Wednesday, April 18, 2007
No more entries
There won't be any more entries to this blog. I feel like I'm only dwelling on shit I could easily let go of by holding onto it long enough to tell you about it. Sorry guys.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Friday, April 13th
...and the battle with DirecTV begins. As if it weren't already bad enough that Pizza Hut hates us, DirecTV does now, too. This whole thing started because we got that annual "Free HBO For 3 Days" marketing scam, which made my aunt decide that we "must have HBO right now!!"
My aunt calls the Customer Service line and is speaking to a representative for an hour about different packages, and adding satellite receivers to extra rooms before she's transferred to a different guy for billing information (or something). She must have only been talking to him for 5 minutes before I hear her yelling from the other room, and our satellite picture goes out.
"This channel not ordered" is what the screen says, and we're watching a local channel.
Rut-rohhh.
I walk into the other room to tell my aunt about the television going out, when I hear her screaming at the guy on the phone, "I have been a customer for almost 10 years, and you're gonna just let me take my business elsewhere?? Let me speak to your manager! What's your name?! Ok Dave, pull your fucking pants up and let me speak to your supervisor, little boy!" etc, etc. You get the idea. Basically, my aunt pissed off Dave, and he cancelled our service. Atta boy, Dave! Way to piss off a psycho!
After my aunt made the above comments to Dave, she screamed psychotically into the phone (at the top of her lungs), and Dave told her, "Okay ma'am, I'm going to place you on hold until you calm down," and then put my aunt on hold. She then hung up, called back, and talked to somebody else, to whom she proceeded to tell this entire story, while referring to Dave as "pimple-face".
In the end, our service was restored with 3 free months of HBO, Showtime, and Cinemax.
My aunt calls the Customer Service line and is speaking to a representative for an hour about different packages, and adding satellite receivers to extra rooms before she's transferred to a different guy for billing information (or something). She must have only been talking to him for 5 minutes before I hear her yelling from the other room, and our satellite picture goes out.
"This channel not ordered" is what the screen says, and we're watching a local channel.
Rut-rohhh.
I walk into the other room to tell my aunt about the television going out, when I hear her screaming at the guy on the phone, "I have been a customer for almost 10 years, and you're gonna just let me take my business elsewhere?? Let me speak to your manager! What's your name?! Ok Dave, pull your fucking pants up and let me speak to your supervisor, little boy!" etc, etc. You get the idea. Basically, my aunt pissed off Dave, and he cancelled our service. Atta boy, Dave! Way to piss off a psycho!
After my aunt made the above comments to Dave, she screamed psychotically into the phone (at the top of her lungs), and Dave told her, "Okay ma'am, I'm going to place you on hold until you calm down," and then put my aunt on hold. She then hung up, called back, and talked to somebody else, to whom she proceeded to tell this entire story, while referring to Dave as "pimple-face".
In the end, our service was restored with 3 free months of HBO, Showtime, and Cinemax.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Thursday, April 5th
The Lapdog has been over for a couple of days now for what my aunt calls "support." Basically, she finally talked to my cousin on Tuesday (I couldn't believe it when she told me that) and she believes her now about Sugar Daddy molesting her. Well, that was the last I heard. She was crying hysterically and called The Lapdog, asking him if he could come over for an all-nighter because she was really upset. The thing about The Lapdog that's really sad is that he has the worst character judgement of anyone I've ever met. His last girlfriend was a drug addict who just disappeared one day with a bunch of his money. When he came over and was talking to my aunt, he kept referring to Sugar Daddy as "The Good Captain" (he's a boat captain...obviously). Why in hell would you refer to him with such compassion, when his own girlfriend is telling you that she believes he molested her daughter?? What a fucking retard. "The Good Captain." Pfft.
My aunt kept going back and forth all night about whether or not she believed my cousin, and at one point even suggested that maybe it wasn't Sugar Daddy who did it - maybe she really was molested but is confused about who did it! Riiiight. You just keep on telling yourself that.
My mom called me yesterday morning while I was getting ready for work and left me a voicemail that began with, "What the fuck is up with the answering machine at the house??"
Orly?
The answering machine at my house has always just had the default recording on it from the factory, but apparently my aunt changed it on Tuesday night. My mom says that the recording goes something along the lines of, "I probably didn't answer the phone because I didn't want to talk to you...and if I do decide you're worth talking to, maybe I'll call you back."
No wai!
My aunt kept going back and forth all night about whether or not she believed my cousin, and at one point even suggested that maybe it wasn't Sugar Daddy who did it - maybe she really was molested but is confused about who did it! Riiiight. You just keep on telling yourself that.
My mom called me yesterday morning while I was getting ready for work and left me a voicemail that began with, "What the fuck is up with the answering machine at the house??"
Orly?
