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!
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Thursday, February 15th
I've been staying away from home as much as possible. My aunt isn't as sick anymore as she was, but she still drives me crazy. The Lapdog finally left this morning, after being over since Monday. When he left, he said he'd see me this weekend. What the hell, man? I swear he thinks he lives here. He also drank Sugar Daddy's entire bottle of scotch that he keeps at our house. All this time, we thought it was my aunt drinking it. Apparently we were wrong.
My uncle thinks I use too much coffee. I buy all the coffee we use, and I still get told that I use too much. I told him last week that I'd just start buying a darker roast so that I don't use as much, and he acts like it was his idea. This week, any time he caught me in the kitchen, he'd say, "You know, sweetie, you should buy a darker roast so that you use less grounds. I know you like your coffee really strong, so I'm just trying to help." It literally makes me want to rip my hair out.
When I came home last night, there were a dozen roses on the kitchen table for my aunt. They were really pretty, so I wanted to ask her which one of her boyfriends bought them for her...but I didn't think she'd appreciate that too much.
Oh! I almost forgot! Before my aunt got sick, she had The Lapdog over one night, and she was pretty drunk (as always). Anyways, she and The Lapdog got into a discussion about her daughter (the one in Arizona) and this whole custody battle thing. My aunt got all belligerent and started screaming, "I don't want that kid anymore! She can stay there! I don't care if I ever see her again - I don't want that kid!"
Yarly.
I mean, there are a lot of reasons why I'm unsure if I ever want to have kids. One of these reasons is because I don't know that I could be a good parent, and I don't want my kids to be all screwed up as a result of that. So, why is it that people like my aunt can get married, have a kid, screw half of LA, and then get all mad because somebody is taking away her "victim" status? All of this bullshit is because my cousin told her aunt and uncle that her mom cheats on her dad. Now, because her daughter told somebody about that, she thinks she can just get rid of her?? Heh, wow. Anyways, sorry this was so scattered and unorganized.
My uncle thinks I use too much coffee. I buy all the coffee we use, and I still get told that I use too much. I told him last week that I'd just start buying a darker roast so that I don't use as much, and he acts like it was his idea. This week, any time he caught me in the kitchen, he'd say, "You know, sweetie, you should buy a darker roast so that you use less grounds. I know you like your coffee really strong, so I'm just trying to help." It literally makes me want to rip my hair out.
When I came home last night, there were a dozen roses on the kitchen table for my aunt. They were really pretty, so I wanted to ask her which one of her boyfriends bought them for her...but I didn't think she'd appreciate that too much.
Oh! I almost forgot! Before my aunt got sick, she had The Lapdog over one night, and she was pretty drunk (as always). Anyways, she and The Lapdog got into a discussion about her daughter (the one in Arizona) and this whole custody battle thing. My aunt got all belligerent and started screaming, "I don't want that kid anymore! She can stay there! I don't care if I ever see her again - I don't want that kid!"
Yarly.
I mean, there are a lot of reasons why I'm unsure if I ever want to have kids. One of these reasons is because I don't know that I could be a good parent, and I don't want my kids to be all screwed up as a result of that. So, why is it that people like my aunt can get married, have a kid, screw half of LA, and then get all mad because somebody is taking away her "victim" status? All of this bullshit is because my cousin told her aunt and uncle that her mom cheats on her dad. Now, because her daughter told somebody about that, she thinks she can just get rid of her?? Heh, wow. Anyways, sorry this was so scattered and unorganized.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Monday, February 12th
My aunt finally stopped puking today. She has been throwing up for a week. Naturally, I assumed that it was the usual alcohol withdrawals she has after a weekend of partying with The Lapdog. In other words, she drank 6 bottles of brandy over a span of three days. A-fucking-mazing. So you can imagine my shock when my uncle told me that she wasn't sick from drinking, but had in fact admitted to him that she took approximately 30 of her muscle relaxers at once on Tuesday night.
Orly?
Toldja she'd take all those pills by the middle of the week!!
Oops...maybe that's a tad...inappropriate of me.
I don't know how she managed to like, not die. She spent a week puking, and now she can barely talk because her throat is burned raw from stomach acid.
Anyways, now that I have gotten that out in the open, I can resume my regularly scheduled blogging.
Orly?
Toldja she'd take all those pills by the middle of the week!!
Oops...maybe that's a tad...inappropriate of me.
I don't know how she managed to like, not die. She spent a week puking, and now she can barely talk because her throat is burned raw from stomach acid.
Anyways, now that I have gotten that out in the open, I can resume my regularly scheduled blogging.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Things My Uncle Taught Me
If you plant a branch from a lemon tree into your lawn, it will miraculously grow roots and become a tree.
