Yeah I really have a thing for runnin off by myself for awhile, and here are some more examples:

http://vacationstogo.com/fastdeal.cfm?deal=18057

Leaving on Aprill 22 out of Fort Lauderdale and arriving in San Diego on May 6th. Good news here is that it involves no international flights. Discount price $1200 -- purty good when ya consider it's less than $100 a day.

Repositioning cruises are always cheaper and that isn't even the most impressive one.

http://vacationstogo.com/fastdeal.cfm?deal=13520

90% off the original price leaving on May 7 out of Fort Lauderdale and arriving in Amsterdam, Holland on the 21st. Discount price for $780, problem is you're now stuck in Amsterdam although it's about $1500 back to San Fran which actually isn't that bad.

The first would be more efficient as that would cut the cost of international flights, but I think we all know I’m not going anywhere.

Mother just learned from her orthopedic doctor that she’s still on the waiting list and when they’re good and ready they’ll call her and give her a couple days notice.  Hurray! So now Mom’s attitude is fuck it!  Why should she spend all this time waiting on baited breath for the secretary to call?  As far as she’s concerned, she may as well have the gastric bypass now and kill two birds with one stone.  She can walk around more, but there's a good chance that if she keeps pushing it… BOOM!  But she’s determined now and will have this surgery whether anybody agrees to it or not.. IE gastric bypass surgery.   

It is now quite probable that I will be spending my birthday tending to her needs and wiping her ass – which I have no qualms about because that is true love.

I got to go to Vegas for my b-day last year.  Actually it was the week before, but it was still damn great.

Yeah I’m one of those whiney spoiled brats who have never been impressed with her birthdays.  The problem was I never had any friends and often my birthday celebration would include my extended family and nothing more.  I remember my Grandpa suggesting that we have our birthday party at the same time.  First of all I was turning 18 which was assumedly a big deal.  Next Grandma would serve Grandpa Coconut cake and me angelfood cake with sponge like strawberries.  And the main course?  Sweet and sour chicken – don’t get all excited this recipe basically consisted of chicken, a packet of onion soup and a bottle of Russian dressing.  I hated the stuff.

My 21st birthday I spent with Mother, my Aunt and my cousin Amy.  We had planned on ordering many margaritas and then perhaps consider a bit of food later.  Unfortunately Amy and her Mother Kaye never stray from the schedule and they were wolfing down the main course before we knew it.  Every once inna while a mind boggling cute waiter would walk by, and since I was already snauckered (and happened to be weighing 230 at the time), I’d giggle and point and say, “There goes my boyfriend.”  Then outta the blue he came to talk to me.  Me!  The fat chick getting talked to, I’d never been so lucky.  Plus my entire bar tab was free of charge which wasn’t their policy for birthday gurls.  Our waitress told us that he’d scratched those off.

*sigh*  My buzz was completely ruined when my Aunt said, “Oh I have a friend that works there and she just must have told him to come over and say hi.”

And there was much rejoicing

So I’m cranky because I’ve never once had a good ol’ knock ‘em out, drag ‘em down birthday party for me.  Now I’ve attended birthday parties for me, but amazingly the guest of honor was still ostracized.

Why do these getaways sound so appealing to me?  Because frankly I just wanna go off somewhere and be alone.  Stop tuning up your violin and picking at your heart strings – this isn’t a ploy for sympathy.

I can’t leave Mom; I certainly couldn’t leave Allie for two weeks.  I’m the only one who can stick this needle in.

I haven’t even gone to sleep yet.  What was I gonna write about?  It was gonna be profound, I’m just sure of it.  Oh I remembered.

Yes I have my Driver’s permit but the mere thought of setting up a date and time with the driving instructor sends me into a fetal position.  When it comes to driving I’m a simpering pile of wussiness – much like that nasty stain on your carpet from the dog.

Think of the thing that scares you the most, now run out and face it.  Right now!

Bleh.  So far I’ve managed to find excuse after excuse on getting out of this obligation. I’m just so sure I’m going to manage to fuck up in every possible way conceivable and some even inconceivable because I’m just that talented.

