Welcome To Gutterpunk Journalism.

So my mother married a douchebag on saturday and I didn't go.

Not as a form of protest, if she wants to marry a douchebag then more power to her. At least he's not a drug addict or violent, so an improvement is an improvement.
Nevertheless, he's a total douchebag and I didn't go.

Since my bar boss has gone to Austria I had to romp around the place the entire weekend with 10~12 hour shifts and honestly, if I'm doing that, and I have a boy and a puppy that need tending, I'm not wasting the few hours I'd have to sleep on standing in some department watching my mother cry tears of joy while her oily haired beau goes: "Hughn hughn I do."

Because that's what he does, go around laughing like "Hughn hughn" at any given moment.
He's from some place I forgot in eastern southern something europe and hasn't bothered to learn either german or english. His whole batch of brothers has planted itself into my mothers café to work, which is fine since every single one of them is brighter than the one she chose, but they still all communicate via grunting noises.

I swear to god.

He's a total douche.

Yesterday, I was sitting in the café with the dogs and the freshly married pack of mother and husband and brothers sat eating leftovers, and this idiot takes a piece of cevapcici and waves it in front of Luna's nose.

"Hughn hughn hughn" *wave wave*

Luna follows it with interest and I say: "Please don't do that."

I fucking hate that. Not only is it such a primitive and shallow behavior to derive pleasure from waving meat before a animal's face, it's mortifying to watch because you know he needs to do that just to feel superior to the dog.
He needs to do things to feel superior to a dog.

I don't like feeling mortified on someone else's behalf, it makes me want to kill them.

Instead of killing, I say: "Please don't do that." and he looks at me, goes "hughn hughn hughn!" and continues waving.

I draw in a breath to urgently repeat, and he gives her the fucking meat.

He's is such a fucking stupid asshole pighead douchebag.

So I jump up, wrestle the meat out of Luna's mouth, who hasn't done anything wrong and doesn't know what's happening, and yell at him:
"Why have you done that? I told you not to and this isn't some fucking joke ~ that's spiced meat and probably pig for all I know and it gives her diarrhea all over the place and I don't think you'll be around to clean it up! So could you please summon some common sense and respect and not behave this way?"

And my mother, who's been sitting next to him and pretends to not have a clue about animal nutrition just to baby him, goes: "Really? Oh dear, Tony, maybe you rather not do that in the future."

"Hughn hughn."

Fucking hell.
Significantly, Tony shares a name with the donkey that lives where my pony does. Tony the donkey and my pony are not friends.

By the way, this is my pony:

But you see why I didn't go to the wedding, right?
I mean, I had work to do, and my phone doesn't work so if anything, I was waiting for their calls to be informed, and then actually the dog had a bad eye and we needed to go to the vet, which was closed when we got there, and you see where this is going ~ this wedding was just the last on my list of priorities.

And then my mother, god bless her, tells us about how it went and says things like:
"Well, there weren't as many people there as we expected, it's like that with Tony's family. Where they come from, appointments just aren't as binding ~ either you're there or you aren't, maybe you cancel last minute..."
And I'm thinking, you know, this doesn't sound like a cultural phenomenon, it just sounds like the entire family constist of huge fucking disrespectful douchebags.

But whatever floats her boat. I just don't see why you'd voluntarily play warden for the mentally challenged if you're not even paid for it.

My boat was floated by not going to the wedding and instead turning my work shifts into something fun.
This weekend, I lived off my almost~forgotten diet of a gramm and a half of cocain (the high quality kind, with pieces of glass in it to scrape away your nasal septum and increase the crappy impact ), alcohol, four packs of cigarettes, some tilidin and paracetamol.
There's no way I'm gaining any weight like that, as I had planned to look luscious this summer and not bony, but hey.
I had fun.
And depending on who you're dealing with at work, drugs are sometimes pretty essential lest you club someone to death with a beer crate.
Astera witnessed him, there's this guy who's completely lost all his marbles and he comes there with his girlfriend, who is a rather poised and competent looking woman, and I have no idea why she puts up with him.

They're both in their early forties, she should know better. He's the... Wait. I was going to say "He's the sort of guy that..." but he isn't. There is no "sort of guy" like him.

He is skinny and his shirt is unbottoned halfway. He has pointy shoes and brown hair that defies any cut or do.
He screams at you in an astoundingly high~pitched voice immediately upon arrival, no matter how busy you are.
A Flanders scream.

But he screams: ""HEY! YOU! YOU! YOU!"

And you ignore him.

And he screams: ""YOUUUUUU"

Until finally, you inform him that if he can't keep it down you're going to ask him to leave, and he screams right in your ear: "RED WINE! AND SHE'S THIRSTY! THE WOMAN IS THIRSTY! GIVE ~ HEY! YOU! THIRSTY!"
Then he turns to her and screams: "DRINK! RED WINE WHAT ARE YOU DRINKING!"
Then he turns to me, who has gone away from the scene, and screams: "YOU! HEY! SHE'S THIRSTY!"

Then he tears open his shirt, rolls his eyes, bares his teeth, forgets his mission and dives over the counter to kiss her grotesquely.

I'm not exaggerating. He's very primal.

I had to get all that off my chest. I'll answer your questions next time, promise.