The answering machine at my house has always just had the default recording on it from the factory, but apparently my aunt changed it on Tuesday night. My mom says that the recording goes something along the lines of, "I probably didn't answer the phone because I didn't want to talk to you...and if I do decide you're worth talking to, maybe I'll call you back."
No wai!
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Tuesday, April 3rd
It seems like I've been in a constantly crappy mood lately, and it's been preventing me from being able to write. Everything makes sense to me in my head, but then I either don't know how to express things in words, or I say, "Fuck it," and don't even try. I would just say, "Oh well!" and ride it out, but I've been shitty towards the very few friends that I have, and it's really not their fault. Ugghhh why? Why do I have to be in the wrong? I hate that.
When I came home from work last night, my aunt had fallen asleep while talking on the phone and sitting up on the couch. Nice one! The phone was sitting on the floor like she had dropped it when she fell asleep. Okay, okay: passed out! Really she was passed out. So anyways, I stopped for a second to make sure she was like, breathing, and then proceeded to my room to get ready for a shower. When I was finished with my shower, I was getting dressed in the bathroom when I hear a knock on the bathroom door. I open the door to find my aunt (awake!) standing there with a look of horror on her face. I immediately assumed something bad had happened, until she said, "Oh my God. I was running the kitchen thing [I assume she meant the kitchen faucet.] and I forgot you were using the shower and I think I messed up your stuff!" My stuff? Do you mean...hot water?
"No, no, it's fine. I'm done with my shower, I didn't end it early because of not having hot water...or anything."
"Oh thank God! I was so worried. Oh, you can use the internet if you want. I'm done with the phone."
Cool.
So after I'm done with brushing my hair and getting into my pajamas and whatnot, I sit down at the computer with a beer (oh, beer....sweet, sweet bliss), and my aunt says, "Do you have free minutes on your cell phone?"
Oh God. Here we go. I let her use my cell phone to call The Lapdog, where she proceeds to initiate a conversation with him about his girlfriend's body. When I say body, I mean...like...parts that only he sees. He just started seeing this girl, and my disgusting aunt wants to know the color of her...and if she prefers...nevermind. After spending 2 hours trying to ignore her conversation, she finally hangs up and hands me back my phone. I, in turn, headed to the bathroom and started disinfecting it, because it was all slimey and nasty when she gave it back. I felt sick when I looked at it. I don't know when the last time she showered was...but I can smell her stench when she walks past me.
When I came home from work last night, my aunt had fallen asleep while talking on the phone and sitting up on the couch. Nice one! The phone was sitting on the floor like she had dropped it when she fell asleep. Okay, okay: passed out! Really she was passed out. So anyways, I stopped for a second to make sure she was like, breathing, and then proceeded to my room to get ready for a shower. When I was finished with my shower, I was getting dressed in the bathroom when I hear a knock on the bathroom door. I open the door to find my aunt (awake!) standing there with a look of horror on her face. I immediately assumed something bad had happened, until she said, "Oh my God. I was running the kitchen thing [I assume she meant the kitchen faucet.] and I forgot you were using the shower and I think I messed up your stuff!" My stuff? Do you mean...hot water?
"No, no, it's fine. I'm done with my shower, I didn't end it early because of not having hot water...or anything."
"Oh thank God! I was so worried. Oh, you can use the internet if you want. I'm done with the phone."
Cool.
So after I'm done with brushing my hair and getting into my pajamas and whatnot, I sit down at the computer with a beer (oh, beer....sweet, sweet bliss), and my aunt says, "Do you have free minutes on your cell phone?"
Oh God. Here we go. I let her use my cell phone to call The Lapdog, where she proceeds to initiate a conversation with him about his girlfriend's body. When I say body, I mean...like...parts that only he sees. He just started seeing this girl, and my disgusting aunt wants to know the color of her...and if she prefers...nevermind. After spending 2 hours trying to ignore her conversation, she finally hangs up and hands me back my phone. I, in turn, headed to the bathroom and started disinfecting it, because it was all slimey and nasty when she gave it back. I felt sick when I looked at it. I don't know when the last time she showered was...but I can smell her stench when she walks past me.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Sunday, April 1st
I decided today that I wanted to finally clean my room. It was getting ridiculously messy, and I finally got sick of it. Anyways, it was kind of overwhelming to look at, but it only ended up taking me an hour to finish - and that included wiping everything down, sorting my laundry, and beer breaks. I really did blow the task out of proportion.
I kept going in and out of my room as I was cleaning it, and when I went out to the backyard to throw away my trash (we keep the trash bins back there), I saw that our bunny was romping around in the grass. He ran up to me and started nuzzling his head against my ankle, and I felt terrible for him because I realized that I never give him any attention. When I came back into the house, my uncle asked me if the bunny was still out there. "I can't go out there while he's out there. He chases me, and he has sharp teeth."
Are you kidding me?? You're scared of the bunny??
"Yeah, he's still out there." I smile.