Once I learn to drive I think, or hope, everything will be a piece a cake.

Driving… Driving means having control of a weapon of mass destruction.  You must keep your eyes on the mirrors at all times AND the road.  It just feels like I don’t belong out there.

I always like to test things out before I go Gung Ho, but there really is no way with driving is there?  How can you test out onna busy freeway?  Ya can’t.  You’re screwed.  I’m hoping my instructor realizes our first session will include lots of crying from my side while actually putting the car in gear.

Actually I’m incredibly reluctant and my doctor had to tear the Paxil from my iron grip (which has been my security blanket for nearly the past four years).  Oddly enough this is a good sign and definitive proof of an anxiety disorder.  

Paxil really hasn’t been pulling its weight lately and turns out that SRI’s (serotonin reuptake inhibitors) lose their potency after a few years.  This would explain the onslaught of crankiness, chest pains, heart palpitations and panic attacks over brushing my teeth.  And of course the increasing need for Xanax.

Drum roll please…

Our new drug will be Effexor!

*Uproarious fanfare*

Effexor is a SNRI which is a serotonin noradrenaline reuptake inhibitor.  What does that really mean?  Christ onna cracker, I dunno, but the doctor told me it’ll work on two doo-dads up in the brain and that’s better than one.  *thumbsup*  Plus, in so far, she’s yet to see it lose its potency like Paxil, Prozac, Zoloft, etc.

So stay tuned to see if I become mildly happier or cranky as usual.

Why does Fifty Cent call himself Fiddy?  Does he have a lisp?

If there’s supposed to be a separation between Church and State then why do you have to swear on the Bible in court?

What if you’re an Atheist?

Why is Philadelphia spelled wrong on the Liberty Bell?

If celebrities like Demi Moore claim to be on the raw food diet then why do they all drink vodka and Red Bull?

Last weekend Mother and I watched that horrible endless made for tv movie: 10.5.  So completely scientifically inaccurate it boggles the mind.  Personally, I’ve always been plagued by the irrational fear that I’d be on the pot or in the shower when an earthquake struck.  Actually I was once in the tub when a relatively small earthquake occurred.  Naked, vulnerable and here comes the cataclysm.  What an upsetting way to go.

Come on people, April 24^th  is nearly upon us.  Chop chop!  I expect lots of presents or at least a few letter bombs.

I take it back, I don’t wanna Ipod; I want something much more expensive.  Remember last summer when the MGM Grand was having a ludicrous special on their penthouses?  No you don’t, but just listen.  Now we know why, they were guttin the place and building a brand new uppity hotel:  SkyLofts.  

Butlers and concierges galore will bow down to your every whim then lick up the mess when you’re finished; use of their limo, Royals Royce and private jet services at your leisure; comfort and discretion assured – meaning all the hookers you want.  

Why aren’t I there yet?  Simple, because one night at SkyLofts will run you about the same as three to four nights inna very nice uppity suite elsewhere – such as the Bellagio.  So why go?  Because it’s incredibly decadent and I want to damnit!

As long as folks keep askin for my ID I swear I’ll try to sustain from killing myself.  

I’m 21, 18, 12; I’m bloody four years old.  Imma fetus!  Don’t look at me!

Tonight:

A soccer mom of four with a strict Catholic upbringing and a strong conservative background and type A blood, and a Kabbalah practicing millionaire heiress with two small children who have four nannies each and two personal assistants plus type B blood will switch organs for two whole weeks.

Stay tuned and watch the sparks fly here on this week’s edition of Organ Swap!

If I was a dyslexic who wanted my life to mirror the popular video game Grand Theft Auto; I’d steal hookers and beat up on cars.

In the romantical sense.  I’ve long since grown weary of such abysmal disappointment.  Men are shallow, annoying and even worse; predictable *shudder*. 

