Being home reminds me of the movie The Money Pit with Tom Hanks and Shelley Long. They had the same problem of getting people to come to their newly bought house to fix it. When they would finally find people it would cost them an assload of money, and they said it would take them two weeks to finish the house. Well six months later, tension, stress, and everything else later, the house is still under construction. The two main characters are at each others necks, ready to kill each other. They just down right hate each other. There is not a moment in time that goes by where they do not fight.
Now, fast forward to today, a real life situation. My dad is still out of work. He’s had a few job offers already, but refuses to take them. Taking his sweet time with finishing off this house.
We’re shit poor right now, out of money because he pretty much spent it on beer (no lie). When we buy food now, for the most part, money is taken out of the company we own. When you do that the government taxes you 57% of what’s taken out. That’s insane, because we just got a bill for 2700$ the other week for the money we took out.
There is no A/C in this house. Only two fans–one in my grandmother’s room, and one in the room I’m in (my parent’s new room). I don’t even get the use the fan because my dad is always taken it whenever he works.
The only time I get a moment of peace is when I’m down at Rutgers for that job training shit. It’s nice and cool down there in their air conditioned room. It’s pretty much the only place I’m sane too. Being here at home drives me insane.
Nothing I do pleases my father except when I get him a bottle of beer. I get a thank you.
Yesterday, there was a shit load of garbage that needed to be dumped. It was left over garbage from the people who did the stone work on the house. Sure enough my dad is just standing there watching me load up everything on the truck. My brother was helping on and off as he works out constantly now. Well, my dad had all the time in the world to tell me I was packing the back of the truck wrong. No, he doesn’t. When it’s about time to go to the dump before it closes he’s like, “You fucking did it wrong.” Plus a few other words and phases that I rather not mention. Goes off on me, mom, Paul. Calling us no good, worthless beings. He’s such a hypocrite. I swear. He wants everything perfect, except when he does things. He’s allowed to make mistakes, then when he does he blames it on everyone else. Shit I know I’m not perfect. Hell, I’ll admit I’m stupid when it comes to most things.
Also, I swear he has super hearing. At night, I’m sure everyone likes to do their thing. I just happen to sit on here at night and listen to music or watch a movie or TV show on the desktop. I don’t have a pair of speakers connected to this thing. Instead I use a pair of headphones. He bitches to me today about how I blast whatever I’m listening to on the computer. Bull-fucking-shit. This is coming from a guy who falls asleep with the TV on volume on 110 out of 100. How in the world can you hear what I have on my headphones? They are low enough as it is. So now I’m not allowed to listen to anything at night because it bothers him.
Don’t even get me started on the beer either. We have two refrigerators filled with that shit. One night about a month ago I go to take one, my mother comes storming out of her room telling me to put the beer back. Like what the hell? It’s not like I drink every single day. Last time I drank something was back in college, two weeks before exams. So I’m not allowed to drink.
You guys and girls should have seen it when a friend of mine stopped by unexpectedly. All they did was say hi. My parents saw me taking a break, man I got yelled at right in front of my friend. Like seriously. I’m trapped at home. The only time I seriously told them I was going to hang out with a friend was on July 4. I went to hang out with JKLM at his fireplace. Even then that wasn’t until 4:30, so I worked my ass off before leaving.
So in response to xTina (renamed by someone using my cell phone a while back), this is why I do not recommend you coming here to visit me. To Miss Compy and everyone else, this is why I always say I’ll come down instead. Lie my ass off to my parents just to see friends, it’s pretty sad. Then they constantly ask me why I don’t bring friends over, like my brother. Get a fucking clue. I’ll say my brother is brave. He has them come over in packs, so they barely yell at him while they are there. Even then, my brother brings beautiful teenage girls, dare I say, but my father will be out there on the deck just looking at them. It’s sickening. Get a life dude. Drunk ass mother fucker.
Â I shall end this entry now as my FATHER is calling me again. It’s probably another beer because it’s just too hot here. Here’s a hint, install the central air, like you said you would. You’re the asshole who told us to throw out all 3 A/C units we had for each floor. You’re the jerk-off who had us throw out all 9 fans we had. You’re lucky your wife kept just the two fans. Prick. It’s also pretty sad to see my mom standing by him, as much as she bitches about him.