"Can you throw this away for me then? I can't go out there."
On the outside, I'm smiling. On the inside, I'm rolling my eyes and thinking about how much of a weenie you are.
My aunt slept until around 8pm, and woke up puking like usual. I'm fairly convinced that she wakes up that way because sleeping causes her to have DTs (delirium tremens, or alcohol withdrawals for those who don't know). God forbid she try to sleep for 7 or 8 hours! She tries to blame it on all kinds of ridiculous bullshit. "You lit a cigarette in the house while I was sleeping! You know how that makes me sick!" or even the occasional "The smell of coffee brewing has made me sick ever since I was pregnant."
I know. Deep inside, I'm rolling my eyes, too. If only denial actually were a river in Egypt.
I kept going in and out of my room as I was cleaning it, and when I went out to the backyard to throw away my trash (we keep the trash bins back there), I saw that our bunny was romping around in the grass. He ran up to me and started nuzzling his head against my ankle, and I felt terrible for him because I realized that I never give him any attention. When I came back into the house, my uncle asked me if the bunny was still out there. "I can't go out there while he's out there. He chases me, and he has sharp teeth."
Are you kidding me?? You're scared of the bunny??
"Yeah, he's still out there." I smile.
"Can you throw this away for me then? I can't go out there."
On the outside, I'm smiling. On the inside, I'm rolling my eyes and thinking about how much of a weenie you are.
My aunt slept until around 8pm, and woke up puking like usual. I'm fairly convinced that she wakes up that way because sleeping causes her to have DTs (delirium tremens, or alcohol withdrawals for those who don't know). God forbid she try to sleep for 7 or 8 hours! She tries to blame it on all kinds of ridiculous bullshit. "You lit a cigarette in the house while I was sleeping! You know how that makes me sick!" or even the occasional "The smell of coffee brewing has made me sick ever since I was pregnant."
I know. Deep inside, I'm rolling my eyes, too. If only denial actually were a river in Egypt.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Friday, March 29th
Yeah it's been 2 weeks since I've written anything. Sorry to disappoint you all, but I've had a lot of my own stuff going on lately, and writing about my problems at home hasn't exactly been my idea of fun. I definately wanted to give you something though, so that you don't all abandon my poor piece of existance and only real outlet. Things at home are still a mess. Actually, they got a little bit worse when my aunt’s brother sent her an e-mail a couple weeks ago, expressing his concern for her health and sanity. After my aunt’s anger subsided, she spent a week patronizing the e-mail.
“Oh, well I’m just an alcoholic…and I don’t care about anybody but myself, and you’re all enablers,” she would say in a very quiet voice…as if looking for sympathy. It was ridiculous.
The e-mail that her brother sent her stated that my cousin is now saying that my aunt also molested her. I’m trying really hard to stay out of this mess, but my aunt keeps trying to bring me into it. It really is heart breaking to see her crying hysterically, saying, “All I ever wanted was to have a child – a daughter…and I got my wish! I got my baby girl…and she has hurt me more than anybody else in this entire world! My own flesh and blood, the one thing I’ve wanted my entire life, and she’s killing me!” Yeah…intense. It sucks, but she really did bring it upon herself.
The part that gets me is that after my aunt told me this, she was crying and wanted a hug. So, I hug her, and all I can think about is how badly she smelled, and I wondered when her last shower was. I mean, I thought I was gonna heave. I’m so shallow.
In other news, my aunt hasn’t had any more incidents with painkillers or muscle relaxers. Go Prozac!
“Oh, well I’m just an alcoholic…and I don’t care about anybody but myself, and you’re all enablers,” she would say in a very quiet voice…as if looking for sympathy. It was ridiculous.
The e-mail that her brother sent her stated that my cousin is now saying that my aunt also molested her. I’m trying really hard to stay out of this mess, but my aunt keeps trying to bring me into it. It really is heart breaking to see her crying hysterically, saying, “All I ever wanted was to have a child – a daughter…and I got my wish! I got my baby girl…and she has hurt me more than anybody else in this entire world! My own flesh and blood, the one thing I’ve wanted my entire life, and she’s killing me!” Yeah…intense. It sucks, but she really did bring it upon herself.
The part that gets me is that after my aunt told me this, she was crying and wanted a hug. So, I hug her, and all I can think about is how badly she smelled, and I wondered when her last shower was. I mean, I thought I was gonna heave. I’m so shallow.
In other news, my aunt hasn’t had any more incidents with painkillers or muscle relaxers. Go Prozac!
Monday, March 12, 2007
Monday, March 12th
My uncle smoothed things over with my cousin yesterday and managed to get her to take down that bulletin from MySpace. Sugar Daddy was at my house visiting my aunt because it was his birthday, and I found out from him that he was literally ready to empty his bank account and flee to Nicaragua. He's a boat captain, and he was worried that the Coast Guard was gonna come after him since she posted his name on the internet. I'm trying to decide whether or not that seems like something that an innocent man would do. Flee the country, I mean. Anyways, all he wanted for his birthday was for my uncle to talk my cousin into removing that bulletin, which she did.