I claim full responsibility for the blame.  I refuse the ever trite excuse, “Oh gosh I’m just too much of a woman for them to handle.”  No.  But I am intelligent, honest, tactless and not easily impressed.  Men are never sure how to gauge me, let alone how to attempt some sort of relationship.   

The giddy, trite and painfully predictable women that men tend to gravitate towards personally make me itch.

The homely checkout gurl misses my statement that I have 2 cases of water, instead she steadily swipes my purchases with one hand; the other feverishly rubbing herself over the mere fact that someone with a penis is talking to her.

Is this what men reduce us to?  A useless puddle of slobbering drool.  They just aren’t worth it.

I personally find an open-mouthed man quite distressing as he’s most assuredly sucking all the precious oxygen from the room.

Pretend boyfriends are harmless; a true relationship is nothing more than a time waster.  I can still admire a handsome face, but if this handsome face attempts to engage in conversation I won’t immediately wet myself.  Instead I’ll act indifferent and consider whether it’s worth my time and effort to reply.

I only watched the local news tonight to see how much rain we’d gotten, however to get to the Weather portion of our program you must endure this barrage of unimaginable crimes and accidents that plagued our population on this day.  Bummer.

We did enjoy a slight break in the tragedies when they mentioned the failing health of that one guy in Monaco.  Great, good!  Don’t care about a monarchy that rules over a piece of land no bigger than my butt. 

They were also kind enough to add a funny lil interlude of a man with handcuffs and no shoes trying to run from the police, but to be honest it was all down hill from there.

For awhile our road morphed in the Colorado River and folks tried some white water rafting – in their cars of course.

No dimwit, I never condoned the massacre of Jews, but because of naivety and ignorance I always assumed Hitler culminated the concept of Anti-Semitism.  I have glossed over history books and a fundamentalist Christian church to thank for that brainwashed idea.

Hitler wasn’t a genius at all, he was simply an opportunist.  He didn’t lead the German people to believe all their problems were caused by the Jews; he simply fanned their hatred that had been rooted in Europe’s history for centuries.

Well maybe the private ones do, but they also cost something like $5000 daily. 

The truth is I really do need to get away for awhile, but I can’t and it’s not about the money.  I must stay here to take care of the cat and take care of Mom.

If I go onna cruise alone they’ll charge me double

For instance

April 2 on the Diamond Princess out of LA – seven day cruise = $599

Sounds great right?  Well now we multiply it by 2 and add $123 for airfare.  Now we’re looking at nearly $1350.  Nope, nope, nope!

 

Here’s one that had promise:

April 20 on Holland American out of San Diego – four day cruise = $249

However we have to add flight expenses so the true total comes to $550.  Not really impressive for a 4 day cruise, but I could visit Snookie while in Vancouver.

How bout this one?  I won’t even have to fly:

April 17 roundtrip San Fran on Celebrity – seven day cruise = $550

Unfortunately I’m going alone and the total would double to over a thousand.  Pffft!

Here’s where I’d love to go:

A 30 day all inclusive weightloss program at The Hills Health Ranch in British Columbia.  Make sure you’re sittin down when I tell ya this:  The cost comes to $5280.  Yes I know, it’s insane, but compared to the nice lil psychiatric retreats that the insurance refuses to pay for, it’s a steal.  And actually I have some stock I could sell and pay for the damn thing myself.

 

It’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever admit myself into a hospital again.  Hospital psych wards are depressing, oppressing, not very relaxing and in the end once you leave, you’re even more fucked up then when ya got there.  Forget that.

I’ve been racking my brain over who I might be able to possibly visit.  Well my dear friend Christie has a youngin and umpteen grandchildren – that doesn’t sound very soothing to me.  I could visit family back in Kansas, but my terminally ill Aunt is abysmally depressing and all my grandma would do is bitch about everything.  Once again, not very stress relieving. 

I’ve also considered checking on bus fares to Las Vegas, but truthfully, Vegas is boring on its own.

The fact of the matter is this is all a pipe dream.  I can’t go anywhere.  I’m stuck!  I’m stuck until Mother’s well and had both surgeries – which could be anywhere around June or July.

