I'm such a teenager
Sam and I aren't speaking, and I could really care less.
We got in a gigantic screaming match on the way to work yesterday. It was so middle school of us, but I don't care. She has no idea why I really can't drive. I can't drive because I sometimes don't have to focus to drive.
Plus, she makes me nervous as fuck with she's driving, because she's the typical teenage driver and refuses to acknowledge it.
She drives with one hand on the bottom of the steering wheel, she blasts her music so the deaf thirty miles away can hear it just fine, she always brings her whorish, greasy friend 'RETTA and they talk and giggle and laugh and Sam hardly ever looks at the road (which is why she hit a small animal the other night, one she claimed just "came out of nowhere", like raccoons can just suddenly appear on freeways).
She got pissed, I got pissed. When she dropped me off at work, she "apologized", but I figured correctly that she didn't mean it. When I didn't say anything (I couldn't hear anything because of the Eminem that was blaring) and got out of the car she started screaming at me. Yep, you really must be sorry. I think she just "apologized" so I wouldn't tell my parents, but I actually called my mom and told her not to have Sam drive me unless it was absolutely, 100% necessary. If she's going to make me nervous as fuck and be a total fucking bitch about it, well, fuck that.
And now we're not speaking, and she's stomping around the house like an elephant. I can't hear it, but the bulliten board on my wall sort of jumps with each step she takes. I wish she'd just leave and go to Justin's for a while or something.
Oh, wait, they must have gotten in a fight, judging by how she was sobbing last night.
I just can't learn to co-habitate with her. It's just like two summers ago when she mandatorily had to stay with us for six weeks. Except it's worse this time, because I don't have the end of the six weeks to look forward to.
We got in a gigantic screaming match on the way to work yesterday. It was so middle school of us, but I don't care. She has no idea why I really can't drive. I can't drive because I sometimes don't have to focus to drive.
Plus, she makes me nervous as fuck with she's driving, because she's the typical teenage driver and refuses to acknowledge it.
She drives with one hand on the bottom of the steering wheel, she blasts her music so the deaf thirty miles away can hear it just fine, she always brings her whorish, greasy friend 'RETTA and they talk and giggle and laugh and Sam hardly ever looks at the road (which is why she hit a small animal the other night, one she claimed just "came out of nowhere", like raccoons can just suddenly appear on freeways).
She got pissed, I got pissed. When she dropped me off at work, she "apologized", but I figured correctly that she didn't mean it. When I didn't say anything (I couldn't hear anything because of the Eminem that was blaring) and got out of the car she started screaming at me. Yep, you really must be sorry. I think she just "apologized" so I wouldn't tell my parents, but I actually called my mom and told her not to have Sam drive me unless it was absolutely, 100% necessary. If she's going to make me nervous as fuck and be a total fucking bitch about it, well, fuck that.
And now we're not speaking, and she's stomping around the house like an elephant. I can't hear it, but the bulliten board on my wall sort of jumps with each step she takes. I wish she'd just leave and go to Justin's for a while or something.
Oh, wait, they must have gotten in a fight, judging by how she was sobbing last night.
I just can't learn to co-habitate with her. It's just like two summers ago when she mandatorily had to stay with us for six weeks. Except it's worse this time, because I don't have the end of the six weeks to look forward to.