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amezriDear Father,
You're still an asshole. I have no respect for you and you surely don't deserve any. When we're eating, trying to angle a way to bring how much money you make into the conversation is a fucked up thing to do. My mother hasn't had the chance to get the water meter reading from the duplex - hey, you can use the phone, too, you know. Making a snarky comment about how she uses all your money? Not only is that completely untrue, it's vile and immature behavior. I'm sorry that you're such a sad, pathetic little man.
Don't expect me to be helping you out, ever. What I said was true. If something were to happen to you where you'd require constant supervision or assistance, it would take some long, hard thinking on my part before I would even entertain the idea of helping you. Your mere voice and presence makes me violent.
It's not just that you're a Class A jerk, oh no. You claim complete innocence. After my mom storms away from the table and I am clearly pissy, you have the gall to ask what we were so upset about and is it wrong to bring up money. No, it's not wrong. It's not wrong to have a rational discussion. It is, however, completely wrong to blame everyone but yourself. When your son is visibly uncomfortable and your daughter loudly says she wants to stab herself in the eye and claims all blame for your money being spent just so you will shut the hell up, that is wrong. Why you cannot see that is clearly some kind of mental retardation on your part.
To sum up: I still hate you. I hope you die. Slowly and painfully.
Much hate,
Me
P.S. Since you're still having that back problem, I'd be a bit more careful who you piss off, if I were you. Wouldn't want to find yourself in desperate need of assistance and discover everyone is too disgusted to help you.
[edit: I forgot to mention one thing. You do not work 100 hours a week. I'd be amazed if you worked over 40. Yeah, okay, you have double-shifts, but how many times a week? You have Friday-Monday off, so where exactly are you fitting these 100 hours? Hmmm?]
You're still an asshole. I have no respect for you and you surely don't deserve any. When we're eating, trying to angle a way to bring how much money you make into the conversation is a fucked up thing to do. My mother hasn't had the chance to get the water meter reading from the duplex - hey, you can use the phone, too, you know. Making a snarky comment about how she uses all your money? Not only is that completely untrue, it's vile and immature behavior. I'm sorry that you're such a sad, pathetic little man.
Don't expect me to be helping you out, ever. What I said was true. If something were to happen to you where you'd require constant supervision or assistance, it would take some long, hard thinking on my part before I would even entertain the idea of helping you. Your mere voice and presence makes me violent.
It's not just that you're a Class A jerk, oh no. You claim complete innocence. After my mom storms away from the table and I am clearly pissy, you have the gall to ask what we were so upset about and is it wrong to bring up money. No, it's not wrong. It's not wrong to have a rational discussion. It is, however, completely wrong to blame everyone but yourself. When your son is visibly uncomfortable and your daughter loudly says she wants to stab herself in the eye and claims all blame for your money being spent just so you will shut the hell up, that is wrong. Why you cannot see that is clearly some kind of mental retardation on your part.
To sum up: I still hate you. I hope you die. Slowly and painfully.
Much hate,
Me
P.S. Since you're still having that back problem, I'd be a bit more careful who you piss off, if I were you. Wouldn't want to find yourself in desperate need of assistance and discover everyone is too disgusted to help you.
[edit: I forgot to mention one thing. You do not work 100 hours a week. I'd be amazed if you worked over 40. Yeah, okay, you have double-shifts, but how many times a week? You have Friday-Monday off, so where exactly are you fitting these 100 hours? Hmmm?]