Mr. Tolerable comes complete with a myriad of (and sometimes unidentifiable) smells.  Mr. Tolerable is also probably messy and never puts the toilet seat down, but I don’t find these habits unappealing.  In fact if you’re organized and always put the seat down then I would most likely never trust you.

Mr. Tolerable is occasionally interested in his personal hygiene.  Mr. Tolerable doesn’t insult me or himself with his half-assed superficial attempt at romance.  Mr. Tolerable will never be down with poetry.  Mr. Tolerable will never have a manicure or have his roots covered – this includes highlights.

If you possess most of these qualities then send me a smoke signal; however I draw the line at believing fortune cookies originated in China.

That’s right; all I know is that I’m listening to a Garfunkel song.

Wanna know something funny?  Xanax actually curbs my appetite.  I’m serious!  For the folks out there who say, “Well just use self-control, don’t eat, or my favorite, well clearly you never deserved this surgery.”  Yes, but I paid for it, so up yours.

I’m gaining weight and know I’m doing it on purpose.  “Sorry, I’m afraid I’m unable to drive, work or ever stick my head out the door because I weigh too much.“

I’d damn hell ass kill to get out of here.  Not forever, just a lil break or vacation.  Here’s what I really wanna do:  I wanna work onna cruise ship.  Although I refuse to be a maid or a cook – in my opinion I’d make a smashing hostess.  Mother said:

MOTHER:  And what qualifies you at being a hostess

ME:  Well I’m cute and very hostessy.

Well barring that, I could start taking hospitality courses at college and perhaps become a concierge.  That’d be a fun one.  Surely the ship’s concierge isn’t treated as a lowly a waiter/waitress or maid.

Not just any ship, I’m gonna be snobby here again: Crystal Cruises, Radisson; or the slightly lower Celebrity and Princess.

Unfortunately I’m drowning in guilt over the possibility of leaving my parents.  First of all the cat is sick and needs fluids subcutaneously, and I’m the only one brave enough to stick him with a needle.  Second is that Mother would go stark raving mad from hanging around my Dad way too long, and so finally when I returned I’d find her hanging from the rafters. 

They’ve got to hate me.  I’ve been spending most of my days curled up inna fetal position waiting for the inevitable.  Clearly this leaves little time to ship off packages to folks who’ve already paid me.

No fanfare, but I did get my driver’s permit.  Test was a hellva lot harder than those damn sample tests they gave off the internet.  For example:

Which child requires a child passenger restraint system?

A six-year old weighing 60 pounds
A five-year old weighing 55 pounds
A five-year old weighing 65 pounds

What an annoying question and I voiced my opinion out loud, "Well how the hell am I supposed to know?  I don’t ever plan on hauling children around in my car.  If it truly is a necessity then we can dump the brat in the trunk."  Surprisingly enough I got the answer right, which was the 55lb kid.

I was positive I’d miss the following one:

When driving on a slippery surface such as snow or ice:

Shift to a low gear before going down steep hills
Maintain traction by following other vehicles closely
Pump your brakes to keep them from freezing

The correct answer was the first one and once again I managed to get that question right.

Here’s one I buggered up on:

You see a pedestrian with a white cane ate the corner ready to cross the street. The person takes a step back and pulls in his cane. You should:

Proceed across the street because the person is not ready to cross
Stop your car a minimum of six feet from the crosswalk and wait for the person to cross the street
Honk your horn to let the person know when you’re crossing the street.

Now which one would you pick? I picked the latter.  Well it’s common sense since the guy is blind, but nope the correct answer was the first.

Here’s another I got correct but it was an incredibly annoying question that caused me to yell out, “What the….?”

It is legal to drive with an alcoholic beverage container that has been opened if the container is:

Under the front seat
In the glove compartment
In the trunk

Well by process of elimination I went with the trunk as it made the most sense I guess.