We had a dead branch sticking out of the ground in our front lawn for over a month before my uncle finally accepted the fact that it was never going to happen.
We had a dead branch sticking out of the ground in our front lawn for over a month before my uncle finally accepted the fact that it was never going to happen.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Tuesday, February 6th
When I got home from work last night, I found a notice on our kitchen counter from the post office that says we have a letter that needs to be signed for, and somebody needs to go down there to pick it up. The sender is my aunt's brother (the brother that her daughter is living with in Arizona). It's pretty obvious at this point that my aunt's brother is really trying to get custody of my cousin. My aunt and uncle aren't being served though, because the letter is from my aunt's brother - not the court. I don't know what's going on. All I know is that nobody is going to sign for it. My 3 1/2 hours of sleep last night were disturbed by my aunt yelling at my uncle, "If we sign for that letter, we're probably going to lose custody of her!"
This doesn't look good.
This doesn't look good.
Monday, February 5, 2007
Monday, February 5th
I hope you don't think I'm becoming crazy. I don't know - maybe I am. Well, first, here's what happened.
I have a daily routine. Except on weekends - I have no weekend routine besides sleeping all day. Anyways, my routine is this: My alarm goes off at 9am, and I hit the snooze button until around 10:30am. Then, I get up, drag myself to the kitchen, and make 2 cups of coffee that could be mistaken for tar. While the coffee is brewing, I go back to my room where I decide what I'm going to wear to work. Once I have my clothes picked out, I pour myself a cup of coffee, do my make-up (except for around my mouth), straighten my hair, pour and drink the second cup of coffee, get dressed, brush my teeth, finish my make-up, and then I leave.
I do not typically stray from this routine unless I hit the snooze button for longer than an hour and a half. If I do, then I usually opt for no make-up versus crazy hair.
Anyways, this morning, everything was going great. I was drinking my first cup of coffee while I was in my room straightening my hair...and when my coffee ran out, I went to the kitchen to pour myself my second and last cup of the morning...when I saw my aunt standing at the coffee maker, with a mug in her hand.
No way. You did not just pour yourself my other cup of coffee. No fucking way.
Yarly she did.
I stood in the entryway, watching her sip the coffee, when she turned to me and exclaimed, "I drank your last cup of coffee! Did you want it? I'm sorry."
No dude. I made the extra cup because I had no intention of drinking it, and just felt like wasting it? I look at her and blink.
"You make great coffee! It's so much better than that dishwater (my uncle's name) makes; you make real coffee!"
I blink again, still looking at the mug in her hand.
"Could you make a full pot of it? I think I want some coffee today! Here, do you want the rest of this cup? I only had a little bit of it."
I stand there looking at her, then at the coffeemaker, then at the clock, where I see that I need to leave for work in 20 minutes and don't really have time to make her a pot of coffee, let alone to have a cup from the new pot once it's done brewing. Now what do I do? Drink the cup that her nasty, who-knows-where-it's-been mouth has already made contact with, or have no more coffee at all?
She leaves the kitchen, and sits on the recliner in the living room where I can hear her slurping my cup of coffee. I can't believe this. I can't believe you had to drink my other cup of coffee. Couldn't you have like, asked me to make some extra when I first made it? Or perhaps...let me have my own last cup, but ask me to make some for you? No. You had to wait until it was too late for me to make more for myself to decide that coffee sounded good.
Yes, I like my coffee. Actually, I love my coffee. I'm like Milton with his red stapler when it comes to my coffee. This morning....sucked.
I have a daily routine. Except on weekends - I have no weekend routine besides sleeping all day. Anyways, my routine is this: My alarm goes off at 9am, and I hit the snooze button until around 10:30am. Then, I get up, drag myself to the kitchen, and make 2 cups of coffee that could be mistaken for tar. While the coffee is brewing, I go back to my room where I decide what I'm going to wear to work. Once I have my clothes picked out, I pour myself a cup of coffee, do my make-up (except for around my mouth), straighten my hair, pour and drink the second cup of coffee, get dressed, brush my teeth, finish my make-up, and then I leave.
I do not typically stray from this routine unless I hit the snooze button for longer than an hour and a half. If I do, then I usually opt for no make-up versus crazy hair.
Anyways, this morning, everything was going great. I was drinking my first cup of coffee while I was in my room straightening my hair...and when my coffee ran out, I went to the kitchen to pour myself my second and last cup of the morning...when I saw my aunt standing at the coffee maker, with a mug in her hand.
No way. You did not just pour yourself my other cup of coffee. No fucking way.
Yarly she did.
