(no subject)
Ugh. There's this fat Hispanic dude on my floor. He seems like a loner/loser type person (to be honest, not to be mean). I'm sure it's somewhat funny when you think about how likely it is that every time we pass each other in the hall, we think simultaneously, "Ha-ha, look at that fatso, I'm so much better looking than he is." Unless it's my ego talking. Anyways, I was going to go study in the lounge, but he's sleeping there. Shirtless. Under a blanket. TV going full blast. Excuse me? Since when did the lounge become your room? Oh, gosh golly me, I totally forgot to note your name on the door. I could have moved a couch and studied there anyway but the whole situation was so uncomfortable I didn't bother.
So I'm studying here, in my room.
For those of you who are moderately curious, yes, my parents are here. Yes, I was right--that pounding headache was precipitated by the proximity of my progenitors. Ugh. We went to Ruby Tuesday's (I drove--Dad intimidated) for lunch, brought me here to work on my paper, went to Jack Astor's (Dad drove and intimidated), had an uncomfortable conversation, dropped me off at the dorm to finish my paper, then returned to their fiery pit, a.k.a. the EconoLodge.
Now, I hate to sound like Jack McFarland and call my parents nefarious fiends when they're nice old people, but they are! They just aren't conscious of it yet. And they play mind games. It's partly how I learned to play mind games so well--I was the victim of them growing up, more often than not. Mom told me I can't get SSI without a legitimate expense--and a car isn't one of them, insurance included. This was the only thing that made getting a car feasible--SSI to pay for the insurance. So I'm not eligible. The car is out. I will be car-less. And then, Dad says, "We'll see."
See, Mich!?! This is where I get "we'll see" from!
And I can't elicit anything else from them.
Geez, I hate mindjobs.
So I'm studying here, in my room.
For those of you who are moderately curious, yes, my parents are here. Yes, I was right--that pounding headache was precipitated by the proximity of my progenitors. Ugh. We went to Ruby Tuesday's (I drove--Dad intimidated) for lunch, brought me here to work on my paper, went to Jack Astor's (Dad drove and intimidated), had an uncomfortable conversation, dropped me off at the dorm to finish my paper, then returned to their fiery pit, a.k.a. the EconoLodge.
Now, I hate to sound like Jack McFarland and call my parents nefarious fiends when they're nice old people, but they are! They just aren't conscious of it yet. And they play mind games. It's partly how I learned to play mind games so well--I was the victim of them growing up, more often than not. Mom told me I can't get SSI without a legitimate expense--and a car isn't one of them, insurance included. This was the only thing that made getting a car feasible--SSI to pay for the insurance. So I'm not eligible. The car is out. I will be car-less. And then, Dad says, "We'll see."
See, Mich!?! This is where I get "we'll see" from!
And I can't elicit anything else from them.
Geez, I hate mindjobs.