In the end the questions were all tricky and annoying.  A cheerleader in front of me missed 8.  Another elderly gentleman in front of me missed way too many and had to redo the test.  I was really shocked to learn I’d only missed four.

You know the lil eye test charts they got up at the DMV?  Unbelievably easy to read: a p z d r o and etc.  The elderly gentleman could not make out one letter so they sent him over to this special eye tester.  Now in my opinion if that guy had a helluva time with simplified and close eye charts, well maybe he shouldn’t be driving.

In the criminal justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous.  In New York City, they’re Grrrrreat!

Do you find it somewhat worrisome that Law and Order SVU seems to be everyone’s favorite show?  We can forgive ‘em for still watching American Idol, but this?  I honestly think you can catch past episodes of any Law and Order show at least five times a day; different episodes.  You can scarcely manage that with The Simpsons these days.

I started watching Law and Order SUV because Mother likes those shows and let’s face it, after two months of being stuck in the house you’re open to just about anything – even cop shows.  I honestly never knew they were specific to sexual offenses until the day I actually caught the beginning credits.  “Huh?  No they’re not.  I’ve seen quite a few episodes that had nothing to do with sex.” 

Apparently this is the hot show right now and the only thing going for NBC, and by God they’re gonna milk it for all its worth.  Like 85 different Law and Order shows and celebrity guests.  You know I’ve yet to sink so low as to write a letter to a celebrity but I must admit I’m thisclose to writing a sternly written letter to Martin Short commanding him, “Never do that again.”  All through his episode, even after his character’s guilt was clear, I vehemently denied he had anything to do with the murder simply because it was Martin Short.  He clearly enjoyed filming that episode way too much and needs a talking to.  Arrested Development, yes; Law and Order shows, no.

It’s an entertaining show, but I can’t in good conscience say I enjoy it.  It’s too bloody depressing to be enjoyed.  I bet I can hazard a guess it’s not a popular show amongst cops and lawyers.  Cops being of the lower brow variety probably prefer Everybody Loves Raymond and lawyers are most likely glued to news channels or don’t have time to watch tv at all.  Like doctors, I suppose, I doubt any of them set their Tivo to tape ER or Nip/Tuck.  Still this is everybody’s down right, A number one favorite show and I don’t think anyone’s stopped to ponder why.

Why are they bringing A Current Affair back, claiming, “This has never been done before”?  Yes it has, you did it in the early 90’s then everybody followed suit: Like hard Copy and Real Stories of the Highway Patrol.  I thought this trend was over.  And who really needs scripted news shows when we have Fox News?  The white trash network.  On the other hand gays and Jews watch CNN while I ignore them all equally.  I watch the local news.  That’s it; I don’t give a damn about anyone else.  Like that Atlanta guy!  The only reason I know anything about his story is because I was stuck inna hotel room with shitty cable and half of ‘em news or sports channels.  Honestly the way they were covering this story you woulda thought they’d caught Bin Laden himself.  I’m fairly certain another four folks met their demise at someone else’s hands that day in America.  Ya mind sharing why this one in particular is so bloody important?

I got off track.  The point is A Current Affair will be taking over The Simpsons time slot starting next week.  Ya mind telling me what I’m supposed to do between 11:00 pm and 11:24?

So it turns out I have a lot of problems, one of them being I’m no longer 430 pounds.  I can no longer use that extra cushion of comfort as an excuse for not participating in life. 

Now I’m really screwed; 27 years old and never truly been released out into the wild.  I always assumed it was for society’s protection.  It’s been a damn easy life style hanging on my parents’ coattails all these years.  I could keep this up, but it only seems fair to test other waters before I settle.

I’m terrified of failure and even more petrified of success.  Change and the unknown are hard and continually burying your head in the sand sounds much for favorable; but what’s the worst possible thing that could happen?  And more importantly why does it matter? 

My therapist asked me today, “What do you think life would be like if you could live without fear?  Can you imagine it?”

“My God,” I replied, “It’d be wonderful and I’d feel so sorry for everyone else in the world.”  And that’s the answer to the question, isn’t it?