After Sugar Daddy left, my uncle kept going on and on about, "Well at least we got her to take the stuff off the internet. That's all that matters right now. Today is a good day. Nobody's going to fight today. The fact that -my cousin's name- removed that stuff makes today so good that nobody is going to ruin it."
This, naturally, was immediately followed by my uncle bitching about something petty...then cutting himself short and announcing, "No, no...I forgot...today's a good day. No bitching. I'll stop." This cycle repeated itself every 20-30 minutes all day long. It was more annoying than any recent 'normal' day. Though, we all know that there aren't very many of those at my house.
My aunt got into an argument over the weekend with The Lapdog because he told her that he's concerned for her sanity. The thing about The Lapdog is that he does whatever my aunt says, but he's the first person to tell her when she's wrong or being unreasonable. On Friday night, for example, when she started screaming at me, he defended me and told her, "That wasn't necessary!!"...which resulted in another fight between them.
I was compared to a clam by a friend of mine yesterday. Yeah, he said that I have this hard outer shell, but I'm actually soft on the inside...and that as soon as somebody starts to get close to me, I close myself up and won't let them near me anymore. This is a pretty true analogy. The way I look at it...if that clam stays open when other people or things get close to it, they might kick sand into of it...and that poor clam will have to sit there and work on getting rid of all that sand. Why bother, right? I guess that when people tell me that they're concerned about me I should come up with a different response than "I'm fine" because nobody seems to be buying it.
After Sugar Daddy left, my uncle kept going on and on about, "Well at least we got her to take the stuff off the internet. That's all that matters right now. Today is a good day. Nobody's going to fight today. The fact that -my cousin's name- removed that stuff makes today so good that nobody is going to ruin it."
This, naturally, was immediately followed by my uncle bitching about something petty...then cutting himself short and announcing, "No, no...I forgot...today's a good day. No bitching. I'll stop." This cycle repeated itself every 20-30 minutes all day long. It was more annoying than any recent 'normal' day. Though, we all know that there aren't very many of those at my house.
My aunt got into an argument over the weekend with The Lapdog because he told her that he's concerned for her sanity. The thing about The Lapdog is that he does whatever my aunt says, but he's the first person to tell her when she's wrong or being unreasonable. On Friday night, for example, when she started screaming at me, he defended me and told her, "That wasn't necessary!!"...which resulted in another fight between them.
I was compared to a clam by a friend of mine yesterday. Yeah, he said that I have this hard outer shell, but I'm actually soft on the inside...and that as soon as somebody starts to get close to me, I close myself up and won't let them near me anymore. This is a pretty true analogy. The way I look at it...if that clam stays open when other people or things get close to it, they might kick sand into of it...and that poor clam will have to sit there and work on getting rid of all that sand. Why bother, right? I guess that when people tell me that they're concerned about me I should come up with a different response than "I'm fine" because nobody seems to be buying it.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Saturday, March 10th
What a wild ride. The last 24 hours of my life have been a fucking nightmare. From the time I got home from work last night, I've been wanting to find a hole to crawl into to hide. My house is like a war zone, and it started with my uncle hanging up on my cousin when they were talking on the phone. I guess she told him that she has terrible parents. He, naturally, got upset (it was his birthday) and hung up on her. He then decided that he wanted all the pictures of his daughter taken off of my aunt's computer, which sits in the living room. My aunt flipped out on him for touching her computer, and pulled the power plug to it. Basically, it only escalated from there, and I walked into this whole situation without knowing about it. I went to use the computer when I got home from work, and my aunt exploded on me - just absolutely went off. I slowly got up and walked away...facing her the whole time (psychos throw things at you...so I needed to watch for projectiles) and went to my room to cry. I never cry...so this was kinda bad. I've just kinda gotten used to the problems here and problems in life and have learned to deal with them...but last night got to me.
This changes things.
Me: +2
Psycho Bitch: +1
Damn - she's closing that gap.
Then came the phone call this morning from my mom. She called my aunt to read her a bulletin that my cousin posted on MySpace, which I've pasted for you to read here (all spelling and grammar errors were left the way she typed them, and I removed names):
"This is real: Iv'e done nothing wrong and I've only told the truth. My parents don't know how to be parents. My mom she's an alchoholic and smokes marajuana she could care less about me. My dad I used to think he was cool and he dose'nt belive me when I tell him I was mollested by my moms "trusted" friend. I was mollested by -name removed- he's a fucking pervert and i want his A** in jail! the rest of my family belives me wy can't my EX-parents. im tired of them choosing what they want over me. So i say screw them im better off without them. Just in case any of my mom's friends read this tell her that i hate her and my dad thev'e done nothing but almost killed me. Iv'e slit my wrist to the pint where ive not even noticed the physical pain but focused on the damn mental pain. All my sorrow is all their fault. i never want to speak to those a-holes again! And as for -name removed- his ass in is in deep f****** trouble. He helped f-up my life now ill help F-up his. when hes in jail the only action hell get is a big immate behind him when he drops the soap."
