Knock Knock.
Who's there?
Obama's-penis-wasn't-circumsized-maybe-we-don't-know-so-he's-a-secret-muslin-terrorist!
Whargarblagragraarblgarbl!
The last time the Republican Party was serious was...like the late 1800's, right?
Ever? Anyone? Anyone?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Lotto Night
I had a dream the other night about having the winning lottery numbers. I have used those numbers for the draw tonight.
Here's hoping.
Here's hoping.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Right...
"...up there all the time...all he does now....-incoherent muttering-...and I jump up out of bed at 7:30 in the morning to see..."
It's so lovely when I come upstairs to take some more time to myself to avoid being around them. I check my mail to see if I've heard back from any of the places I've applied to. I'll dick around on the Internet and find games to play, or look at obscure news articles about topics that generally don't pertain to any aspect of my life.
Once in a while I may call you. I'll feel happy, hearing your voice and knowing you're happy to hear from me too.
But because I call at night, or sometimes you might call, I'm the villain. I'm "not right", doing things that are "sick" and they "don't understand".
The reason I'm upstairs right now is because I was going to write down some recipes I found and throw away the ugly promotional cards they came on. I was also going to put on shoes. Instead, I'm writing this now because the quote at the top is the kind of bullshit I hear every single time I go upstairs. It doesn't matter if they know I can hear them, they'll just say it to my face and go on about their day, probably asking me five minutes later what I'd like for dinner. As though assaulting me is just part of the everyday experience now.
I come upstairs and they talk about me, as though I'm some rebellious problem child that is violently out of control. And they wonder why I stay up here? If I'm such a fucking problem, maybe I should stay up here, and get out of their hair. If I hate them so much, if I'm so fucking disrespectful, maybe I should just stay up here, away from them, so I can't be hateful, so I can't act like I "don't owe (them) anything at all".
They have yet to see rebellious. They have yet to see violent, angry, and all the things they act like I'm being.
This is goddamn ridiculous.
I wish i could laugh it off, like you do, but I can't. I'm sad that things are like this, because they simply don't accept how I want to do certain things.
Maybe I can leave soon. Hopefully soon.
Oh look...they're talking about how messy I am now...
It's so lovely when I come upstairs to take some more time to myself to avoid being around them. I check my mail to see if I've heard back from any of the places I've applied to. I'll dick around on the Internet and find games to play, or look at obscure news articles about topics that generally don't pertain to any aspect of my life.
Once in a while I may call you. I'll feel happy, hearing your voice and knowing you're happy to hear from me too.
But because I call at night, or sometimes you might call, I'm the villain. I'm "not right", doing things that are "sick" and they "don't understand".
The reason I'm upstairs right now is because I was going to write down some recipes I found and throw away the ugly promotional cards they came on. I was also going to put on shoes. Instead, I'm writing this now because the quote at the top is the kind of bullshit I hear every single time I go upstairs. It doesn't matter if they know I can hear them, they'll just say it to my face and go on about their day, probably asking me five minutes later what I'd like for dinner. As though assaulting me is just part of the everyday experience now.
I come upstairs and they talk about me, as though I'm some rebellious problem child that is violently out of control. And they wonder why I stay up here? If I'm such a fucking problem, maybe I should stay up here, and get out of their hair. If I hate them so much, if I'm so fucking disrespectful, maybe I should just stay up here, away from them, so I can't be hateful, so I can't act like I "don't owe (them) anything at all".
They have yet to see rebellious. They have yet to see violent, angry, and all the things they act like I'm being.
This is goddamn ridiculous.
I wish i could laugh it off, like you do, but I can't. I'm sad that things are like this, because they simply don't accept how I want to do certain things.
Maybe I can leave soon. Hopefully soon.
Oh look...they're talking about how messy I am now...
Friday, August 7, 2009
Yeah...
"I don't think you care about us...me and Bryan. I don't know what the deal is. You don't listen to what we say...- It's like you do what you want, and your stuff is first priority."
This really is the most damning thing that has been said to me by my family. I do not know why mom insists upon such...complete nonsense. Because I hesitate to listen to her continually complain about dad, and how when I tell her that he does not listen to me (after complaining that I do not help her get the point through his thick skull) I am once again somehow siding with him, and for an added touch of flavor, hate her.
Because I try once in a while to leave the house just to be by myself, exploring the town as though I actually lived here and could have any hopes of enjoying any of it.
Because I do not immediately do chores around the house.
Because I want to talk to whoever the hell I want to talk to.
Because I am no longer a child and can and do make decisions for myself.
Because she cannot get over herself, and if I were to ever say that, she would cry and really believe I hate her.
Because my life has apparently consisted of nothing more than making one "poor choice" after another, despite finding myself to be somewhat happy and enjoying the things I've done for myself.
Because I don't live in fucking bizzaro world and don't know what the fuck she is talking about anymore.
Because I exist, probably.
Bullshit.
It's all bullshit.
This really is the most damning thing that has been said to me by my family. I do not know why mom insists upon such...complete nonsense. Because I hesitate to listen to her continually complain about dad, and how when I tell her that he does not listen to me (after complaining that I do not help her get the point through his thick skull) I am once again somehow siding with him, and for an added touch of flavor, hate her.
Because I try once in a while to leave the house just to be by myself, exploring the town as though I actually lived here and could have any hopes of enjoying any of it.
Because I do not immediately do chores around the house.
Because I want to talk to whoever the hell I want to talk to.
Because I am no longer a child and can and do make decisions for myself.
Because she cannot get over herself, and if I were to ever say that, she would cry and really believe I hate her.
Because my life has apparently consisted of nothing more than making one "poor choice" after another, despite finding myself to be somewhat happy and enjoying the things I've done for myself.
Because I don't live in fucking bizzaro world and don't know what the fuck she is talking about anymore.
Because I exist, probably.
Bullshit.
It's all bullshit.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Good News
"you have to be practical about irrational fears, otherwise you are neurotic."
Thanks, Samantha.
Thanks, Samantha.
Twitter Addiction is Real
I'm addicted to Twitter, apparently. It was attacked by hackers today, and I cannot access my account. Furthermore, my Tweetdeck is all sorts of fucked, so I'm kinda spazzing out right now.
Damn you, Interwebs...damn you...
Damn you, Interwebs...damn you...
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