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my recent hobby (reading books about ancient history) is that since the dawn of mankind we’ve been fucked.  People in the past managed cataclysmic errors in their lives just as we’ve done today and will most assuredly keep up the habit in the future. Noone was ever even remotely perfect and in the end, everyone became a bastard.

I am like a fucking Chihuahua; nervous and shaking all the time like an idiot.  The slightest noise or creek causes me to leap out of my seat and hit the floor inna fetal position. 

Mother doesn’t flip the feet up from her wheelchair when she gets up.  Instead she tries to step over them even though she’s practically a midget and cannot lift her legs very high at all. 

I was attempting some nice relaxation time while watching Mad TV.  Meanwhile Mother is trying to step over the foot of the wheelchair and trips.  Instantly my heartbeat and stress levels are off the chart.  She screeches, I freak and it turns out she only ripped her fingernail off.  Which mind you is very ouchy, but at that moment I feared it was something far worse.  I stared at the floor and she asked if I was okay then said, “Oh Christ! Are you gonna be upset all day now?”  I said no just that it really freaked me out and she replies, “I wish you wouldn’t treat me like that.  I feel like I’d be better off staying in bed all day.”

Later we both apologize and while I’m sitting at my computer she raises one of the feet from the wheelchair (so’s not to trip again), it makes a screeching sound and I shoot through the roof again.

We just can’t win around here.

Yesterday I called the ATM machine a mother fucker then pointed at the lil mirror where the camera hides and said, “I’m watching you.”

Strangely enough the most relaxing part of my day yesterday was getting my eyebrows ripped off.  Yes it hurt like a bitch because I can go from perfect model eyebrows to Martin Scorsese in nuttin flat.  However the esthetician, Michelle, keeps this wonderful relaxed atmosphere with soothing music and a nice soft warmie bed.  It was so great that when she asked if she could attack my chin hairs I told her to go for it.

Any moment now you're going to find me on the cover of People magazine being toted around by Paris Hilton.  Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing because she does seem to dress her pets in the finest, and I have always wanted my own Louis Vuitton bag.

This morning I was lying in bed wondering how in the hell can I make it back to normal, or at least what was normal for me.

While at the donut shop I stood by the counter and rested my head against the glass.  There was an elderly woman sittin at a table just across from me.  She asks, “Are you ok?” 

“Well…I….No not really”

She says, “It’s just you look so sad.”

“Yes but sometimes that’s just how it is, and maybe tomorrow will be better.”  Perhaps ol’ Scarlett knew what she was talking about.

I mildly drove today.  I am a complete imbecile when it comes to driving – I get the accelerator and brakes confused constantly.  Thank God my Dad is patient and I apologize every five seconds for a fuck up, but he said I did real good.  He hugged me and apologized for not trusting me and when I asked what he would like for me to do, of course he said drive and by God that’s what I did.

Mom and I studied for the permit tonight.  Some of those questions are painfully easy and others I seriously have to question their logic, but Dad informed me all I have to do is give ‘em the answer they want.  I have an appointment for March 17 to take the test.  So fingers crossed everybody 

I must admit I’ve never felt so alone.

Dontcha love the stock response to a personal dilemma? “You really should consider seeing a therapist and I personally recommend much medication.”  My theory is the folks who are always willing to dole out this advice have never set foot inna therapist office before.

My wrists hurt.

Well it turns out I was under the false impression that indeed these folks cared about me, when in fact they’d prefer I act like everyone else.  Different is not allowed.

After venting and spilling my guts some busybody cunt took it upon herself to come over to my journal here, then scurry back to the ObesityHelp message board claiming I was going to slash my wrists.  Well not only that but she had the audacity to call my surgeon at 4 in the morning.  Once out of the tub at 7 I made a call to the surgeon’s office apologizing for this stupid hoax.  It gets better.

Now everyone believes I wrote on the main message board about slashing my wrists wide open.  Since the nosy cunt still must have had some time on her hands (and instead of emailing me and in fact she’s yet to try and contact me) she chose to do some sleuthing and called the police.

