21 August 2009
I know it's been a while since my last blog. I want to write more often, but sometimes, okay, most of the time I get out what I need to via Twitter. Not this time.
This has been the king of fucking shit-all weeks. No kidding. Let me start, well, from the beginning. Last Friday I took dad to get his 'medicine' but it wasn't good. Just try to follow me here. Since it was some pretty weak shit, he got mad. Well for him to buy that 'medicine' I gave him $60 of my last dollars for the month. Still with me? Okay, well since the shit was weak & he was pissed & I being virtually broke (I've still got about $20 on me and $50 in the bank,) that just pushed his anger farther into the abysmal red zone. So I guess he needed something to be pissed at and this became the local cable company. He fought with them for about 3 days to try and fix the reception he was getting bc a few of his channels had interference and were kind of fuzzy. I mean, you could still watch it, but being that it wasn't perfect & the neighbor's WAS, that just wouldn't fucking fly.
Well yesterday, he got me up, bright and fucking early to bring me in on this shit tornado and had me look up the cost to switch to a satellite/dish company like DirecTV or Dish. So I did. I was kind of excited about the fact he wanted a dish since those came with the channels I love like BBCAmerica, Bravo, Oxygen and all that other crap. Well it was about $15 more a month and only offered the local Lexington channels, not the local Louisville channels (which was his main concern.) Don't ask me why, I have no fucking clue. Are you still following me here?
When the cable company gave him the run around and basically said there wasn't a problem, the fire in his ass got hotter and he started to shit lava. He left for a few hours, to walk it off I guess, and I tried to shower and get dressed & clean the house as much as I could before he came back. I was on my way out the door and WHAM! There he was. Fucking fucksticks!
He asked where I was going, so I told him the library, which is where I went. Then he asked if I was going to find a job or a place to move to. What?!? Um, no. I hadn't planned on it. I thought about asking, "Should I?" but realized that wouldn't be smart, so I kept my mouth shut.
Thinking things were okay, just that he was still in a bitch assy mood, I left and went to the library for a few hours. Well when I got home, shit started at ThreatCon Delta. I have no idea what the fuck I did, but dad told me he was moving out. I asked where he was going and he wouldn't tell me for a while. Later he said he too had been to the library and researched about going to San Francisco. Well, okay. What the holy piss do I say to that?
It kind of hurt my feelings a little that he was just going to up and leave me with everything, telling me he was moving out on the first of September. Then he started in with his usual; I'm a bad daughter, I don't care, I never show/say my appreciation for everything he's ever done for me, I'm selfish, I pity myself, I'm ungrateful and act like a bitch. I think that covers the jist of it. Anyway, you get the idea, right?
So this goes on for a while and my only reaction really is to cry, because I fucking do that shit when I'm mad. HE sees it as my way of wanting sympathy or some other bullshit. That just pisses me off more. I say very little, because I know whatever I say, I'm basically cutting my own throat. Which is right. Because everything I said got twisted around and misinterpreted to make it seem like, again, I don't care, want sympathy, blah, blah, fucking blah.
Here it is Friday, and here I am again at the Library to get some peace and quiet. I intially came here so I could watch a movie on my laptop, but I don't think I'll have enough time and will probably just try to watch it at home tonight if I ever get time. As I'm sure when I DO go home the bitch party will continue and I'll end up crying off all my fucking makeup. What pisses me off most is that my eyes feel like hot pokers are stabbing me because they are so dry. OH, but this moring they were all pretty, red and puffy like fucking marshmallow eyes.
I think he got his tv fixed today. At least that's what it seemed bc the main tech guy w/the cable company came over and worked on shit for about an hour. I know he was doing stuff w/our cable because I was trying to watch DOOL and my tv kept going snowy. Once that was done, he left, so I got my shit together and left as well. But not before I grabbed my laptop case newly covered with cat piss.
Really? Seriously God, that shit is NOT fucking funny. I spent about 10 minutes cleaning that nasty shit off then sprayed it soaking wet with Fabreeze. I hope no one around me can smell the cat piss. I know I can't.
Well, here I sit, at the library trying to blog this shit out and while I feel a little better, I still don't know what to fucking do. I mean, I can't go stay with any friends for a few days bc they all have kids or are married. I could look for a job, but that is the same shit I've been trying to do. In this economy is like trying to win the fucking lottery just to even get an interview with someone.
I have an appointment with my Psychiatrist Monday morning. Maybe if I act like a crazy fucking psycho she'll admit me to a mental health facility? Well, my dad DID tell me I needed to get some help. Which is ironic, because I actually HAVE been getting help, yet he hasn't and really is the one who needs it. I don't fucking know.
Sometimes I just want to stand in the middle of rush hour traffic or jump off a fucking bridge, but with my luck, I'll just get really badly injured then have a lot of other shit I can't pay. So scratch that idea.
What I really want is to get a fucking job so I can take my two kitties and move the fuck out! I can't take going through this insanity every other week. No shit, it is every other week. I could make a calendar by his mood swings.
Okay, I feel a little better, but I know I still have to go home. UGH. That makes the pit of my stomach rumble with fear.
Who the fuck knows what will happen? I sure as hell don't. One thing I DO know, is that I'm so over feeling like shit all the fucking time for no damn reason. I could understand if I did shit on purpose, but no. It comes from out of nowhere like a fucking ninja.