Sometimes, you've just got to deal with stress by telling people how you're feeling.
And in today's edition of Completely Unsurprising News Is Completely Unsurprising, my parents have thus far spent the entire day being utter fail! :D
And by utter fail, I mean my father has apparently forgotten yet again, for the nth fucking time, that he does not live here anymore and has not for a good five years or so now, and has been chilling here at the house for hours and hours, thereby stranding me upstairs as I am the only one in the entire fucking family with the good sense to avoid him! :D
Needless to say, frustrated Jacey was frusted.
Except, as is her wont, Jacey was also in a very sillybouncy mood otherwise!
So what does Jacey do?
Jacks up her volume, puts Never Gonna Give You Up on repeat, and promptly proceeds to rickroll the hell out of them.
(And, actually, probably half the street as well, as the windows are open, but y'know.)
Yeah. 8)
BUT WAIT~* THERE'S MORE~*
I was expecting screaming within minutes, as that's what happens when I have my music even half that loud, but much to my surprise, it took far longer than I had anticipated for my mother to even get her arse upstairs!
When she eventually did, she poked her head in here, asked me what I was giggling over, and then simply told me my music was too loud, ALL WITHOUT SCREAMING.
Typically, my own reaction, apart from the obvious mild surprise, was to merely continue sipping my coffee and cheerfully rickrolling away.
But of course, it did not take long for the real yelling to finally begin!
She yelled for me. I turned the music down. She yelled for me again. I called back and informed that no, really, I'd already gone and turned it down. She yelled again, this time for me to come here.
And so off I went, and found my mother in the bathroom!
Where she promptly began to throw a blow-out raegtastic fit at me, but not over a certain Mr. Astley!
Nonono.
My mother had decided to yell at me about the bloody bathtub.
...
Yes.
The bathtub.
Out of absolute fucking nowhere.
I got a tirade on how "filthy" it apparently was. (Which it was not. There were like two or three of my hairs in it from where I'd just showered a bit before. That was all.) I got a tirade on how I was apparently "ruining" her good towels, because I guess even she couldn't work up the enthusiasm to continue screaming about a few shed strands of hair. I was informed that I "have not been this filthy since [I was] a little girl." (Fair enough, when you take into account the fact I really do have much longer hair now than I did back then!)
I did absolutely nothing but :| at her and bend down to clean said hairs up, not even arguing or attempting to defend myself, and she spat that I was, and I quote, "hateful."
I then left the room, still :|ing hatefully away, and returned a bit later, once she had vacated it herself after apparently giving the dog a bath.
Only to find that the bathtub now really was filthy, the entire floor was strewn about with sopping wet towels, the rugs were sopping, and I did not want to even touch so much as the bottle of soap.
Because yes.
My mother had indeed screamed at me to clean out the tub just so that she could go and bathe the dog in it and make a proper mess of the entire bathroom itself.
But on the bright side, at least this time it wasn't lasagna.
And by utter fail, I mean my father has apparently forgotten yet again, for the nth fucking time, that he does not live here anymore and has not for a good five years or so now, and has been chilling here at the house for hours and hours, thereby stranding me upstairs as I am the only one in the entire fucking family with the good sense to avoid him! :D
Needless to say, frustrated Jacey was frusted.
Except, as is her wont, Jacey was also in a very sillybouncy mood otherwise!
So what does Jacey do?
Jacks up her volume, puts Never Gonna Give You Up on repeat, and promptly proceeds to rickroll the hell out of them.
(And, actually, probably half the street as well, as the windows are open, but y'know.)
Yeah. 8)
BUT WAIT~* THERE'S MORE~*
I was expecting screaming within minutes, as that's what happens when I have my music even half that loud, but much to my surprise, it took far longer than I had anticipated for my mother to even get her arse upstairs!
When she eventually did, she poked her head in here, asked me what I was giggling over, and then simply told me my music was too loud, ALL WITHOUT SCREAMING.
Typically, my own reaction, apart from the obvious mild surprise, was to merely continue sipping my coffee and cheerfully rickrolling away.
But of course, it did not take long for the real yelling to finally begin!
She yelled for me. I turned the music down. She yelled for me again. I called back and informed that no, really, I'd already gone and turned it down. She yelled again, this time for me to come here.
And so off I went, and found my mother in the bathroom!
Where she promptly began to throw a blow-out raegtastic fit at me, but not over a certain Mr. Astley!
Nonono.
My mother had decided to yell at me about the bloody bathtub.
...
Yes.
The bathtub.
Out of absolute fucking nowhere.
I got a tirade on how "filthy" it apparently was. (Which it was not. There were like two or three of my hairs in it from where I'd just showered a bit before. That was all.) I got a tirade on how I was apparently "ruining" her good towels, because I guess even she couldn't work up the enthusiasm to continue screaming about a few shed strands of hair. I was informed that I "have not been this filthy since [I was] a little girl." (Fair enough, when you take into account the fact I really do have much longer hair now than I did back then!)
I did absolutely nothing but :| at her and bend down to clean said hairs up, not even arguing or attempting to defend myself, and she spat that I was, and I quote, "hateful."
I then left the room, still :|ing hatefully away, and returned a bit later, once she had vacated it herself after apparently giving the dog a bath.
Only to find that the bathtub now really was filthy, the entire floor was strewn about with sopping wet towels, the rugs were sopping, and I did not want to even touch so much as the bottle of soap.
Because yes.
My mother had indeed screamed at me to clean out the tub just so that she could go and bathe the dog in it and make a proper mess of the entire bathroom itself.
But on the bright side, at least this time it wasn't lasagna.