On returning from a lil driving lesson my Dad and I bought celebratory donuts only to find a cop car in our driveway.  Once again I had to apologize about this hoax and was sorry that some stupid fool had wasted his time.

And now everyone, including the folks who I assumed where my friends, are feverishly masturbating over the prospect of me being institutionalized.

Onna fun note, I think its interesting people are encouraged to post about shitting themselves or wiping their ass.

3/20/05 Note: I couldn't stand it any longer and had to clean up my numerous grammatical errors.  Christ was I ever wasted that night.

Nobody seems to grasp my affinity for death and unfortunately I can’t explain it to ‘em.  Ever since I was young, 4 years old, I always knew I was different and in the end, didn’t belong on this planet or even had a right to.

After all I’m a 27 year old who can’t even drive and doesn’t have a job.  I bide my time taking care of my handicapped Mother, keeping the house clean (and also refusing to take money from her) and lest we forget injecting fluids into my ailing cat.  Amazingly I’ve been able to handle it all except for the occasional outburst. 

The obesity help event in Fresno will soon be upon us and I thought it’d be nice to get Mother out of the house.  I called the Sheraton to inquire about the rates.  When it comes to hotels I’m a complete spoiled brat.  Mother snores like a freight train and we always purchase conjoining rooms.  However the cheapest price was $95, and yet the luxury suite was $200 – to me it was a no brainer.  Obviously I only called to inquire about the rates and my Father accused me, “Well what’d you buy now.”  This is interesting because I know I’m a lowly loser and never use their credit cards without permission Also an interesting side note: Everyone would prefer to stay at the hotel I’m not.  I have proof!  Noone’s bothered to answer my replies.

I’ve spent the last two months taking care of Mother.   The doctor’s orders were that she needed to stay off her feet at all times.  My Father spends most of his time at church.  Like 5 hour practice sessions on his day off.  His one duty is to take the trash down which I’ve recently taken over because he works nights and that would be one less load off his mind.  Instead of thanking me he says, “Praise the Lord.”

I apologize for the rambling and nonsensical post. 

I no longer look for thank yous, it’s childish and absurd.  For the past few months I’ve done everything in my power to please him and not start immature fights, even if that means agreeing to everything he says.  He actually accused me of spending $7000 on our last trip.  Yes we did stay in the Presidential suite at the Radisson that came to a total of $400, but when asked if I wanted to go shopping at the outlet, I declined.  I have enough damn clothes in my closets and would be happy to never see them again.

What about the time we were at the store together.  It was more crowded than I expected and it’s purty safe to assume I was cranky.   I realized I’d forgotten mushroom soap, so I told him to get paper plates and wait for me there.  Two cans of mushroom soap in hand, plus I remembered the ground turkey and there was a package of chicken thighs insanely on sale.  I assembled them with great care and began to waddle to the produce aisle where Russ was waiting.   He wasn’t there.  I first considered dropping everything and just going to the car, but that would mean an employee would have to pick it up.  Although I wasn’t even remotely through with my list, I found him already at the checkout line.  And seething angry as I was, I never said a thing and just talked normal like nothing ever happened, because this is what I do now, I compromise to keep this house a pleasant dwelling.

After he accused me of running up phantom credit card bills and only demanding the best, I see now what his true feelings are for me.  And it really doesn’t matter; I’ll get up in the morning, apologize for my actions and claim full responsibility.

Yes I’m a 27 year old with a comical education and no job – in his (and most likely everyone else’s eyes) I’m worthless, and somehow I think he speaks for the majority.  I contribute nothing to this world

I’m going to the tub now, completely drug induced, but most importantly I have a razor I’ve been saving for a special occasion.  The truth is, the world doesn’t need me, it made that clear a long time ago.

I’ve literally lost a day.  God Bless Xanax.  Stay tuned and I’ll share some of the better sites to order it from.

I wish it was possible to add a recording of me screaming to this entry, for there are no other words to express my feelings