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Tuesday, September 05, 2006 


I hate it when my mom is worried, because it makes me worried. I hate it when my aunt calls to tell me that she is worried about my mom, and have I heard from her? Because my aunt's been leaving messages all day with no reply. I hate it when I call my dad and my dad's all, "Der, I'm a man. I haven't heard from your mom all day, does this signify the possibility of a problem? Der... I'm a man."

So of course I say, "No, no problem dad. It's just, you know, a big day, and we thought we'd hear from her."

And then I quickly hang up and call back the aunt who let's out a sigh and says, "Well, that's even worse."

No der. My mom's irritated with me and my never ending, how are we going to fix this problem solving attitude that she helped create by continuously berating me for any sort of whining without problem solving activities that I might have been stupid enough to participate in as a youth.

Now she hates that I won't take a lot of shit, even though she will, and even though she wants me to shut the fuck up about everyone respecting everyone's rights while standing up for my own.

Translation: Everyone in the free world can call my mother and ask her how she's doing... but not me. I have to wait for an fyi call from family members that never really bother to keep me in the loop.

And now here I am.


I'm sure she'll call sometime after eight. In the meantime I'm going to take some tylenol. Pfft.


I Can't Help You Now - Look, I have two songs on my hard drive that don't have the name 'iTunes' tatooed to their asses, so suck it
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