(no subject)
I really want to be in a home- my home.
I iterated to Mark last night, lying in bed, "No Mark, this is not my home; it's where I sleep." It's very true, I have no ral home. I won't until the end of the month, at least. But I basically have been home less since the beginning of May, perhaps even late April.
The lowdown: The pregnant Indian bitch that my mom was renting a room from until move-in day, was a fucking cunt, my mom ran away after the pregnant cunt basically kicked her out for refusing to pay in cash every single night to stay there. (That's not tenant business runs, folks.) As a last resort, my mom stayed on the slutty couch, that has housed of the likes of sir Justin Joseph himself, in the living room. Mark's roommate, Gemma, was out of town when this event decided to suddenly take place. Since day one, that my mom resorted to having to sleep on that awful dusty, smelly, cigarette-burned stained couch, she had been looking for a another room to go to until move-in day. Prices are ridiculous for renting out single rooms here in the big city, so naturally, it has taken a while- she finally found a room, and by the time she can proceed and temporarily move in, it'll be a mere twelve, maybe fourteen days. Now..does anyone really think that my mother, a grown woman, whose used to a queen sized bed and a six bedroom house, wanted to ever really have to resort to living on a couch with two stoner drunk, underage community college kids whose parents finance their entire lives at their will, just because they wanted to move to New York and go to an illegitemate school?
Of course not.
Well, Gemma's obviously fed up with my mom's presence. It hinders on her drinking habits of staying up all night getting wasted with her guy friends. She bugs Mark, who bugs me AND my mom, telling her that she needs to go, when, my mom since the first night she had to move in to the couch, had been looking for a decent priced room. He basically treated my mom and I, because of the unexpected hindrance, like shit. As if we were doing absolutely nothing to fix the sitatuation, and just being complacent.
Anyway...drama. I fucking hate that shit.
Mark and I are constantly tested with abrupt, ridiculous instances like these, where it seems that our relationship is being not necessarily threatened, but violated (I think), due to circumstances involving his best friend/rommate. For example, last Saturday morning, I had called Mark from Manhattan to tell him to get ready because I'm quickly stopping by to pick him up and go see an apartment (which is actually the one that we are now moving in to). As usual, Mark's phone was off and he was still asleep when it was already the early afternoon, so I couldn't get through to him on the phone. I rush in to the apartment, scrambling to get him up and ready to leave so that we won't be late, and pissed, while walking to the apartment, he proceeds to tell me, "You've pissed me off, and you pissed Gemma off!"
Pause.
"Excuse me? What the fuck does Gemma have to do with the fact that she was pissed because I was rushing you because we were going to be late?!"
Basically that's how shit flies. He tells me that she doesn't like it when I'm bitching at him and whatnot (et. al., petty arguments of the old couple-type that Mark and I have all the time), and here I am thinking, "Why the fuck should I care about Gemma in these reagrds and revolve my life with my boyfriend as to not get her mad, when my boyfriend and I are having the usual heated arguements that occur every now and then?!"
It's hard to explain.
Hopefully you know what I mean.
Apparently things between Mark and I are fixed, but each day the situation between the best friend/rommate gets more awkward because of what seems to be her overwhelming presence in my relationship with my boyfriend.
I iterated to Mark last night, lying in bed, "No Mark, this is not my home; it's where I sleep." It's very true, I have no ral home. I won't until the end of the month, at least. But I basically have been home less since the beginning of May, perhaps even late April.
The lowdown: The pregnant Indian bitch that my mom was renting a room from until move-in day, was a fucking cunt, my mom ran away after the pregnant cunt basically kicked her out for refusing to pay in cash every single night to stay there. (That's not tenant business runs, folks.) As a last resort, my mom stayed on the slutty couch, that has housed of the likes of sir Justin Joseph himself, in the living room. Mark's roommate, Gemma, was out of town when this event decided to suddenly take place. Since day one, that my mom resorted to having to sleep on that awful dusty, smelly, cigarette-burned stained couch, she had been looking for a another room to go to until move-in day. Prices are ridiculous for renting out single rooms here in the big city, so naturally, it has taken a while- she finally found a room, and by the time she can proceed and temporarily move in, it'll be a mere twelve, maybe fourteen days. Now..does anyone really think that my mother, a grown woman, whose used to a queen sized bed and a six bedroom house, wanted to ever really have to resort to living on a couch with two stoner drunk, underage community college kids whose parents finance their entire lives at their will, just because they wanted to move to New York and go to an illegitemate school?
Of course not.
Well, Gemma's obviously fed up with my mom's presence. It hinders on her drinking habits of staying up all night getting wasted with her guy friends. She bugs Mark, who bugs me AND my mom, telling her that she needs to go, when, my mom since the first night she had to move in to the couch, had been looking for a decent priced room. He basically treated my mom and I, because of the unexpected hindrance, like shit. As if we were doing absolutely nothing to fix the sitatuation, and just being complacent.
Anyway...drama. I fucking hate that shit.
Mark and I are constantly tested with abrupt, ridiculous instances like these, where it seems that our relationship is being not necessarily threatened, but violated (I think), due to circumstances involving his best friend/rommate. For example, last Saturday morning, I had called Mark from Manhattan to tell him to get ready because I'm quickly stopping by to pick him up and go see an apartment (which is actually the one that we are now moving in to). As usual, Mark's phone was off and he was still asleep when it was already the early afternoon, so I couldn't get through to him on the phone. I rush in to the apartment, scrambling to get him up and ready to leave so that we won't be late, and pissed, while walking to the apartment, he proceeds to tell me, "You've pissed me off, and you pissed Gemma off!"
Pause.
"Excuse me? What the fuck does Gemma have to do with the fact that she was pissed because I was rushing you because we were going to be late?!"
Basically that's how shit flies. He tells me that she doesn't like it when I'm bitching at him and whatnot (et. al., petty arguments of the old couple-type that Mark and I have all the time), and here I am thinking, "Why the fuck should I care about Gemma in these reagrds and revolve my life with my boyfriend as to not get her mad, when my boyfriend and I are having the usual heated arguements that occur every now and then?!"
It's hard to explain.
Hopefully you know what I mean.
Apparently things between Mark and I are fixed, but each day the situation between the best friend/rommate gets more awkward because of what seems to be her overwhelming presence in my relationship with my boyfriend.