April has been wonderful so far. I didn't think it would be. I washed my hair at 1:00 AM because I knew I would be getting up a little later than planned to start my day. But that problem never occurred, because I barely slept; which of course put me in a grouchy morning mood. Honestly, I thought today would suck, and I would go into a few billion stores and come home empty-handed. But, today was my lucky day! I no longer need to rely on video sites to watch Tangled. I am a proud DVD copy owner. It's still all nicely wrapped up in its plastic, proudly situated on my bookshelf where I keep only the best movies I own. It comes right after the Shrek series and the sequel featuring Puss in Boots. The cat in the hat.
I also got to satisfy my craving for a chicken burger, even though it came from a restaurant from where my family never wants to order again. The burger was a bit greasy, and the meat was a bit tough, but I devoured it before going to the next store (but maybe that's because my mother waited as I finished chewing the last few bites). And just when I thought my day was done, I even got to order a Sprite.
My brother bought the third season of The Walking Dead. He doesn't want to watch it tonight, or even wait until Sunday to see it. He said he bought it because he knew I wanted to see it. Isn't that nice? And then, after an unproductive nap (which was nice to try to take anyway), I made my bed and hung up my receipt for Tangled, and with only seconds to spare my brother knocked on my door and said the pot roast was ready. I love pot roast! And it's really, really good dipped in instant potatoes.
Now, in all my lonesome, I'm off to watch the first episode of Season Three of The Walking Dead. I was going to sneak in some golden bars, even though I'm not technically allowed to be eating in here (even though it is my room and I'm a legal adult paying rent). But, one tiny square won't be enough for an hour, so I'm just going to refill my water and toddle off without my favorite dessert (like a good little girl). You know, even if I do crumb on the floor, which doesn't happen if you break it off over a bowl and keep a hand under it until it's in your mouth, which I do; it's not like we don't have a vacuum. (And today, I'm not even wearing a dress. Know what I mean?) I mean, I have just as much free will as you. I'm twenty-one years, four months and twenty-six days old; and I have to abide by these kiddy rules. Like earlier today, Mom didn't even want me to sit in the car by myself; which I've done so many times that I couldn't even try to count each occasion. The doors do lock, and I was sitting behind one of those annoying windows for kids, the ones that don't go all the way down. My brother tried sticking up for me; but because their store was closed she didn't have to leave me by myself. She backed out of her parking stall and drove to another store; and for the rest of the day, if I didn't get out of the car, someone stayed with me.
I guess I do need to move out to taste some freedom. That stinks, because my stepfather once tried to get my thirty-something year-old brother to sit in Santa's lap; and back then she would give us more freedom. I swear, she's working in reverse. She wasn't this protective of me as a kid. I mean, she was protective, and she did go the extra mile. But now she's running laps around the border. "I don't want you sitting in the car alone." "I don't want to see dishes anywhere except in the kitchen and dining room!" "I'm keeping a chart of when everyone takes a shower." "Write down every time you get dizzy. And your period!"
Christ Almighty, I'm going mad. I mean today, I had to start an argument just so she would make my stop. She was expecting me to just submissively accept the fact that everyone's plans are being executed except for mine. No. I'm tired of being unheard. I just wanted a movie, I knew exactly where I could find it, I was able to afford it on my own dime, I didn't get any sleep because I was anticipating this day for a week, and I washed my hair at 1 friggin AM; make the damn stop.
So. Anyway. Today we passed by this place; and I saw a very disturbing license plate. I won't give out the numbers, for the safety of whomever owns that car. But the first word was my stepfather's name. The last letters were my initials. That pissed me off. It was the last thing I wanted to see. Maybe I'm superstitious, but I kind of saw it as a sign that he's just not dead yet. My mom told me it was a coincidence, don't get so mad; so I said, "Wouldn't you, if those initials were yours?" And of course, she didn't answer, so I knew I'd said the right thing.
I don't mean I want him to be dead. My heart is unfortunately not made of stone, I do miss him. But he was a jerk. And ever since he died, I've been having vivid dreams where he stumbles into our path and I yell at him for faking his death and my sister and I are beating on him with our sticks. And there's a lot of cussing and crying and then my sister welcomes him back into her life and I still want to beat something up, but she's not letting me. And I've been getting texts and phone calls from his number, and now I see that stupid license plate! All coincidence? Even though he'd been thought as dead before?
A quote from Rat Race comes to mind, said by my favorite character: "You can't kill him, he's like a cockroach!" Not that I ever beat him up (with anything except a purse, because he once came up from behind me in a store, matching my speed, which you do not do to a girl walking all by herself) or tried to kill him, but my point is that I just don't believe he's dead. I know he wasn't an immortal, he either is dead or will be someday, but I just don't believe he's gone just yet. Sue me.