I stood in the entryway, watching her sip the coffee, when she turned to me and exclaimed, "I drank your last cup of coffee! Did you want it? I'm sorry."
No dude. I made the extra cup because I had no intention of drinking it, and just felt like wasting it? I look at her and blink.
"You make great coffee! It's so much better than that dishwater (my uncle's name) makes; you make real coffee!"
I blink again, still looking at the mug in her hand.
"Could you make a full pot of it? I think I want some coffee today! Here, do you want the rest of this cup? I only had a little bit of it."
I stand there looking at her, then at the coffeemaker, then at the clock, where I see that I need to leave for work in 20 minutes and don't really have time to make her a pot of coffee, let alone to have a cup from the new pot once it's done brewing. Now what do I do? Drink the cup that her nasty, who-knows-where-it's-been mouth has already made contact with, or have no more coffee at all?
She leaves the kitchen, and sits on the recliner in the living room where I can hear her slurping my cup of coffee. I can't believe this. I can't believe you had to drink my other cup of coffee. Couldn't you have like, asked me to make some extra when I first made it? Or perhaps...let me have my own last cup, but ask me to make some for you? No. You had to wait until it was too late for me to make more for myself to decide that coffee sounded good.
Yes, I like my coffee. Actually, I love my coffee. I'm like Milton with his red stapler when it comes to my coffee. This morning....sucked.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Sunday, February 4th
Tonight was ridiculous. My aunt's sugar daddy takes her to Costa Rica for 2 weeks every year, and they were supposed to leave last night. Supposed to. Sugar Daddy went, but without my aunt. Instead, he took some other girl because my aunt threw a conniption fit when she found out that he booked a different airline than she's used to taking, and she refused to go. Are you kidding me?? A free trip to Costa Rica...and you won't go because you don't like the airline?
Wow.
So last night, Sugar Daddy flew to Costa Rica with some other girl, and my aunt was crying all night about it. Basically, she thought that he would change the airline at the last minute when he realized how adamant she was about not going, and when he didn't, it became "Woe is me - I'm not going to Costa Rica!"
You've got to be kidding me...
Wow.
So last night, Sugar Daddy flew to Costa Rica with some other girl, and my aunt was crying all night about it. Basically, she thought that he would change the airline at the last minute when he realized how adamant she was about not going, and when he didn't, it became "Woe is me - I'm not going to Costa Rica!"
You've got to be kidding me...
Saturday, February 3, 2007
Saturday, February 3rd
Today was supposed to be day one of my first weekend off all year, and I got woken up at 5am by my aunt and uncle fighting. Apparently, my aunt decided to feed the cat, left the food bowl on the floor, and the dogs ate the cat food...which pissed off my uncle, and my aunt couldn't believe how quickly the dogs were able to do it all. Then, because I got woken up, I had to pee (of course). So I got up, went to the restroom, and spent a half hour trying to fall back asleep. I finally just took a sleep aid because I got sick of waiting to pass out. So not cool.
Right now I'm going through one of these phases where, no matter how tired I am, I can't fall asleep on my own. I think I just have too much on my mind. And the psychos are too loud.
Right now I'm going through one of these phases where, no matter how tired I am, I can't fall asleep on my own. I think I just have too much on my mind. And the psychos are too loud.
Friday, February 2, 2007
Friday, February 2nd
Last night, I came home to find all of my beverages in the refrigerator rearranged by height. Now stay with me here while I draw out this picture for you! Typically, I don't buy beverages - I just drink water. However, after I got back from Arizona, I started craving soy milk. Anyways, I bought a quart of vanilla soy milk, and a half gallon of chocolate soy milk, plus I had a small bottle of liquid coffee creamer. I came home last night to find these 3 bottles/cartons arranged in a straight line (coming towards me), in order of height, on the middle of the shelf. Then there were the sandwiches. There was one sandwich placed neatly on each side of my soy milk cartons, and my chow mein from a couple of nights ago was sitting next to one of the sandwiches, with a container of rice pudding on the side of the sandwich that was on the opposite side. In other words, the refrigerator was rearranged so that all of its contents were symmetrical. It was the oddest display I have ever seen in my life. To be honest, I'm not sure who's more crazy - my uncle for doing the arranging, or me for taking such notice and explaining it in a blog in so much detail.
A couple of days ago, my aunt got a refill on her painkiller prescription. This is a prescription that she's supposed to get filled once a month, but the bottle is typically gone in less than 2 weeks. Right now, it's 1/3 of the way gone. I'm guessing it will be completely gone by the middle of next week.
Can I get a few of those? I think I have a headache. You would, too if you were me.
