April 06, 2002 :: 12:26 a.m.
episode #297, in which I overuse the word fuck
Ugh. My parents have gone from concerned to really, openly fucking opposed to me working at Excitement Video. My mom's not so bad, but my dad... egads, I got enough lectures tonight to last me a few years. He thinks it's a stupid idea to work there. He thinks that I'm going to attract perverts like roadkill attracts flies, and end up being stalked and raped and knifed to death. He says that he doesn't know why I'm doing it. My parents don't approve. My sister doesn't approve. They'll give me money when I need it until I find a job somewhere else, he says.
FUCK YOU. I don't care if they approve, and I really fucking don't care if my sister approves. I don't want them to give me money. I want to work and cash my own fucking paychecks and not have to beg my parents for a few dollars for gas or a movie. I've never given them a reason to doubt my judgement or my decisions. Never. I've never smoked, or taken a drink, or done any drugs, or dated lots of horrible boys and had promiscuous sex. No. I got decent grades and hung out with friends that they liked and waited until I was 17 to lose my virginity to someone who I love with all of my heart and am still with. I had my own little brand of fun, never caused them any worry or trouble; for lack of another way to put it, I'm about the squeakiest of squeaky clean people. And the fact that they jump all over me because I took a job that's not quite to their liking makes me want to beat the living fuck out of something. Or at least break things, which I've already accomplished - I threw my phone at the wall, again, but this time it broke apart and the battery went off somewhere... I had to get a battery out of an old phone and tape it in place.
*sigh* Anyway. The point here is that while I understand that they're worried because they love me, I'm completely and utterly offended that they think so little of my judgement. (Fuckers.) End of story.
Not that it makes any difference, in the long run. They can't stop me from working there, and now that they're harping on me left and right, I just want to go and work there all the fucking time just to throw it in their faces. Immature? Perhaps. Do I really care? Certainly not. I'm pissed and I want to tear things apart.
Hurrah for strawberries in vanilla soy milk. Yummy yummy.
That will be all.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005