I also got to satisfy my craving for a chicken burger, even though it came from a restaurant from where my family never wants to order again. The burger was a bit greasy, and the meat was a bit tough, but I devoured it before going to the next store (but maybe that's because my mother waited as I finished chewing the last few bites). And just when I thought my day was done, I even got to order a Sprite.
My brother bought the third season of The Walking Dead. He doesn't want to watch it tonight, or even wait until Sunday to see it. He said he bought it because he knew I wanted to see it. Isn't that nice? And then, after an unproductive nap (which was nice to try to take anyway), I made my bed and hung up my receipt for Tangled, and with only seconds to spare my brother knocked on my door and said the pot roast was ready. I love pot roast! And it's really, really good dipped in instant potatoes.
Now, in all my lonesome, I'm off to watch the first episode of Season Three of The Walking Dead. I was going to sneak in some golden bars, even though I'm not technically allowed to be eating in here (even though it is my room and I'm a legal adult paying rent). But, one tiny square won't be enough for an hour, so I'm just going to refill my water and toddle off without my favorite dessert (like a good little girl). You know, even if I do crumb on the floor, which doesn't happen if you break it off over a bowl and keep a hand under it until it's in your mouth, which I do; it's not like we don't have a vacuum. (And today, I'm not even wearing a dress. Know what I mean?) I mean, I have just as much free will as you. I'm twenty-one years, four months and twenty-six days old; and I have to abide by these kiddy rules. Like earlier today, Mom didn't even want me to sit in the car by myself; which I've done so many times that I couldn't even try to count each occasion. The doors do lock, and I was sitting behind one of those annoying windows for kids, the ones that don't go all the way down. My brother tried sticking up for me; but because their store was closed she didn't have to leave me by myself. She backed out of her parking stall and drove to another store; and for the rest of the day, if I didn't get out of the car, someone stayed with me.
I guess I do need to move out to taste some freedom. That stinks, because my stepfather once tried to get my thirty-something year-old brother to sit in Santa's lap; and back then she would give us more freedom. I swear, she's working in reverse. She wasn't this protective of me as a kid. I mean, she was protective, and she did go the extra mile. But now she's running laps around the border. "I don't want you sitting in the car alone." "I don't want to see dishes anywhere except in the kitchen and dining room!" "I'm keeping a chart of when everyone takes a shower." "Write down every time you get dizzy. And your period!"
Christ Almighty, I'm going mad. I mean today, I had to start an argument just so she would make my stop. She was expecting me to just submissively accept the fact that everyone's plans are being executed except for mine. No. I'm tired of being unheard. I just wanted a movie, I knew exactly where I could find it, I was able to afford it on my own dime, I didn't get any sleep because I was anticipating this day for a week, and I washed my hair at 1 friggin AM; make the damn stop.
So. Anyway. Today we passed by this place; and I saw a very disturbing license plate. I won't give out the numbers, for the safety of whomever owns that car. But the first word was my stepfather's name. The last letters were my initials. That pissed me off. It was the last thing I wanted to see. Maybe I'm superstitious, but I kind of saw it as a sign that he's just not dead yet. My mom told me it was a coincidence, don't get so mad; so I said, "Wouldn't you, if those initials were yours?" And of course, she didn't answer, so I knew I'd said the right thing.
I don't mean I want him to be dead. My heart is unfortunately not made of stone, I do miss him. But he was a jerk. And ever since he died, I've been having vivid dreams where he stumbles into our path and I yell at him for faking his death and my sister and I are beating on him with our sticks. And there's a lot of cussing and crying and then my sister welcomes him back into her life and I still want to beat something up, but she's not letting me. And I've been getting texts and phone calls from his number, and now I see that stupid license plate! All coincidence? Even though he'd been thought as dead before?
A quote from Rat Race comes to mind, said by my favorite character: "You can't kill him, he's like a cockroach!" Not that I ever beat him up (with anything except a purse, because he once came up from behind me in a store, matching my speed, which you do not do to a girl walking all by herself) or tried to kill him, but my point is that I just don't believe he's dead. I know he wasn't an immortal, he either is dead or will be someday, but I just don't believe he's gone just yet. Sue me.
I know his name, and your initials; I would assume that the owner of that car just wanted to use the word JOKERS (but maybe such a word wasn't allowed, or already used, so they had to use extra letters?)
ReplyDeleteNo extra letters. :(
ReplyDelete