A couple of days ago, my aunt got a refill on her painkiller prescription. This is a prescription that she's supposed to get filled once a month, but the bottle is typically gone in less than 2 weeks. Right now, it's 1/3 of the way gone. I'm guessing it will be completely gone by the middle of next week.
Can I get a few of those? I think I have a headache. You would, too if you were me.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Thursday, February 1st
I feel like I'm losing it. My mind, that is. I hope insanity isn't contagious. When I was little, there was this lady who lived near me that was a nurse at a mental hospital (is that politically correct?). Me, my mom, and my brother used to sit out in front of our house and watch this woman drive in circles around the street, and then park her car and beat her own head against the steering wheel. My mom told us that when you are around crazy people all the time, you start to become crazy, too.
All my aunt can talk about is how Bam Margera is getting married, and how awesome it is that he found such a nice girl, and, oh my gosh, can you believe that she's normal?
She herself told me that she wanted a picture of her hair posted somewhere on the internet for the entire world to see. I took the liberty of hiding her eyes. It's better this way. If insanity can be spread by being looked at by a crazy person, then you all owe me. Big time.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Wednesday, January 31st
Apparently, my cousin is never allowed to come home. Not only that, but my aunt isn't talking to her "ever again."
"I don't care if you think I'm wrong, and I don't care if God himself tells me that I'm making a mistake - I'm sticking to my decision."
Whew....ok. Remind me never to piss you off.
It was, however, amusing to watch my aunt nodding off on the sofa last night. She was sitting upright, and started slowly leaning forward until her head was finally between her knees and she fell completely asleep that way. That's all I really have to write about today.
"I don't care if you think I'm wrong, and I don't care if God himself tells me that I'm making a mistake - I'm sticking to my decision."
Whew....ok. Remind me never to piss you off.
It was, however, amusing to watch my aunt nodding off on the sofa last night. She was sitting upright, and started slowly leaning forward until her head was finally between her knees and she fell completely asleep that way. That's all I really have to write about today.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Tuesday, January 30th
Since I've been going out and spending more time away from my house, I've been much happier. Letting all my aggression out into this blog is helping too. Last night I went out with a friend, so I wasn't home long enough to witness anything too interesting. I do, however, have a tidbit for you.
My aunt's daughter (ok, my cousin) lives in Arizona with her aunt and uncle for school. My aunt decided that she didn't want her daughter going to school in the ghetto (didn't want to deal with her own daughter) and has shipped her off to live with 3 different family members in the 1 1/2 years that I've been staying with them. That's a story that I'll save for another flashback. Anyways, she's 13 years old and she's a total miniature punk rocker. Apparently, she decided that she wanted to cut off all of her hair a couple of weeks ago (as you already know) and didn't ask her mom first. Ok here's the deal.
She told her aunt that she wanted to get a hair cut, and her aunt said ok. My cousin then said, "Well I need to ask my mom first," and her aunt said, "No you don't. You live with us."
Uh-ohhh....
So my cousin cuts all of her hair off without talking to her parents first, and my aunt retaliates by shaving her head (oh, how grown up of you).
The part that I just found out is that my aunt has now completely written off her own daughter. The girl is 13 and rebelling a little bit, and instead of trying to work through it, my aunt quits talking to her and won't let her come home this summer. Wow.
Pretty soon this is gonna get really ugly, because my aunt's brother (the uncle that my cousin is staying with) and his wife are going to try to have my cousin taken away, and get full custody of her. Yeah. All hell is going to break loose.
My aunt's daughter (ok, my cousin) lives in Arizona with her aunt and uncle for school. My aunt decided that she didn't want her daughter going to school in the ghetto (didn't want to deal with her own daughter) and has shipped her off to live with 3 different family members in the 1 1/2 years that I've been staying with them. That's a story that I'll save for another flashback. Anyways, she's 13 years old and she's a total miniature punk rocker. Apparently, she decided that she wanted to cut off all of her hair a couple of weeks ago (as you already know) and didn't ask her mom first. Ok here's the deal.
She told her aunt that she wanted to get a hair cut, and her aunt said ok. My cousin then said, "Well I need to ask my mom first," and her aunt said, "No you don't. You live with us."
Uh-ohhh....
So my cousin cuts all of her hair off without talking to her parents first, and my aunt retaliates by shaving her head (oh, how grown up of you).
The part that I just found out is that my aunt has now completely written off her own daughter. The girl is 13 and rebelling a little bit, and instead of trying to work through it, my aunt quits talking to her and won't let her come home this summer. Wow.
