by Pam From Hell

Created on: October 04, 2010

I’ve been divorced twice. Yes, twice. I believe in marriage, just not to the two people I was married to.

The absolute BEST thing about getting my first divorce? I also divorced my in-laws. They were a very strange and mean spirited bunch. They didn’t like me from the beginning when we were just dating, why I thought they might change their minds when we were married, was a trip to the land of unicorns and fairies, not the real world. The real world consisted of going to their house every Sunday for a mid-afternoon dinner of roast beef. EVERY Sunday. My mother-in-law had an unhealthy affection for Lawry’s Seasoning Salt and covered all of the food with it. Anyone who recalls this hideous spice will recall that it was orange in color. This resulted in orange roast beef, orange green beans, orange garlic bread, orange mashed potatoes, and yes, orange gravy. It was frightening to say the least. I learned to detest Sundays. I would plead with my husband to not go there, claiming I was developing an over sensitivity to orange food and would break out in hives. When I couldn’t actually produce hives, it was a futile attempt and I would end up having to eat the meal from hell. But that’s not all that was unique to this anti-Walton family.

Grandma-in-law was very close to deaf. She refused to wear a hearing aid and had done so for years, so the entire family had gotten perfectly used to yelling instead of speaking. Now add a migraine to the orange food.

Father-in-law was a high school shop teacher who never learned the art of communicating without barking. He barked orders at everyone. "PASS THE POTATOES," "WILL YOU GET ME MORE ICED TEA," "TAKE YOUR ELBOW OFF THE TABLE." You have the picture, he was a really charming guy. Someone you wouldn’t mind running his head through the band saw.

Mother-in-law was an ex-nun who never "confessed" until my husband, as a little boy, found a picture that looked a lot like mommy, only in a nun’s habit. Then the jig was up, and she had to tell the truth. Yes, it was indeed his mother. There were no rulers in the house, so I thought I was safe, but no, she had other ideas. She was "sicky sweet" to my face, and yet, I could feel the daggers piercing my back whenever I turned the other way. Lovely woman, who was a perfect match for a barking shop teacher.

Sister-in-law was the spitting image of her mother, and felt the urge to add rebellion to her spitefulness. In order to get away with her antics,

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