Well fuck in a bucket, I feel horrible squared. Fate's given me a big ol' kick in zie balls. My other grandma passed away this week, making the score death: 4, grandparents: 0. So I've been in Chicago for the past two days attending her wake and funeral. That would've been bad enough, but I was [and still am] sick with a nasty biznatch of a cold, to boot. And of course there was plenty of family drama, which is the worst kind. My aunt is being a bitch and my dad is going fucking insane. Yesterday, after we got back home, my dad found an empty hot dog box in the fridge device that someone forgot to throw out, so he found it necessary to scream at my brother and me and then dash to the bar to drink till 2 in the morning. This is his solution for most problems. Needless to say, (6 hour road trip + plague + funeral) x pissed alcoholic = a very miserable me.
But wait! The plot thickens...like some sort of gay stew! Items in my mom's purse include: wallet, kleenex, chapstick, keys and a cassette titled "Hope for the Homosexual: Finding Your Moral Compass-Part 4." Um, double take! Jigga-what? I know my mom isn't thrilled about my choice in lifestyle, but I had no idea she would go so far as to buy this religious drivel to try and "save" me. I just wanna punch something...namely the priest who's distributing this hogwash. I listened to the tape to see what shitty sermon is crawling around in the mama machine's head and I came very close to vomiting after it was done. No lie. The jackass on the tape was riding the ignoramus express, 4 realz. I'm not gonna go into details, but if his sermon were congress, the majority would be the shitocrats. It'd definitely be a good idea to talk to my mom about this and prevent her from becoming a complete homophobic psycho, but I'm a bit afeared. We're about as close as China and Paraguay and we've never talked about this. Basically I came out to her, she was a bitch for two days, and now we act like it never happened. And I also act like Melancholy Boy whenever I'm around her because...well, I don't exactly know. I'm just constantly annoyed by her and hate being around her. Call it teenager syndrome deluxe. I don't know if I have the strength to confront her about this, so I think I'm going to wait until either my bitterness cools down or I find it necessary to talk to her. For right now, screeeeew it! [Oh, and if you were wondering how I would know what's in my mom's purse, she had my brother clean it out for her and he found it, eventually telling me...who do you think I am? Gollum?]
Thanks again to everybody who commented on my last entry...you guys are so incredibly supportive and amazing and squeeeeee! I love you all. It may just be the sickness talking, but I think I'm going to give it a rest with lover boy. The ever-helpful Mr. J to the eff had a good point when he said I shouldn't be worrying about if I'm good enough for him, but if he's good enough for me. And by George, I don't think he IS good enough for me! I was so desperate for a friend of the boy variety that I blinded myself to the fact that this guy really isn't that groovy. I was drawn like a moth into the light, but instead I was a homo being drawn into the cute! So I've decided I could do better and am basically going to slap a fat "jk!" on this whole business. There are other fish in the sea and I don't want this lame tuna fish of a gay boy...I want Flipper, damn it! (Oh yeah, he's not a fish...oh wellz, close enough...)
And this whole escapade left me feeling really insecure, too. Like whenever I looked into the mirror I saw a fugly person staring back and I was constantly worrying about how I was coming off to this guy...did he think I was weird? Annoying? Ugly? A freak? Those thoughts just aren't healthy. They do nothing for nobody. So ex-ne on anybody who gives me low self-esteem-ne.
Mmmm, I feel much better now. Kudos if you read all the way through this bitch! Catch you cool cats later!