So. Yeah. I dunno.
I talked to my ex boyfriend this morning, and he told me that I'm rotting and dying inside. Ooo. I must be loads of fun to hang out with, huh?
That's all for now. I promise I won't cry again. I'm stronger than that.
This changes things.
Me: +2
Psycho Bitch: +1
Damn - she's closing that gap.
Then came the phone call this morning from my mom. She called my aunt to read her a bulletin that my cousin posted on MySpace, which I've pasted for you to read here (all spelling and grammar errors were left the way she typed them, and I removed names):
"This is real: Iv'e done nothing wrong and I've only told the truth. My parents don't know how to be parents. My mom she's an alchoholic and smokes marajuana she could care less about me. My dad I used to think he was cool and he dose'nt belive me when I tell him I was mollested by my moms "trusted" friend. I was mollested by -name removed- he's a fucking pervert and i want his A** in jail! the rest of my family belives me wy can't my EX-parents. im tired of them choosing what they want over me. So i say screw them im better off without them. Just in case any of my mom's friends read this tell her that i hate her and my dad thev'e done nothing but almost killed me. Iv'e slit my wrist to the pint where ive not even noticed the physical pain but focused on the damn mental pain. All my sorrow is all their fault. i never want to speak to those a-holes again! And as for -name removed- his ass in is in deep f****** trouble. He helped f-up my life now ill help F-up his. when hes in jail the only action hell get is a big immate behind him when he drops the soap."
So. Yeah. I dunno.
I talked to my ex boyfriend this morning, and he told me that I'm rotting and dying inside. Ooo. I must be loads of fun to hang out with, huh?
That's all for now. I promise I won't cry again. I'm stronger than that.
Friday, March 9, 2007
Things My Uncle Taught Me
The 405 Freeway is full of women who put their foot up on the dashboard and point the A/C vent at their crotch to cool it down.
I personally have never seen this, but my uncle insists that it's true.
"They air out their crotch with the air conditioner? Why on Earth would they do that? I've never heard of that, nor have I seen it."
"Really? I see it all the time! Yeah, they do it because their crotch is all sweaty."
Excuse me while I go vomit.
I'm sorry, but I'm a twenty-something year old girl, living in Los Angeles during the 21st century, and even I find it hard to believe that this is true. Do you see dead people too, uncle?
I personally have never seen this, but my uncle insists that it's true.
"They air out their crotch with the air conditioner? Why on Earth would they do that? I've never heard of that, nor have I seen it."
"Really? I see it all the time! Yeah, they do it because their crotch is all sweaty."
Excuse me while I go vomit.
I'm sorry, but I'm a twenty-something year old girl, living in Los Angeles during the 21st century, and even I find it hard to believe that this is true. Do you see dead people too, uncle?
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Tuesday, March 6th
Last night I stayed away from home and spent time with a friend of mine. We watched DVDs, ate cheesecake and grilled cheese sandwiches, and drank Alize. It was pretty ghetto fabulous.
Being at home feels like babysitting, and I hate kids.
I did, however, wake my aunt up when I came through the front door at 2a.m. this morning! She was not pleased. Therefore...
Me: +2
Psycho Bitch: 0
Man, I love having the upper hand.
Sugar Daddy was at our house this morning, and I'd be lying to say that I wasn't eavesdropping on his conversation with my aunt while I was getting ready for work. Man it's appalling to hear a mother say, "That little bitch is full of shit," about her own daughter.
And people say 'kids are cruel'? I think my aunt just poured the chocolatey topping on the cruel sundae.
Ooo...I think I want a sundae.
Being at home feels like babysitting, and I hate kids.
I did, however, wake my aunt up when I came through the front door at 2a.m. this morning! She was not pleased. Therefore...
Me: +2
Psycho Bitch: 0
Man, I love having the upper hand.
Sugar Daddy was at our house this morning, and I'd be lying to say that I wasn't eavesdropping on his conversation with my aunt while I was getting ready for work. Man it's appalling to hear a mother say, "That little bitch is full of shit," about her own daughter.
And people say 'kids are cruel'? I think my aunt just poured the chocolatey topping on the cruel sundae.
Ooo...I think I want a sundae.
