Home for the hate.
Anger strikes again!
I come home to be angry. I walked in and droped a bag of laundry down the basement stairs which is where lots of laundry is thrown. The bag tumbles down and hits a T square. "What that fuck is going on?" yells my dad then he is suprised and embarrassed when he sees it is me. He goes on to tell me that it was the second time it happened in five minutes and that he doesn't want his t to get hit. Then why didn't you move it after the first time? silence.
Lots of my stuff, stuff I regularly use when I am home has been boxed up and placed in a storage garage. It makes no sense. He placed vinyl records in the storage garage. He took everything that was on my night stand including things like alarm clocks and put them in a box and placed that box...in the storage unit. Every time I complain about it, and its been alot, he doesn't understand why I am so angry which just makes me more angry. He doesn't really understand how to use the new computer he bought and it makes me angry. When I fiddle around with it to make it easier for me and them to use he gets angry, which makes me angry. When I changed the generic, windows motif wallpaper to sourpuss, he got angry and confused...which...made...me...angry.
At the end of the day when I am tired but still want to use the computer(which my father thinks that I already, constantly use for porn) and I just want to change into some pajama pants, I discover that not only can I not find the pants, I can't even find the dresser the pants were in. I then find a box where the pants might be but the clothes are in a plastic bag. I just might have gotten so angry I flipped out briefly, tearring the plastic bag to pieces. The second I threw the bag to the ground after it released my clothes into the box the pants were on top of the clothes stack.
good-night, time for some porn.
I come home to be angry. I walked in and droped a bag of laundry down the basement stairs which is where lots of laundry is thrown. The bag tumbles down and hits a T square. "What that fuck is going on?" yells my dad then he is suprised and embarrassed when he sees it is me. He goes on to tell me that it was the second time it happened in five minutes and that he doesn't want his t to get hit. Then why didn't you move it after the first time? silence.
Lots of my stuff, stuff I regularly use when I am home has been boxed up and placed in a storage garage. It makes no sense. He placed vinyl records in the storage garage. He took everything that was on my night stand including things like alarm clocks and put them in a box and placed that box...in the storage unit. Every time I complain about it, and its been alot, he doesn't understand why I am so angry which just makes me more angry. He doesn't really understand how to use the new computer he bought and it makes me angry. When I fiddle around with it to make it easier for me and them to use he gets angry, which makes me angry. When I changed the generic, windows motif wallpaper to sourpuss, he got angry and confused...which...made...me...angry.
At the end of the day when I am tired but still want to use the computer(which my father thinks that I already, constantly use for porn) and I just want to change into some pajama pants, I discover that not only can I not find the pants, I can't even find the dresser the pants were in. I then find a box where the pants might be but the clothes are in a plastic bag. I just might have gotten so angry I flipped out briefly, tearring the plastic bag to pieces. The second I threw the bag to the ground after it released my clothes into the box the pants were on top of the clothes stack.
good-night, time for some porn.