I have a lot of other things I could write about, all of them far funnier or more interesting than this, but I am extremely annoyed at the moment and this is my damn blog, so I'm going to whine.
First of all, parents suck. All of them. All parents suck, at least to their own offspring. I can love my friend's parents, and they can love mine. But when it comes to the people who raised you, all you really want to do is set bits of their anatomy on fire.
As I've said before, it's really hard to live back at home after years of freedom. You have to adapt to the family dynamics, most of which have changed, and your parents have to come to terms with the fact that you're not the same person you were when you moved out. This is all natural, and all to be expected.
But this passive-aggressive manipulative bullshit is going to drive me into the looney bin where they serve soft food you can't hurt yourself on, and only pipe in the soothing sounds of Enya, lest you be gripped by a violent fit. You can't even read, because you might paper-cut your tongue in your mania. I'm rapidly heading down the road to this place.
I mean, I was gone all weekend visiting friends in the great city of Pittsburgh. I've been home since Monday night; how much anger can I inspire? A lot, apparently.
Study the following conversation:
Mom: What are you doing?
ElleVee: Reading.
M: Oh.
LV: Why? Do you need anything?
M: You don't have anything better to do than read?
LV: Like what?
M: Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.
Because you see, nobody can just tell me what they'd like me to do. I should just intrinsically know, by osmosis. Instead, I end up sitting there, bewildered, while my mom fumes about my inability to understand why she's angry. Then I get angry because she's angry. Then my brother sells my stuff to our neighbors (no joke), and I get yelled at for screaming at him.
Woo. Rage much? OK, next entry will be full of laughter and joy and pithy wisdom, and we'll all dance under a chocolate rainbow. Or something to that effect.
And Pittsburgh is awesome. Viva Pittsburgh. More on that next time, too.
- LV
PS If I do go crazy and start slaughtering people randomly, please don't mention this blog to the authorities, as it would probably not help my defense.
PPSS I'm kidding. HONEST. I'm kidding. Verbal violence is all I go in for.
First of all, parents suck. All of them. All parents suck, at least to their own offspring. I can love my friend's parents, and they can love mine. But when it comes to the people who raised you, all you really want to do is set bits of their anatomy on fire.
As I've said before, it's really hard to live back at home after years of freedom. You have to adapt to the family dynamics, most of which have changed, and your parents have to come to terms with the fact that you're not the same person you were when you moved out. This is all natural, and all to be expected.
But this passive-aggressive manipulative bullshit is going to drive me into the looney bin where they serve soft food you can't hurt yourself on, and only pipe in the soothing sounds of Enya, lest you be gripped by a violent fit. You can't even read, because you might paper-cut your tongue in your mania. I'm rapidly heading down the road to this place.
I mean, I was gone all weekend visiting friends in the great city of Pittsburgh. I've been home since Monday night; how much anger can I inspire? A lot, apparently.
Study the following conversation:
Mom: What are you doing?
ElleVee: Reading.
M: Oh.
LV: Why? Do you need anything?
M: You don't have anything better to do than read?
LV: Like what?
M: Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.
Because you see, nobody can just tell me what they'd like me to do. I should just intrinsically know, by osmosis. Instead, I end up sitting there, bewildered, while my mom fumes about my inability to understand why she's angry. Then I get angry because she's angry. Then my brother sells my stuff to our neighbors (no joke), and I get yelled at for screaming at him.
Woo. Rage much? OK, next entry will be full of laughter and joy and pithy wisdom, and we'll all dance under a chocolate rainbow. Or something to that effect.
And Pittsburgh is awesome. Viva Pittsburgh. More on that next time, too.
- LV
PS If I do go crazy and start slaughtering people randomly, please don't mention this blog to the authorities, as it would probably not help my defense.
PPSS I'm kidding. HONEST. I'm kidding. Verbal violence is all I go in for.
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