Pretty soon this is gonna get really ugly, because my aunt's brother (the uncle that my cousin is staying with) and his wife are going to try to have my cousin taken away, and get full custody of her. Yeah. All hell is going to break loose.
Flashback
My mom came to visit me for Thanksgiving last year even though she swore that she would never stay the night at my house again after what happened the year before. She must really, really love me to do that. One night, she and I were sitting on the porch swing talking to each other while our front door was open. Because we live in the ghetto, of course we have a locking security screen door also, so that was closed. Anyways, my mom and I are sitting outside talking, when a man from the apartment building next door to our house pulls up across the street to park. He was driving a huge Cadillac and was trying to fit it into a pretty tight spot. While my mom and I talked, I watched his efforts curiously because I myself cannot parallel park to save my life.
Apparently, my aunt (who was drunk) was watching him from inside the house while she was lying on the sofa, and decided to make a big deal out of it to The Lapdog who was at our house visiting at the time. "Oh my god, are you serious?? Are you kidding me?? This guy cannot parallel park and he's hitting all of the parked cars!!" (He really wasn't.) At this point, she gets up off the sofa (it's a miracle!) and stands in front of the screen door, yelling loud enough for this guy to hear her.
I just look at my mom. She looks at me. We're both helpless, and we're the ones sitting outside.
My aunt, being the whatever-she-is that she is, of course has to start yelling even louder once the guy is finished parking and gets out of his car. This man, mind you, did nothing wrong! My aunt starts going at it again, "I can't believe this guy! He can't park for shit! Is he drunk?? This guy is drunk - I can't fucking believe it!!"
Oh my god. Hide me. Mom, hide me! If you loved me, you'd hide me!
The guy responds, "Excuse me? What did you say? I'm not drunk. You try parking my car! And the minivan in front of it belongs to me, too! I can hit my own car's bumper while I'm parking if I want to!"
The man is right.
To The Lapdog: "Oh my god, I can't believe this guy is drunk! You've got to see this!!"
Thank God this man was a better person than me and just went into his apartment building. I was so embarrassed. I hope he saw my aunt standing at the screen and didn't assume that my mom and I were the ones getting in his business. My aunt should be muzzled after 5pm.
Apparently, my aunt (who was drunk) was watching him from inside the house while she was lying on the sofa, and decided to make a big deal out of it to The Lapdog who was at our house visiting at the time. "Oh my god, are you serious?? Are you kidding me?? This guy cannot parallel park and he's hitting all of the parked cars!!" (He really wasn't.) At this point, she gets up off the sofa (it's a miracle!) and stands in front of the screen door, yelling loud enough for this guy to hear her.
I just look at my mom. She looks at me. We're both helpless, and we're the ones sitting outside.
My aunt, being the whatever-she-is that she is, of course has to start yelling even louder once the guy is finished parking and gets out of his car. This man, mind you, did nothing wrong! My aunt starts going at it again, "I can't believe this guy! He can't park for shit! Is he drunk?? This guy is drunk - I can't fucking believe it!!"
Oh my god. Hide me. Mom, hide me! If you loved me, you'd hide me!
The guy responds, "Excuse me? What did you say? I'm not drunk. You try parking my car! And the minivan in front of it belongs to me, too! I can hit my own car's bumper while I'm parking if I want to!"
The man is right.
To The Lapdog: "Oh my god, I can't believe this guy is drunk! You've got to see this!!"
Thank God this man was a better person than me and just went into his apartment building. I was so embarrassed. I hope he saw my aunt standing at the screen and didn't assume that my mom and I were the ones getting in his business. My aunt should be muzzled after 5pm.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Sunday, January 28th
Aside from being a drug-addicted drunk, my aunt is also a whore. No, I'm serious. I know, I know, that sounds harsh...but she really is a whore. So anyways, not only does she have her main sugar daddy, she also has boyfriends. Yesterday her sugar daddy was over, and he and I always talk while he's there. We don't see each other much, and he really is an awesome guy. I don't support that fact that my aunt is a whore, but this man really takes care of the family. So he and I were talking in private and he says to me, "I don't know how the fuck you can live here. Everyone in this house is fucking CRAZY - out of their minds, cuckoo, not okay in the head, fucking insane." This is where I just nod, and don't say anything. Crazy people can probably hear your thoughts too.
My aunt told me to rub her head for good luck yesterday. Like it was a Buddha belly or something. Looking at it kinda grossed me out, but I didn't want to be a bitch. So I rubbed her head. I'm still smiling and nodding when she asks me if it looks okay. I really don't know what to tell her. I did, however, find out why she did it. Her daughter who lives in Arizona right now apparently cut off all of her hair, which used to be really long. Now she has sort of a reverse bob. Since she never called her mom and asked permission to do that, my aunt decided to shave her head as "retaliation/silent protest." Sure. Whatever.