Monday, March 5, 2007
Monday, March 5th
If it seems to you like my last several entries have been more depressing than funny, that's because things at my house aren't exactly slapstick right now. My aunt has completely disowned her daughter because her daughter is accusing Sugar Daddy of molestation. My aunt says that her daughter is lying, and has completely taken Sugar Daddy's side. The Lapdog has even taken his side because he does whatever my aunt says. I personally haven't taken a side in any of this because it's really none of my fucking business. These people are not physically related to me, and this is getting really serious. My uncle asked me what I think he should do, and I told him that I don't want to get involved.
I did, however, tell him that coming from a girl's standpoint, if I told my parents that a friend of the family had molested me, and they still let him come around the house, it would mean that they don't care whether or not it's true. The issue of whether it's true or not is something completely different...but by letting him come to the house still, it would show me that they don't care. I told my uncle that he shouldn't let Sugar Daddy come to the house anymore because of that, and because if he and my aunt do end up getting a divorce and this whole molestation thing comes up in court, it would raise a serious "quality of parenting" issue if he wanted to try to gain custody of my cousin, yet let this man come to his house after he had been told about the possible molestation.
So anyways, let's move away from that whole mess and talk about me. I mean...this is my blog. I've been spending my nights drowning away my homicidal urges (not really) with beer and Oreos. It's really helping. I've been kinda depressed lately, and therefore wanting to do nothing but sleep. I can't seem to sleep enough. Last night, I was having trouble sleeping, so I stayed on the computer (that sits 2ft. from the sofa my aunt sleeps on) all night (like, until 4a.m.) when she had to be up early for a doctors appointment this morning. She was pretty pissed at me. And it was pretty awesome.
Me: +1
Psycho Bitch: 0
Woot!
I did, however, tell him that coming from a girl's standpoint, if I told my parents that a friend of the family had molested me, and they still let him come around the house, it would mean that they don't care whether or not it's true. The issue of whether it's true or not is something completely different...but by letting him come to the house still, it would show me that they don't care. I told my uncle that he shouldn't let Sugar Daddy come to the house anymore because of that, and because if he and my aunt do end up getting a divorce and this whole molestation thing comes up in court, it would raise a serious "quality of parenting" issue if he wanted to try to gain custody of my cousin, yet let this man come to his house after he had been told about the possible molestation.
So anyways, let's move away from that whole mess and talk about me. I mean...this is my blog. I've been spending my nights drowning away my homicidal urges (not really) with beer and Oreos. It's really helping. I've been kinda depressed lately, and therefore wanting to do nothing but sleep. I can't seem to sleep enough. Last night, I was having trouble sleeping, so I stayed on the computer (that sits 2ft. from the sofa my aunt sleeps on) all night (like, until 4a.m.) when she had to be up early for a doctors appointment this morning. She was pretty pissed at me. And it was pretty awesome.
Me: +1
Psycho Bitch: 0
Woot!
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Wednesday, February 28th
I can't describe the way I feel right now. It feels almost like I'm walking around in the world with clouds in my head, and thick skin made of steel. I feel like I don't (or can't) care about anybody in this world but myself - like if everyone in the world were to die, it wouldn't even phase me. I don't know though if that's because I don't care, or because I'm in a form of shock, and it just wouldn't register with me. Living in this environment is starting to take it's toll. I have a feeling that by the time I leave here, I won't even know how to socialize with normal people.
Nothing worth writing about happened at home yesterday, so you're stuck with just that.
Have a nice day.
Nothing worth writing about happened at home yesterday, so you're stuck with just that.
Have a nice day.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Tuesday, February 27th
The nicotine-stained walls in my house have white squares in random places because my aunt has taken down all of the religious pictures or paintings that used to be there. My aunt comes from a long line of pastors. Her brother, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were all pastors, and she was brought up in a family that ran a church. Think what you want about churches and organized religion - that's all beside the point. The point is that she was brought up in this type of family, and has now removed any semblance of God or Christianity in general from our house.
"God doesn't exist. I'm sure of it. If God existed, I wouldn't have to deal with these problems, and I wouldn't have had to live the type of life I've had to live. When you die, that's it. There's nothing left. I'm sure of it."
I can't efficiently explain to any of you how significant this is. Granted, my aunt hasn't exactly lived a life of righteousness, but it's still a big deal.
The Lapdog and my aunt had another one of their usually alcohol-induced fights that end with them both crying. Last night's was because my aunt misses Sugar Daddy (who just got back from Costa Rica and came to our house this morning), hates her daughter, and wants to kill herself.
Is it so wrong for me to just get irritated with all of this, and not be the least bit concerned? I feel so callous and cold for not caring because I feel like I should...but no matter how hard I try, I just don't. I feel bad for my uncle, and I feel bad for their daughter in Arizona. As for my aunt, I feel like she has brought this all upon herself, and that all she's doing is crying out for attention. As for her suicide attempt, I feel that she is being completely self-centered by not caring that she almost left her 13-year old daughter without a mother.
That's all I really have for now. I just needed to vent, and I wanted to tell you all about the box of Jesus nick-knacks that is sitting by the door, waiting to be thrown out.
