Today, I have actual track marks from my multiple blood-lettings yesterday.
I feel so bad. I feel like I should be wearing a leather halter top and too much eyeliner.
Or not.
I believe that the ghost of Chris Farley is exposing himself to women in cemeteries around our area.
It’s possible. The late comedian is actually buried here in Wisconsin, albeit several miles away from the scene of the crime. I feel for any local chubby blond guys right now. Dere’s gonna be a witch hunt. I can feel it already.
More tales of woe:
My grandmother is pissing me off.
Yesterday, my mom left the hospital before my grandmother and aunt got there. Honestly, the emotion had gotten too much for her. My mother is not one for showing emotion. She feels that it is a weakness, so she fled. Mo and I stayed until Mafia Grandma and aunt got there.
‘Has anyone seen your mother?’ M.G. asked, as soon as she walked in the door.
‘Yeah, she was here earlier, but she had an appointment to keep.’ Mo said distractedly, standing at the side of the hospital bed, holding Betty’s hand. Which was true’ Mom had mentioned that she had to pick up my little brother to get his haircut before school started.
‘What kind of appointment?’ M.G. raised her eyebrows, not even trying to hide the skepticism in her voice.
I felt like grabbing Mo, stopping her at that moment, but I couldn’t move. Actually, I knew what was coming, but I didn’t want to believe that M.G. could be so petty. I should know better. I really should.
‘She had to pick up Jonathon to get his haircut’.’ Mo started, then tried to backpeddle as M.G. raised her eyebrow. ‘She had made this appointment like two weeks ago and it was really hard to get in&AO8AvwC9AO8AvwC9- She faltered and then gave up.
M.G. snorted in disgust and said nothing, but we all knew that this was being written down on the lengthy imaginary list that my grandmother keeps of each of our transgressions. In permanent imaginary ink. There it would be stored until she was able to get back at us somehow through a slight or backhanded comment. It would never be erased, though. Each of our sins are immortalized in her brain. My mother, her oldest daughter, has always been the black sheep of the family, refusing to buckle under her mother’s controlling nature. My sister and I are constantly wavering in and out of her favor. It’s a constant dance that we unwittingly take part in. I’ve refused for the past two years and thus, I am persona non-gratis.
Then, as if that wasn’t already painfully obvious, M.G., who is subtle like a fucking sledgehammer, says ‘Boy, this sort of brings back the days of Great Grandma’.
You think?
So, anyway, she’s pissing me off. And the fact that I’m getting pissed off pisses me off. A woman is dying and I’m getting pissed off at my grandmother. It’s inappropriate and I’m making myself more upset. The psychologist in me says that my psyche must be uncomfortable with the feelings of grief therefore it’s channeling it’s emotions into something that it feels more comfortable with’anger. Whatever, dude, it’s just pissing me off.
I also handled something very badly yesterday. Some young girl signed my guestbook with some comments which were not of the nice nature. They weren’t offensive, persay, just basically said that my page was boring and ‘not fun’ and that my life was boring. She then stated that if my page was so boring, it made her realize that her own diary must be pretty crappy too. I don’t know why this incited me so much but for whatever reason, it did. I shot off a cold email to her and then felt bad about it. It basically said that I never claimed to be a ‘fun’ diary, just more fun than “a lobster in your pants” and that wasn’t exactly fun, with the claws and such, and I wasn’t sure what intent she had when she signed my guestbook in that manner… and then some other mean stuff. I almost wrote back and told her that my email had been uncalled for and to send me her diary’s url and I’d be happy to take a look at it, but I didn’t. It’s what I should have done, but I didn’t. I didn’t because I just didn’t feel as though I had the energy to be kind to someone I don’t even know, especially after I didn’t have the energy to be kind to my own family at the hospital. So later last night, I received an email back from her, stating that she never asked for my opinion, she had just felt that maybe I didn’t know that my diary sucked and she wanted to make sure that I knew that my life was considered boring. Basically, it was full of defensive language and I knew that I had probably done far more hurt to her than she had to me.
So anyway, if you’re reading this (not that I think you are, because I probably pissed you off), my email to you was uncalled for and I’m very sorry. If you send me your address, I’d love to take a look at it and if you’re having problems with the html, I’d be more than happy to help you out with any little tips that I have found.