Yesterday, my uncle sat on the floor in front of the fridge eating leftover ham. Then when he was done, he threw the ham bone on our hardwood floors and let our dogs drag it around, picking the meat off of it. All I could do was sit there and watch them smear nasty ham grease all over the floor. I mean, all over the floor. I thought I was gonna puke.
My aunt told me to rub her head for good luck yesterday. Like it was a Buddha belly or something. Looking at it kinda grossed me out, but I didn't want to be a bitch. So I rubbed her head. I'm still smiling and nodding when she asks me if it looks okay. I really don't know what to tell her. I did, however, find out why she did it. Her daughter who lives in Arizona right now apparently cut off all of her hair, which used to be really long. Now she has sort of a reverse bob. Since she never called her mom and asked permission to do that, my aunt decided to shave her head as "retaliation/silent protest." Sure. Whatever.
Yesterday, my uncle sat on the floor in front of the fridge eating leftover ham. Then when he was done, he threw the ham bone on our hardwood floors and let our dogs drag it around, picking the meat off of it. All I could do was sit there and watch them smear nasty ham grease all over the floor. I mean, all over the floor. I thought I was gonna puke.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Saturday, January 27th
Nothing worth writing about happened yesterday. Well actually, I wasn't really home yesterday...so maybe something did happen, but I wasn't there. I decided that on days where I have nothing new to write about, I'll tell you a story about something that happened a while back. From now on, these entries will just say Flashback.
In October or November of last year, my aunt was supposed to be leaving for a fishing trip in another state. See, everyone in my house knows that because she drinks so much, pops so many pills, and doesn't have a job, she doesn't exactly need to follow any sort of sleep routine. Therefore, she typically sleeps all day and is awake all night. When she knows ahead of time that she needs to be in a certain place in the morning, she flips out and drinks a little extra brandy (and takes a few extra muscle relaxers) so that she passes out earlier and can wake up in the morning. This has led to many, many problems.
So now, back to the story at hand. It's October or November, and she has to be at the airport in the morning to catch her flight. She passes out for the night, completely wasted, at around 10pm. I'm sound asleep in my room when I'm woken up by the sound of somebody screaming my name. At first I thought I was dreaming, but then I heard my aunt's voice screaming my uncle's name, too. I drag myself out of bed and walk into the living room where I find my aunt laying on her stomach, and her face is sitting in a puddle of blood.
The End.
Ok, ok just kidding. So, my aunt is laying there with her blood all over the hardwood floors (oh my god, that's gonna leave a stain!) and is looking up at me helplessly. I help her to her feet and notice that she has not only completely busted open her chin...but there's like, meat hanging down. Sorry for that visual, but as you can imagine, it was pretty grotesque. As always, I got to play doctor and clean and bandage her wound. She really should have gotten stitches, but she knew she'd be at the hospital all night and wanted to sleep instead. (Plus, she didn't want to hear the lecture from the doctor about how it would have bled a lot less if she didn't have so much alcohol in her system, and that maybe she should get some help with her addictions....but she didn't say that, of course.)
She did, however, tell me that what had happened was that she was sleeping (passed out) on the sofa, and got up to use the bathroom, but tripped over the dog.
Judging by the fact that the dog was sleeping on the sofa...and the coffee table was very, very crooked, it didn't take a genius to figure out that she woke up to use the bathroom and fell over the coffee table. My uncle and I played stupid though and didn't say anything to her.
Since this happened, I've gotten yelled at by my aunt any time I've left a chair at the table pushed out a little bit. "I could hurt myself!" she screams. Maybe my uncle and I should invest in some edge & corner guards for the house. We can pretend like there's a baby...but without the smelly diapers.
In October or November of last year, my aunt was supposed to be leaving for a fishing trip in another state. See, everyone in my house knows that because she drinks so much, pops so many pills, and doesn't have a job, she doesn't exactly need to follow any sort of sleep routine. Therefore, she typically sleeps all day and is awake all night. When she knows ahead of time that she needs to be in a certain place in the morning, she flips out and drinks a little extra brandy (and takes a few extra muscle relaxers) so that she passes out earlier and can wake up in the morning. This has led to many, many problems.
So now, back to the story at hand. It's October or November, and she has to be at the airport in the morning to catch her flight. She passes out for the night, completely wasted, at around 10pm. I'm sound asleep in my room when I'm woken up by the sound of somebody screaming my name. At first I thought I was dreaming, but then I heard my aunt's voice screaming my uncle's name, too. I drag myself out of bed and walk into the living room where I find my aunt laying on her stomach, and her face is sitting in a puddle of blood.
