so today sucked up one side and down the other, f’real.
on the one hand i got to talk to my midget, and i loves my midget. but on the other hand the world is trying to eat me, and homey don’t play that. not. at. all.
except the world didn’t get that memo and proceeded to crush me anyway. so for some reason i forgotted to turn off my cellphone this morning and such (most likely cuz i was still drunkified from last night’s revelry at the field) and my moms called all ‘can you come home today?(friday)’ and i was thinking what the hell? but ok.
commence going downhill…
so basically, after the convo with my moms i got all nauseous and worryful. but i didn’t know what it was. so i worked and whatnot, but it had taken so long to get confirmation that i *would* get the days i requested off from work, ya know. because i’m new there and don’t know if i would be able to take the days off. luckily i got them, but like, last minute. ticket purchasing is practically nonexistent at that point, ya know.
so i calls my moms from work. suspicions confirmed: my daddy is in the hospital.
my. daddy.
there was mention of a ‘surgical proceedure’ and whatnot and basically they didn’t want to ‘worry me’ so they said nothing. isn’t that lovely of them? i fucking hate when they do this to me, i’m not a fucking child, damnit! it worries me more when they get all fucking vague and don’t tell me what the hell is going on. seriously, i fucking hate when theydo shit like this to me. i can’t fucking stand it.
so then i’m frantically trying to get a plane ticket home, and fuck a return of the king, i’ll see that movie some other time. fuck it right in the fucking ear, yo. like nobody’s business. and so i’m all nauseous and worried and swamped at work and generally freaking the fuck right out and i finally talk to my parents when i get home…the possibility of a friday night flight after work is gone. it’s not possible, too fucking last minute.
suck suck suck.
but ay dios, my daddy. how he sounded on the phone…*cries* what the hell, people!? what the hell!? it’s not fucking right. he just…my daddy…
i know he’s old, but he’s my daddy. what the hell. it’s just not right.
and so *of course* i’m a giant mess and all freaking out and worrying so hardcore that i’m literally making myself sick, and then the rockstar calls. because of a phone mishap last night he had im’d me while i was at work and i didn’t get it until i got home. so i bought my ticket, talked to the midget and the phone rings and while his voice was all i wanted to hear while i was busy falling apart, he was a general douche about things. he says he was trying to make me feel better, take my mind off things and whatnot. but you know, he did it in that typically male insensitive douchebag way. *cries* and of course i ended up crying…a lot.
i hate that.
and then he spent the rest of the evening im’ing me…’trying to help’.
and of course i had to hear the same old song and dance about how he cares about me and his feelings for me didn’t change but we fought too much and we didn’t get a long and blah blah blah blah ‘i’m going to rip your heart to shreds all over again’ blah.
yeah. good times.
fuck.
and i still have to pack.
memo to christmas: you suck.
