I fell asleep around six and woke up at nine. It was a very unpleasant, short night; so I'm going to retire very soon. I just need to clean up my room...or maybe that will wait until I can keep my eyes open. I don't know why everybody wants me up and about. It's not like my life is important - I mean, it is, that's why I'm here; but it just looks so bleak and boring. So really, if I'm going to waste it away, why not waste it away sleeping? At least then I feel healthy.
Man, I could really go for two or three burgers and a nice big glass of chocolate milk. Or, some chicken and a frosty glass of cold pop. That would be so, so nice. Hell, the only reason I ate today was because my mother's boss paid her a check, which bounced after she cashed it. Now I feel bad for eating because it's illegal food and she could go to jail for his dumb mistake. I really hope they can clear that.
Oh, what? Looking at me like I'm dumb for posting it here. In Siberia! No one reads this crap. That's what makes it crap.
Oh, and little pointer: When your drunk mom decides to make a meal, for the love of God, don't eat it. She fried up this Alfredo sauce - yes, fried up, in a frying pan - mixed with these veggies and onions and honestly, it stank like hot vomit. I told her that and I told her I was not going to eat it. Boy, honesty felt great. I am not going to lie about someone's cooking or their hair ever again. It's so nice to get out of my shadow. When my stepfather was around, it was like a prison at home. We couldn't touch the mandolin, or play cards in the den, or in the living room, or laugh, or whistle, or watch anything on television. He was like a really mean Red Forman.
Oh, God, burgers and chocolate milk sound so gooood! Why, why, why did she park the car for winter? Just because you don't want to pay for insurance, doesn't mean you can't drive. It's not even snowing. She thinks you'll get arrested for not having it. Not only have I never, ever heard of that happening; but Canada doesn't even keep murderers behind bars. Stupid Canada.
Speaking of murder, I have eight hours to kill before The Big Bang Theory. So, I'm going to bed. Because I'm tired, and life is going in a big circle. To the sound of a drain. Ho, ho, ho.
Man, I could really go for two or three burgers and a nice big glass of chocolate milk. Or, some chicken and a frosty glass of cold pop. That would be so, so nice. Hell, the only reason I ate today was because my mother's boss paid her a check, which bounced after she cashed it. Now I feel bad for eating because it's illegal food and she could go to jail for his dumb mistake. I really hope they can clear that.
Oh, what? Looking at me like I'm dumb for posting it here. In Siberia! No one reads this crap. That's what makes it crap.
Oh, and little pointer: When your drunk mom decides to make a meal, for the love of God, don't eat it. She fried up this Alfredo sauce - yes, fried up, in a frying pan - mixed with these veggies and onions and honestly, it stank like hot vomit. I told her that and I told her I was not going to eat it. Boy, honesty felt great. I am not going to lie about someone's cooking or their hair ever again. It's so nice to get out of my shadow. When my stepfather was around, it was like a prison at home. We couldn't touch the mandolin, or play cards in the den, or in the living room, or laugh, or whistle, or watch anything on television. He was like a really mean Red Forman.
Oh, God, burgers and chocolate milk sound so gooood! Why, why, why did she park the car for winter? Just because you don't want to pay for insurance, doesn't mean you can't drive. It's not even snowing. She thinks you'll get arrested for not having it. Not only have I never, ever heard of that happening; but Canada doesn't even keep murderers behind bars. Stupid Canada.
Speaking of murder, I have eight hours to kill before The Big Bang Theory. So, I'm going to bed. Because I'm tired, and life is going in a big circle. To the sound of a drain. Ho, ho, ho.
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