I'm An Asshole. Plain and Simple.
Yesterday was my Mother's birthday. I ran my ass off getting her presents (because I couldn't find what I was looking for earlier), and was then in such a foul mood from exhaustion (for they sent me to get tons of groceries, etc as well) that I snapped at her when she asked me what took me so long/where had I been...which was the drugstore, buying her her birthday card.
I mean, could I be any more of an asshole?
I think not. Snapping at her on her birthday. What a fucking kick in the pants. Then to top it off, she snapped at me "Well fine, you don't want to be here anyway - go hang with your friends!"
And so it started...after dismal banter back and forth, escalating into my screaming "FINE! I WAS SHOPPING FOR YOUR FUCKING BIRTHDAY GIFTS, OKAY?!?!?"
Which is, of course, really the way to go if you want someone to really feel loved and cared about on their birthday. I can't blame her for then saying she really didn't want to open them.
Eventually she did, after I started crying, and she realized that I was the pathetic fuckup that I am. Funny...most people don't. I totally have them fooled - except for Pop - which burns my ass that that ornery bastard's got my number. But then again, that's why I love him so much.
Ahhh. Another holiday at the Martin household. Can't you just feel the love? Actually, there's more love in that house than in most; problem is, that we're all too fucked up to really share it without pissing each other off.
*sigh*
In other news...
Wow. Today has been surreal. In fact...(scratches chin) yesterday was as well...
Could it be that being left to her own devices, without a particular schedule to follow, the author gets lost in the activity of her mind?
Perhaps.
Or perhaps it's because estoy enmorada con un hombre...dios mio!
Totally. Completely. Haven't felt anything like it since college. Heh.
In other words, I'm fucked.
I mean, could I be any more of an asshole?
I think not. Snapping at her on her birthday. What a fucking kick in the pants. Then to top it off, she snapped at me "Well fine, you don't want to be here anyway - go hang with your friends!"
And so it started...after dismal banter back and forth, escalating into my screaming "FINE! I WAS SHOPPING FOR YOUR FUCKING BIRTHDAY GIFTS, OKAY?!?!?"
Which is, of course, really the way to go if you want someone to really feel loved and cared about on their birthday. I can't blame her for then saying she really didn't want to open them.
Eventually she did, after I started crying, and she realized that I was the pathetic fuckup that I am. Funny...most people don't. I totally have them fooled - except for Pop - which burns my ass that that ornery bastard's got my number. But then again, that's why I love him so much.
Ahhh. Another holiday at the Martin household. Can't you just feel the love? Actually, there's more love in that house than in most; problem is, that we're all too fucked up to really share it without pissing each other off.
*sigh*
In other news...
Wow. Today has been surreal. In fact...(scratches chin) yesterday was as well...
Could it be that being left to her own devices, without a particular schedule to follow, the author gets lost in the activity of her mind?
Perhaps.
Or perhaps it's because estoy enmorada con un hombre...dios mio!
Totally. Completely. Haven't felt anything like it since college. Heh.
In other words, I'm fucked.
posted by Billychic at 8:55 PM
1 Comments:
Everyone, and I mean everyone has anxiety about things, all things in the world, especially about those that we love, as well as those we don't. They know we love them, even if verbage shows not. That total miscommunication you had was just that(and bad timing). Funny thing is, the more a person acts like that, the more they seem to love us. It's a needy love, but it's still love. Better to have it than not, especially from this hombre whom you feel "enmorada" for. Don't feel fucked. Drink it in........
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