August 17th, 2002


BLOODY juvenile..

I don't know exactly what it is that my dad is trying to accomplish with this "I'm not driving Faya anywhere, because she's "abusive"" thing. Ye GODS. He's just pissed that he doesn't get godlike treatment like his parents got when *he* was a teenager. News flash, Dad - this isn't the fifties. OR the sixties. And you have to earn respect. Everyone's. Even your kids. My dad's an overblown child. The irony interests me.
  • Current Mood
    annoyed annoyed

I do not know why my mother makes these statements.

Mum: I don't suppose you've seen Kiley's retainer case.
Me: Um... no?
Mum: She says she left it here when she left.
Me: *shrug* I... wasn't here when she left. You'd have to ask Faya.
Mum: And she's out.
Me: *nod*
Mum: That's... like... five hundred dollars, down the drain.
Me: *stare*

Now... *why* must she always turn everything into a massive crisis? This I do NOT understand. She did the same thing last week with my application. Which is now *in*, by the way. No, Mum, it's only MID-August, they won't take me off the health insurance 'til the END of August. Calm. BREATHE.

My mother is a serious alarmist. It drives me *insane*. >.
  • Current Mood
    working working