hi. shut up.
Apr. 4th, 2004 06:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amezriI don't know what the hell they're fighting about now, but it's giving me a headache and making me really, really violent. I'd like to go out there and stab him in the face with a nice, dull spoon. It's probably about money and my brother going to college and how my father's not going to pay for it because my brother isn't bringing home high enough grades. Oh, and how I'm just sitting at home and how my mother spends all of his money.
If I weren't trying to encode files, I would blast some music. But, yeah.
Then suddenly he's fine and doing that whistling thing. Two seconds later he's right back into it with a final comment before turning the TV back on with the volume up as high as it will go. Are there drugs I can slip him? Or perhaps just a bullet in the brain. Really. Anything. I'm not picky.
ETA: Lovely dinner I just had. It's nice how we can sit down and all be yelled at for 10 minutes about how we're all losers and are going nowhere. Yay. Now the motherfucker is saying he's going to sell the house. So where am I going to live? With my mother? Certainly not because she's incompetent and, oh no, she can't protect me.
Fuck. You. I don't need my mother to protect me from your bullshit.
Hey, guess what? I'm not afraid to play the grandparent card. How about I call your mother and father and let them know that you're not going to send their beloved grandson to college? Or, hey, how you wants to throw me into the street. I hate them, but damn, they'll go ballistic on your ass.
So. Yeah. Threatening me with selling the house? Not going to work, asshole. You sell the house and where the hell do you think you're going to live. Oh and, hey, I don't believe you can sell the house if you still have a fucking mortgage on it! Because that means whoever buys the house will have to take it over and I really doubt you'll lower the selling price. Fucktard.
Go to hell.
If I weren't trying to encode files, I would blast some music. But, yeah.
Then suddenly he's fine and doing that whistling thing. Two seconds later he's right back into it with a final comment before turning the TV back on with the volume up as high as it will go. Are there drugs I can slip him? Or perhaps just a bullet in the brain. Really. Anything. I'm not picky.
ETA: Lovely dinner I just had. It's nice how we can sit down and all be yelled at for 10 minutes about how we're all losers and are going nowhere. Yay. Now the motherfucker is saying he's going to sell the house. So where am I going to live? With my mother? Certainly not because she's incompetent and, oh no, she can't protect me.
Fuck. You. I don't need my mother to protect me from your bullshit.
Hey, guess what? I'm not afraid to play the grandparent card. How about I call your mother and father and let them know that you're not going to send their beloved grandson to college? Or, hey, how you wants to throw me into the street. I hate them, but damn, they'll go ballistic on your ass.
So. Yeah. Threatening me with selling the house? Not going to work, asshole. You sell the house and where the hell do you think you're going to live. Oh and, hey, I don't believe you can sell the house if you still have a fucking mortgage on it! Because that means whoever buys the house will have to take it over and I really doubt you'll lower the selling price. Fucktard.
Go to hell.
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no subject
Date: 2004-04-05 09:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-05 05:57 pm (UTC)