See that kid in the icon?
Sep. 27th, 2007 06:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsosI'm going to smack him upside the head. Hard. Maybe with a two-by-four.
(Aw, don't make that face, he's twenty-one and six feet tall now.)
At about one this afternoon, I rolled out of bed thoroughly exhausted and about as lethargic as I usually am when I wake up and went into the bathroom, just in time for the phone to ring in the bedroom. So I run all the way across my obscenely large apartment and to the phone, and it turns out to be my dad, giving me an update on my mom. And he says some stuff about who's down there with them and blah blah yawn yawn and can I run up to the house and feed the cats? Okay, sure, whatever, YAWN.
So after a shower and some lunch I grab my laptop and head up to the house. Now, my brother told me yesterday that he couldn't go to Philly today because he didn't have the cash for gas money. Cut to this afternoon, when I show up at the house. His car is there, the back door is unlocked, there's a box of macaroni as if some Shaggy-looking idiot left his soon-to-be-dinner on the counter for a minute, his car keys and phone are in the living room, and his computer and stereo are on. But Bryan is mysteriously absent. This isn't exactly a shock -- he runs out to a buddy's house or the store a lot without closing up the house, and it's not like he'd need his car keys or phone for that, depending on where he went. But I figure, "Oh, Bryan's home, he can feed them," and left.
I drive down to Scranton, hit the library to pick up the books I put on hold, and when I come out discover that my dad called my cell again. So I call him back, only to find out that a.) I was supposed to pick them up garbage stickers (which we have to slap on our garbage bags or else the garbagemen won't take them), which I don't even remember being told about, and b.) Bryan is in Philly.
I repeat, my brother is in Philly. Three fucking hours away. It's not like he ran to the store or his friend's house or whatever, he hopped a ride with my cousin to the hospital and went halfway across the state without closing up the house.
What does this all mean? It means my dad expected me to skip going to Panera and go directly home to feed the cats.
Okay, you know what? Fuck THAT. I'm sorry, the cats are not starving, they can wait a half an hour for me to sit down, relax, have some soup in a bread bowl, play with my laptop, and be comfortable and content for fifteen fucking minutes. It's the first time I've had my damn laptop in complete working order for three whole months now, I've got two days of overtime this weekend, and I was going to have my nice little happy place if it fucking KILLED me.
And I already wasn't in a good mood as it was, because -- and I know my mom is having surgery on her neck, and I feel sorry for her and want her to feel better and I'm happy to help, BUT -- I'm seriously starting to feel like Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles. You know how much I've heard from my relatives regarding plans for my birthday that wasn't discussion instigated by me? None. Zip, zero, nada, nothing. My co-workers and friends list have shown more interest, honestly. And it's not like I'm looking for a big pink birthday cake and a huge party and a massive pile of presents and a day that's All. About. ME. I just feel like shit all the times these days, like a fucking afterthought (except when somebody needs something and oh, can you go *insert chore here* for me?), and the fact that nobody's mentioned a damn thing just ... *sigh*
I can't decide what's worse, that they might not be doing anything this year or that they might be throwing a surprise party for someone who loathes surprise parties.
Fuck it. I'm going to clean off my computer desk and see if I can manage to fit a desktop, the laptop and my printer all on the same surface. *cracks knuckles*
(Aw, don't make that face, he's twenty-one and six feet tall now.)
At about one this afternoon, I rolled out of bed thoroughly exhausted and about as lethargic as I usually am when I wake up and went into the bathroom, just in time for the phone to ring in the bedroom. So I run all the way across my obscenely large apartment and to the phone, and it turns out to be my dad, giving me an update on my mom. And he says some stuff about who's down there with them and blah blah yawn yawn and can I run up to the house and feed the cats? Okay, sure, whatever, YAWN.
So after a shower and some lunch I grab my laptop and head up to the house. Now, my brother told me yesterday that he couldn't go to Philly today because he didn't have the cash for gas money. Cut to this afternoon, when I show up at the house. His car is there, the back door is unlocked, there's a box of macaroni as if some Shaggy-looking idiot left his soon-to-be-dinner on the counter for a minute, his car keys and phone are in the living room, and his computer and stereo are on. But Bryan is mysteriously absent. This isn't exactly a shock -- he runs out to a buddy's house or the store a lot without closing up the house, and it's not like he'd need his car keys or phone for that, depending on where he went. But I figure, "Oh, Bryan's home, he can feed them," and left.
I drive down to Scranton, hit the library to pick up the books I put on hold, and when I come out discover that my dad called my cell again. So I call him back, only to find out that a.) I was supposed to pick them up garbage stickers (which we have to slap on our garbage bags or else the garbagemen won't take them), which I don't even remember being told about, and b.) Bryan is in Philly.
I repeat, my brother is in Philly. Three fucking hours away. It's not like he ran to the store or his friend's house or whatever, he hopped a ride with my cousin to the hospital and went halfway across the state without closing up the house.
What does this all mean? It means my dad expected me to skip going to Panera and go directly home to feed the cats.
Okay, you know what? Fuck THAT. I'm sorry, the cats are not starving, they can wait a half an hour for me to sit down, relax, have some soup in a bread bowl, play with my laptop, and be comfortable and content for fifteen fucking minutes. It's the first time I've had my damn laptop in complete working order for three whole months now, I've got two days of overtime this weekend, and I was going to have my nice little happy place if it fucking KILLED me.
And I already wasn't in a good mood as it was, because -- and I know my mom is having surgery on her neck, and I feel sorry for her and want her to feel better and I'm happy to help, BUT -- I'm seriously starting to feel like Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles. You know how much I've heard from my relatives regarding plans for my birthday that wasn't discussion instigated by me? None. Zip, zero, nada, nothing. My co-workers and friends list have shown more interest, honestly. And it's not like I'm looking for a big pink birthday cake and a huge party and a massive pile of presents and a day that's All. About. ME. I just feel like shit all the times these days, like a fucking afterthought (except when somebody needs something and oh, can you go *insert chore here* for me?), and the fact that nobody's mentioned a damn thing just ... *sigh*
I can't decide what's worse, that they might not be doing anything this year or that they might be throwing a surprise party for someone who loathes surprise parties.
Fuck it. I'm going to clean off my computer desk and see if I can manage to fit a desktop, the laptop and my printer all on the same surface. *cracks knuckles*
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no subject
Date: 2007-09-28 12:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-28 01:25 am (UTC)...yeah, probably not.
And your brother is an idiot. Which is so obvious that it really doesn't need to be said, but I'm saying it anyway. So there.