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.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
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.
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