"God doesn't exist. I'm sure of it. If God existed, I wouldn't have to deal with these problems, and I wouldn't have had to live the type of life I've had to live. When you die, that's it. There's nothing left. I'm sure of it."
I can't efficiently explain to any of you how significant this is. Granted, my aunt hasn't exactly lived a life of righteousness, but it's still a big deal.
The Lapdog and my aunt had another one of their usually alcohol-induced fights that end with them both crying. Last night's was because my aunt misses Sugar Daddy (who just got back from Costa Rica and came to our house this morning), hates her daughter, and wants to kill herself.
Is it so wrong for me to just get irritated with all of this, and not be the least bit concerned? I feel so callous and cold for not caring because I feel like I should...but no matter how hard I try, I just don't. I feel bad for my uncle, and I feel bad for their daughter in Arizona. As for my aunt, I feel like she has brought this all upon herself, and that all she's doing is crying out for attention. As for her suicide attempt, I feel that she is being completely self-centered by not caring that she almost left her 13-year old daughter without a mother.
That's all I really have for now. I just needed to vent, and I wanted to tell you all about the box of Jesus nick-knacks that is sitting by the door, waiting to be thrown out.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Monday, February 26th
This place is getting absolutely ridiculous. I don't really know how to transcribe it in a way that you would understand without actually being here with me. I hope that I can put this across in a way that you can all sympathize.
Yesterday, I didn't have to work, so I spent some time talking to my aunt. She is seriously suicidal and I do believe that she's going to try again and succeed. My aunt didn't eat 30 muscle relaxers - she ate 60 of them. She told me that she did it to try to stop her heart, but it didn't work (obviously) and she ended up puking for a week instead. She cried to me and told me that she did it because her life is worthless - her husband and her daughter both hate her. She brought it all upon herself, but whatever.
My uncle pulled me aside this morning to talk to me a little bit about the letter their daughter mailed him. He said he feels like he's in a difficult position because he wants to have Sugar Daddy put in jail for some of the things he's done, but he knows it'll leave his household in shambles. It's true - my aunt will make his life a living hell if he does that. I still don't know what the letter said...but obviously Sugar Daddy did something bad. My uncle said he's probably gonna let me read it so that I can help him decide what to do.
The Lapdog is over again tonight, and he and my aunt had an argument that ended with her screaming, "If I want to end my own life, I will. Nobody is going to control my life!"
What a fucking nightmare.
Yesterday, I didn't have to work, so I spent some time talking to my aunt. She is seriously suicidal and I do believe that she's going to try again and succeed. My aunt didn't eat 30 muscle relaxers - she ate 60 of them. She told me that she did it to try to stop her heart, but it didn't work (obviously) and she ended up puking for a week instead. She cried to me and told me that she did it because her life is worthless - her husband and her daughter both hate her. She brought it all upon herself, but whatever.
My uncle pulled me aside this morning to talk to me a little bit about the letter their daughter mailed him. He said he feels like he's in a difficult position because he wants to have Sugar Daddy put in jail for some of the things he's done, but he knows it'll leave his household in shambles. It's true - my aunt will make his life a living hell if he does that. I still don't know what the letter said...but obviously Sugar Daddy did something bad. My uncle said he's probably gonna let me read it so that I can help him decide what to do.
The Lapdog is over again tonight, and he and my aunt had an argument that ended with her screaming, "If I want to end my own life, I will. Nobody is going to control my life!"
What a fucking nightmare.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Saturday, February 24th
I know I haven't given you guys anything for a while, and I'm sorry. There's only so much I can write about when my aunt's failed suicide attempt left her puking for weeks on end. My uncle really should have taken her to get her stomach pumped, but she's alive now so whatever. Yes, my uncle told me that my aunt did in fact take 30 muscle relaxers with the deliberate intention of ending her life. After we got the notice from the post office about the registered letter, my aunt kind of lost it. My cousin told my uncle that she never wants to come home because she's not speaking to my aunt ever again. This poor girl is 13 years old!
My uncle talked to my cousin for a few hours earlier this week, and she spent the entire conversation bawling her eyes out. She told him that she hates her mom, and that the registered letter at the post office isn't court papers for her custody, but a letter she wrote to him, telling him everything she's been keeping from him about her mom. She had it sent through registered mail so that he would have to sign for it, and there would be no chance of her mom ever reading it. The letter even told him about her mom's affair with Sugar Daddy.
Now, I know what you're thinking. "How could he not know about the affairs?"
My guess is that he does, but is in denial about it because a big part of him still loves her...despite how she treats him.