The End.
Ok, ok just kidding. So, my aunt is laying there with her blood all over the hardwood floors (oh my god, that's gonna leave a stain!) and is looking up at me helplessly. I help her to her feet and notice that she has not only completely busted open her chin...but there's like, meat hanging down. Sorry for that visual, but as you can imagine, it was pretty grotesque. As always, I got to play doctor and clean and bandage her wound. She really should have gotten stitches, but she knew she'd be at the hospital all night and wanted to sleep instead. (Plus, she didn't want to hear the lecture from the doctor about how it would have bled a lot less if she didn't have so much alcohol in her system, and that maybe she should get some help with her addictions....but she didn't say that, of course.)
She did, however, tell me that what had happened was that she was sleeping (passed out) on the sofa, and got up to use the bathroom, but tripped over the dog.
Judging by the fact that the dog was sleeping on the sofa...and the coffee table was very, very crooked, it didn't take a genius to figure out that she woke up to use the bathroom and fell over the coffee table. My uncle and I played stupid though and didn't say anything to her.
Since this happened, I've gotten yelled at by my aunt any time I've left a chair at the table pushed out a little bit. "I could hurt myself!" she screams. Maybe my uncle and I should invest in some edge & corner guards for the house. We can pretend like there's a baby...but without the smelly diapers.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Friday, January 26th
How hard is it to order a pizza? I mean really. Not hard, right? Well if you were at my house last night, you'd think it required a PhD. My aunt's friend was over (really, he's her lapdog) and he waits on her hand and foot. It's disgusting. So my aunt exclaims, "I want a burger! No! I want pizza!" Dude...it's 10pm on a Thursday night in the ghetto. "Yes, dear. You tell me what you'd like and I'll take care of it," he replies. I think I just threw up a little bit.
This is where it gets entertaining.
He calls this little local pizza place that we always order from. One of those places that has like, 2 different locations with dirt-cheap pizza and nobody speaks English when you call to order, but the pizza kicks ass. So he calls this place, and instead of somebody answering, he gets a fax machine. He tries again. Fax machine. Tries again. Fax machine. This goes on for about 10 minutes (no joke) before he decides to call Directory Assistance to ask them for the number. Why? I don't know. My uncle (being the stupi-visor that he is) takes the phone and tries dialing the number also. By this point, the fax machine wasn't answering anymore, but the phone was just ringing and ringing with no answer.
I think they're closed?
"No - they can't be closed! They must be out of business! Oh my god, I can't believe they went out of business! Their pizza was so good! How is that possible?!"
Me: sigh.
What now? Well, Pizza Hut of course! Out comes the phone book, my aunt's friend is flying through the yellow pages...."A-ha! Pizza Hut! But...which one?"
"Um, maybe the one in Inglewood?"
"But there's 2 in Inglewood!"
"Ok...so...maybe the one with the closest address?"
"Ah! Good point!"
I roll my eyes and go hide in the kitchen. This is driving me crazy to watch.
The first Pizza Hut doesn't deliver to our area. Neither does the second one. "Do any of them deliver here???" He calls the corporate office and files a complaint against both locations. "It's completely unacceptable that we can't order pizza from your company when we have cash in our hands and are ready to pay."
Now my drunk aunt is freaking out because she thinks the corporate office is going to take our pizza order and force somebody to deliver it (sigh) so she starts screaming - loud enough to be heard through the phone - "No, I don't want loogies! No loogie pizzas! Oh my god there's gonna be loogies! Oh my god there's gonna be loogies! LOOGIES!!!"
Finally he orders from Dominoes and is sure to tell both the poor girl who was unfortunate enough to answer the phone, and the unsuspecting delivery driver that had to bring the pizza to my pyschotic household the entire story about how the first place must have gone out of business, how Pizza Hut wouldn't deliver to us, and so now they have a new customer.
Oh. My. God.
This is where it gets entertaining.
He calls this little local pizza place that we always order from. One of those places that has like, 2 different locations with dirt-cheap pizza and nobody speaks English when you call to order, but the pizza kicks ass. So he calls this place, and instead of somebody answering, he gets a fax machine. He tries again. Fax machine. Tries again. Fax machine. This goes on for about 10 minutes (no joke) before he decides to call Directory Assistance to ask them for the number. Why? I don't know. My uncle (being the stupi-visor that he is) takes the phone and tries dialing the number also. By this point, the fax machine wasn't answering anymore, but the phone was just ringing and ringing with no answer.
I think they're closed?
