I don't mind saying that yesterday was, without a doubt, awful.
First off, Dirk and I had our first pregnancy-related fight....I say "pregnancy-related" because my hormones have been more out of whack than usual, so I haven't been able to control my temper as well as before. The result was that I was more cruel, quicker to start yelling, and I felt miserable, so I spent a lot of time whining. So, Dirk was mad at me, I was mad at him, and the whole mess didn't get resolved until about 1:30. Keep in mind that my parents were home, waiting for me to get back from college.
I'm not sure how the fight ended, but it was rather suddenly over. Dirk is pushing me to make an appointment with the clinic because my mood swings are getting worse. I don't mind telling you guys that, frankly, I'm afraid. I mean, at best it's going to hurt. At worst, there could be rather horrid complications that end me up in the hospital or worse. You know, no matter what I do, I'm pretty much screwed one way or the other. I'm planning to call next week, when my parents are safely back at work.
I got home at about 1:45, to the sound of That Cunt screaming. She was ranting about how I should have called if I was going to be late, and bitching about the fact that she "knew" where I'd been. As if it was any of her fucking business. Well, I'd already had a miserable day, so I wasn't even close to wanting to put up with her shit. So, when she told me that I'd have to apologize for "not caring about the fact that she worries", but that I wasn't going to get to use the car on Friday no matter what, my response was rather simple. "Screw this." And I went to my room to hide. Well....that was a mistake. That psychotic bitch completely lost her mind, and started screaming that I was not allowed to use the car at all, and if I drove either of them, she was going to call the cops. I don't know how I ended up with this type of a bitch for a mother. Then, she demanded the keys. I categorically refused, because I fucking pay for the priviledge of driving, and I was tired of being treated like an errant sixteen-year-old.
My father blundered along to "talk some sense into me". He told me, first of all, to give up the keys. While I was perfectly willing to not drive the car, I wasn't giving up the goddamn keys. Because I knew I was getting them back, as soon as the bitch calmed down, and I'd sooner not have the hassle of taking them off the keychain and putting them back on. He informed me that my attitude was going to "end me up in jail one of these days". Fucking bullshit. See, in the real world, when you pay for something, you become the owner...it's in your name, and you have the right to drive it whenever you damn well please. Unfortunately, my family doesn't live in the real world. We live in a state known as "The Nightmare Realms of The Underworld". So, yes, since I have a psychotic bitch for a mother and a fucking eunuch for a father, I could suffer the indignity of being arrested for the belief that "since I paid for it, I have a some rights." So, I pointed out to him that one of the cars would be in my name (because I fucking paid for it!), except that he and my mother had spent days convincing me that it was for the best if it was kept in their name. They promised, however, that it would be mine no matter what, and they'd sign it over if I moved out, no matter what the situation was. Lies. All of it.
Anyway, my father got huffy, and started crying/yelling, "Don't start blaming me, too. I'm the one who tries to make peace here. I'm the only one who keeps the family together. I'm always having to get between you two, and you just attack me."
I was suitably unimpressed. "Well, who the hell asked you? And it's your fault as much as hers, since you spent so much goddamned time convincing me to hand over as much of my life to you guys, so you could run it for me."
That made him go away. Then I heard my mother triumphantly screaming, yet again, that if those cars went anywhere, she was going to call the cops. Keep in mind, she was screaming this while lying flat on her back from a backache. So, I calmly told her, "Well, I guess that puts an end to going to the tutor's, huh? And, if I don't get the car back by Friday, I can't very well go to college either, can I?"
Then, I took the keys of the keychain, dropped them smugly into her hand, and walked back into my room. I hate these people, and I don't mind saying that I wish my mother would curl up into a little fried ball of hate and die. I can't wait until I move out, which may be sooner than I thought.
Then I called Dirk and cried. He convinced me to take a short walk and get the number for the car that was being sold a couple blocks over. When I left, it wasn't until I was at the end of the driveway that my mother started screaming, "Where do you think you're going?" I ignored her, and told my father when I passed him that I'd be gone for about an hour, and his wife didn't seem to care that I'd left.