In other news, the refrigerator is still as interesting to come home to as ever. Sometimes I like to add something to it or move something around just to see how quickly he fixes it. He's become more punctual about how the fridge should be arranged. I came home a few nights ago to find the (fake) milk cartons not only arranged by size, but alphabetically also. For example, I had my large carton of chocolate soy milk, small carton of vanilla soy milk, a small bottle of vanilla coffee creamer, a small bottle of chai coffee creamer, and my aunt had a large carton of Lactaid. My uncle, once again, had them lined up on the middle of the shelf, and arranged like so: large 'Silk', large 'Lactaid', small 'Silk', chai creamer, vanilla creamer.
When I came home a few nights ago, my aunt was sleeping on the recliner in our living room and wearing a pair of my tube socks. Now, okay...if your feet are cold and you don't feel like getting off your lazy, drunk, unemployed ass to do some laundry and want to go into my room and take a pair of my not cheap socks to wear, that's fine. But wear some fucking slippers or something! They looked like she went for a shoe-less stroll through the neighborhood in them! I mean, the bottoms were black. I can't imagine the hell she would have raised with me if I had done that to her.
Last but not least, last weekend I went to get some Italian food and brought it home to eat. Eggplant parmigiana. Yum! So, I can hear in my head exactly what my uncle is going to say when I get home. "What'd you get me? Oh...none for me? Hahaha just kidding, sweetie. So what did you get? Oh, that looks good! Where'd you get it?" Yes...I know my uncle very well. He pries. A lot. And he talks to me in a little kindergarten teacher voice like I'm a baby. (example: "Awww are you all cozy with your blankie?" when I'm watching movies in the living room)
So I come into the kitchen, and my uncle says exactly what I thought he'd say. As if that weren't already bad enough (hello, I'm trying to eat! Quit asking me questions, kthx!), The Lapdog (who was visiting for the bazillionth time this week) comes into the kitchen, and he and my uncle proceed to begin a conversation about how the neighbors, who run a daycare center from their house, always overfill their trash bins with diapers, and so every time the trash gets picked up, my uncle has to go outside and pick up all these shitty, smelly diapers from in front of our house. I thought I was going to puke. I quietly got up, covered my food, put it in the fridge, and slammed the fridge door shut.
Alphabetize that!
My uncle talked to my cousin for a few hours earlier this week, and she spent the entire conversation bawling her eyes out. She told him that she hates her mom, and that the registered letter at the post office isn't court papers for her custody, but a letter she wrote to him, telling him everything she's been keeping from him about her mom. She had it sent through registered mail so that he would have to sign for it, and there would be no chance of her mom ever reading it. The letter even told him about her mom's affair with Sugar Daddy.
Now, I know what you're thinking. "How could he not know about the affairs?"
My guess is that he does, but is in denial about it because a big part of him still loves her...despite how she treats him.
In other news, the refrigerator is still as interesting to come home to as ever. Sometimes I like to add something to it or move something around just to see how quickly he fixes it. He's become more punctual about how the fridge should be arranged. I came home a few nights ago to find the (fake) milk cartons not only arranged by size, but alphabetically also. For example, I had my large carton of chocolate soy milk, small carton of vanilla soy milk, a small bottle of vanilla coffee creamer, a small bottle of chai coffee creamer, and my aunt had a large carton of Lactaid. My uncle, once again, had them lined up on the middle of the shelf, and arranged like so: large 'Silk', large 'Lactaid', small 'Silk', chai creamer, vanilla creamer.
When I came home a few nights ago, my aunt was sleeping on the recliner in our living room and wearing a pair of my tube socks. Now, okay...if your feet are cold and you don't feel like getting off your lazy, drunk, unemployed ass to do some laundry and want to go into my room and take a pair of my not cheap socks to wear, that's fine. But wear some fucking slippers or something! They looked like she went for a shoe-less stroll through the neighborhood in them! I mean, the bottoms were black. I can't imagine the hell she would have raised with me if I had done that to her.
Last but not least, last weekend I went to get some Italian food and brought it home to eat. Eggplant parmigiana. Yum! So, I can hear in my head exactly what my uncle is going to say when I get home. "What'd you get me? Oh...none for me? Hahaha just kidding, sweetie. So what did you get? Oh, that looks good! Where'd you get it?" Yes...I know my uncle very well. He pries. A lot. And he talks to me in a little kindergarten teacher voice like I'm a baby. (example: "Awww are you all cozy with your blankie?" when I'm watching movies in the living room)
So I come into the kitchen, and my uncle says exactly what I thought he'd say. As if that weren't already bad enough (hello, I'm trying to eat! Quit asking me questions, kthx!), The Lapdog (who was visiting for the bazillionth time this week) comes into the kitchen, and he and my uncle proceed to begin a conversation about how the neighbors, who run a daycare center from their house, always overfill their trash bins with diapers, and so every time the trash gets picked up, my uncle has to go outside and pick up all these shitty, smelly diapers from in front of our house. I thought I was going to puke. I quietly got up, covered my food, put it in the fridge, and slammed the fridge door shut.
Alphabetize that!
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