Sep. 20th, 2004

fredericks: (ZoeNMal (vialyndalynn))
I said I would wait until rush hour passed to brave the ride home, but it's 4:51 and I'm tired of sitting in this damned computer lab listening to the old printer wheezing out documents behind me. Homeward bound.

When I left the house my mom was in my room. It wigged me out. I'm fairly certain she went through all the stuff in my drawers, spewed on the floor, and whatnot.

Shake and Co has King's "Dark Tower" in a box on the floor in the backroom. They've had it since the 17th, and I saw it there as I was clocking in yesterday. I had half a mind to pick up one of the boxes and walk out with it. But sanity took hold. Tomorrow's the day. Should I wait for it to come out in the library (and fight for one of the three (?!?!?) copies that'll be on display) or buy it outright, using my employee discount for the last time? Eh. Choices choices.
fredericks: (Vince)
A couple of minutes ago I got into a bickering match with my father. More of the same, except this time I wasn't willing to shut up and let him dominate. His cell phone bill came today, and it was obvious that Verizon had overcharged him (it's a running theme with them). What he wasn't clear on is *why* they'd overcharged him. I was feeling guilty because I'd upgraded them during my last Saturday at Radioshack, and I neglected to tell them about the whole prorated contract thing. At first I'd thought that that was the reason why he got stuck with that massive additional amount. But when he started with his yammering I realized that wasn't it at all. I'd been doing the cell thing for almost a year; I knew what the problem was, trust me. My father, however, who hasn't dealt with cell phones ever (I mean, he doesn't even pay the bill - my mom does) swore that he knew what the problem was. Blah blah blah blah blah. I had to step in and enlighten him, at first because I wanted to be helpful because it seemed like he was confused, and then because he was being a total jackass (as usual).

Having a "discussion" with my father is a study in frustration, because he'll come straight out and say he's not listening to you because YOU'RE WRONG. I just got really tired of him basically implying that I'm an idiot, especially when it came to something that I used to deal with on a daily basis. We were at it for 15 minutes or so, and I got so pissed at him my upper lip started doing this weird feral-like twitching that only that man seems capable of bringing out of me. We didn't really come to a conclusion as much as he sort of killed it and walked away. It was ridiculous, a waste of time and breath, but I was just tired of constantly having him run his mouth like he was God's gift to humanity.

*

Ugh. Mom made some really delicious breadfruit and sweet potatoes, but she was very heavy-handed with the pepper. So much so that my nose and eyes were burning while I was washing out the empty pot. My stomach is on FIRE. Why must the good things cause so much pain?

*

Heh. Mom, Grandma, and Aunt were over, talking about the Emmy's. Angels in America came up, and they were all like "I hear that's good. I should see it". I nearly spat out my soda. I read the play for class, and I managed to get the movie from Blockbuster and watch most of Part I and half of Part II. I thoroughly enjoy it, but I know my folks aren't going to be all thrilled with the "gay parts". And when I say "gay parts" I mean 95% of the movie. I just quickly told them "You guys wouldn't like it." When they asked what it was about I said the AIDS crisis of during the 80's and 90's. I wonder if I should have kept my mouth shut. Would they have made it through? Liked it? Eh. Maybe they'll watch it anyway.

*

I walked into the back dining room, where Krishna was, and happened to glance down. There was a slight bit of wetness right near the hairy rump of my pooch. I looked her in the eye, took in her droopy ears, and said to myself "Uh-oh". I'm all "Krishna, move over". She gets up and plops down on her blanket, still looking at me with her sad face. Sure enough, there's more wetness underneath her. It would seem that she peed the floor and then, in a half-assed attempt to cover up the evidence, laid down in the wetness. The perfect crime...if she was an absorbent sponge. But I couldn't chastise her or put her outside when she was looking at me like that. I just shrugged and said "Well, since you did try to take care of it", then walked in the front. When I told my brother about it he rolled his eyes and threw his napkin at me, telling me to clean it up.

Which I did. That dog so has me wrapped around her front paws.

*
Time spent on commute home : 50 minutes.
Pages studied during commute home: 21

Time home so far: 4 hours
Pages studies during time home: 0

Oh yes. I'm working hard.

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