"No - they can't be closed! They must be out of business! Oh my god, I can't believe they went out of business! Their pizza was so good! How is that possible?!"
Me: sigh.
What now? Well, Pizza Hut of course! Out comes the phone book, my aunt's friend is flying through the yellow pages...."A-ha! Pizza Hut! But...which one?"
"Um, maybe the one in Inglewood?"
"But there's 2 in Inglewood!"
"Ok...so...maybe the one with the closest address?"
"Ah! Good point!"
I roll my eyes and go hide in the kitchen. This is driving me crazy to watch.
The first Pizza Hut doesn't deliver to our area. Neither does the second one. "Do any of them deliver here???" He calls the corporate office and files a complaint against both locations. "It's completely unacceptable that we can't order pizza from your company when we have cash in our hands and are ready to pay."
Now my drunk aunt is freaking out because she thinks the corporate office is going to take our pizza order and force somebody to deliver it (sigh) so she starts screaming - loud enough to be heard through the phone - "No, I don't want loogies! No loogie pizzas! Oh my god there's gonna be loogies! Oh my god there's gonna be loogies! LOOGIES!!!"
Finally he orders from Dominoes and is sure to tell both the poor girl who was unfortunate enough to answer the phone, and the unsuspecting delivery driver that had to bring the pizza to my pyschotic household the entire story about how the first place must have gone out of business, how Pizza Hut wouldn't deliver to us, and so now they have a new customer.
Oh. My. God.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Thursday, January 25th PM
I was really dreading going home from work tonight. I knew I was gonna have to go home and kiss my aunt's ass...feeding her some crap like, "It doesn't look bad at all! Why did you do that, anyways?" Then she'd go into some lame excuse, and I'd have to pretend like I cared. It didn't end up being so bad, though. I came through the front door, looked at her for a second, and told her she looks like Susan Powter, then scurried away to the kitchen where I thought I'd be safe. Boy, did I think wrong. I was safe from my aunt, but my uncle was sitting there just waiting for some poor, unsuspecting soul to come around so that he could state the obvious and talk about how mad he is. Oh, I wish I had a tape recorder.
"She looks like a butch dike."
"I don't have a wife - I have a husband!"
And it only got worse from there. At one point, she heard him complaining and yelled, "I will not be controlled!"
His response? "Yes, sir..."
I'm beginning to really believe she has lost her mind. My uncle says so too.
"She looks like a butch dike."
"I don't have a wife - I have a husband!"
And it only got worse from there. At one point, she heard him complaining and yelled, "I will not be controlled!"
His response? "Yes, sir..."
I'm beginning to really believe she has lost her mind. My uncle says so too.
Thursday, January 25th
This is the first post of what promises to be a rather interesting documentation of my life in Inglewood, California. Yes, I live in the ghetto. Yes, I am white. No, it isn't always easy....but it usually is pretty amusing. Anyways, as if that weren't enough, I live with some family friends (I call them my aunt and uncle, even though they really aren't)...and I'm pretty sure the wife is psychotic. She's a falling-down drunk, and she manages to hurt herself as a result of over-indulging in some E&J at least every couple of months (but she's drunk every day). This was my friend's idea...and I must admit that it's brilliant. Anyways, I'm not going to disclose any names, and if I feel the need to use a name, it's going to be changed and will have an asterisk next to it. So, I'll start with what happened this morning!
It was 2am and I was sound asleep. Out of nowhere, my aunt bursts into my bedroom and exclaims, "I'm shaving my head! I'm not even kidding - I'm dead serious! I'm shaving my head right now!"
Orly?
To be honest, I didn't care. I mean, I've been living with this kind of madness for over a year now, and it takes a lot to shock me. Once my heart stopped racing from being woken up by somebody bursting into my room and yelling, I fell back asleep. All the while, I could hear the hair clippers buzzing in the bathroom.
When I woke up this morning, my aunt was passed out on the sofa, wearing a baseball cap. I would have thought she chickened out if it weren't for the fact that the bathroom wastebasket is full of her hair.
It was 2am and I was sound asleep. Out of nowhere, my aunt bursts into my bedroom and exclaims, "I'm shaving my head! I'm not even kidding - I'm dead serious! I'm shaving my head right now!"
Orly?
To be honest, I didn't care. I mean, I've been living with this kind of madness for over a year now, and it takes a lot to shock me. Once my heart stopped racing from being woken up by somebody bursting into my room and yelling, I fell back asleep. All the while, I could hear the hair clippers buzzing in the bathroom.
When I woke up this morning, my aunt was passed out on the sofa, wearing a baseball cap. I would have thought she chickened out if it weren't for the fact that the bathroom wastebasket is full of her hair.
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