course they gave me food and let me hang out and eventually my dad got me and beat the ever loving shit out of me.
I went to a catholic school called Regina Pacis where I was stuck with my cousin Christine who was a little slow. I was her bodyguard. Vicky told me never let anything happen to Christine. And I didn't. I beat kids up for making fun of her and in return the nuns beat the shit out of me. This went on until high school. She was my blood. That's all the reason I needed.
So we move to staten island where Vicky lives in the side apartment of my mothers house. The same arrangement as Brooklyn. But by now I'm a little older and very fat. Vicky thinks the cure for anything cancer, arthritis , aids whatever is hot tea. I have been drinking fucking Lipton hot tea my entire fucking life. All we ever did was have food shoved in our faces. So my sister and I were the fattest kids ever. Vicky would rearrange my moms kitchen. When she came home she no idea where anything was lol. Vicky would curse the shit out of my mom while she was at work and cook all her food and invite everyone over to eat it. My cousins would come over and they were allowed to go play in my bedroom with my toys while I had to sit on the couch and not move. I was forced to watches Ryan's hope and all that crap when I wasn't in school. Half the time I didn't go cuz she didn't want to be lonely.
Where was my Dad in all this and why isn't he telling his mother off?
When he grew up she told him it was his Job to take care of her and that's what his father wouldve wanted.
Vicky was really big on brain washing. If my sister and I didn't do what she wanted she would run to the phone and pick it up and say "do you want me to call your father so he can get upset and die like his father did? Do you want him to die?" of course we did whatever she wanted.
Birthdays and Christmases came and My family would give her gifts and she would open them and if she didn't like it she would throw it at you and yell to take it back. She does that to this very day. She screams at people in stores she curses out all of us. When my sister and I became 13 my parents felt we no longer needed a babysitter so the shit hit the fan. Years and years past still the same mean woman that only pretends to like us when she needs something. Vicky won't call my husband by his name D'Artagnan instead she calls him "the husband" and my daughter Faith is "the kid" or the bitch bastard. Vicky is going deaf now so she really screams and she is so mean to everyone still. But now that I am 34 and I've taken some classes in home health aid and pca I know the stages of aging. And I apply them to her and it all makes sense. So I do feel bad for her at times cuz I think of those classes. But then she calls me a stupid bitch and yep they all go away.
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