The walk was worthwhile. It was a semi-pretty day, and ‘Bert honked and waved as I was walking back home. I haven't seen him in a long, long time. I thought I was going to be saved, and he'd pick me up, but no dice. He was in his uniform, so I figured he was running late for work. I was almost at my street when Dirk and his mother stopped to pick me up...apparently, Dirk was under the mistaken impression that he'd left his paycheck in my car. I mentioned that I'd seen it on his coffee table, and sure enough.....so, they brought me home again.
There was more stupidity awaiting me at home. As part of the Formal Ceremony of Repentance, I was forced to make an unsincere apology to That Cunt. The apology included my sorrow for losing my temper, speaking to her in an inappropriate tone of voice, and using words (i.e. Screw) in addressing her that I should not have. Never mind the fact that she tells my father and I to "Fuck off" on a regular basis. And never mind the fact that she was speaking to me as though I was the lowest scum on the planet. I got the rights to the car back, and I bullied them into agreeing to put the older car in my name as soon as I got the transmission replaced. I'm not holding my breath, though. These people are slime, who wouldn't hesitate to welch on a deal they made with their own daughter.
So my father was deliriously happy, because peace was made, and they both made contented noises to the effect that I would never move out, because I'm not that stupid. I hope they both die, and I hope it hurts.
Don't tell me how to feel about my parents. You want ‘em, they're yours. Maybe you'll make them proud. I never could.
You know, when you see the word "dream" enough, it starts looking like an alien word.
My car was parked on a corner in D.C., at some sort of shopping center. Standing on the corner was Krisco, Billy, and a few others that I vaguely knew from Krisco. They were talking about Roachboy and how horribly I'd treated him. I didn't want to talk to Krisco, and I didn't know how she'd react to seeing me (it was understood that they didn't know I was in the car), but I couldn't have these people slandering me just because they only had Roachboy's lies to go on.
So, I got out of the car, and gave them a few Home Truths. 1) Roachboy owed me over $1,000 that he wasn't going to pay back, out of spite. 2) Roachboy had not been a martyr after we broke up; in fact, he'd made me as miserable as he possibly could 3) Roachboy did not honestly care about Krisco's problems--when he was told about her pregnancy and abortion, he'd collapsed to the ground, laughing 4)Roachboy didn't really give a shit about anyone as a person. He'd admitted as much, and said that it was alright, because of his obsessive-compulsive disorder. In the dream, my powers of persuasion (always strong) increased tenfold. Krisco admitted that she was miserable, and she wanted to ask me for advice. Billy was apparently treating her like an animal, but she loved him so much that she didn't know what to do.
She asked me to come over to her house, where we stayed up all night talking about her problems, and how glad she was that I was speaking to her. Just as I always thought, she sleeps in a silk-lined coffin. She also gave me cookies.
If I were a believer in the messages that dreams tell us, I'd say that I was meant to reconcile with Krisco. I'm not that big an idiot, however. Even if I were to do so, she'd only feign politeness because she's scared to death of me. What would I say to her, anyway? "I'm sorry, Krisco, for convincing Dirk to dump you, but you were ruining his chances of having a normal life." I'm sure that would go over well.
Here's something for all the true believers out there Blasphemous, in an amusing way. Check out "Jesus Rocks Nads". It has nekkid pics.
(3:00pm) As if we needed further proof that Alex is a moron.....he almost broke the typewriter on my desk because he didn't know how to insert a new ink cartridge. He's been working here for a year longer than me, he ought to know how to handle the equipment at this point.
I might actually get to escape this hell-hole tonight. Dirk says that DoShu is supposed to pick us up so we can hang out or something. I hope it works out.
You know, there's a lovely journal out there, elusive. This is the girl Roachboy keeps mistaking me for....she makes shit up about her life so people will feel sorry for her. She even said that one of her friends killed himself through an aneurism, for chrissakes! Even excluding the fact that she makes things up, she is the most inarticulate, grammatically incorrect journalist I have ever had the misfortune to come across. She's fifteen, or seventeen, and she supposedly has "flings". I think she's delusional.