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Fuck you too.
Aug. 26th, 2002 11:41 amSo my mother wakes me up at 9 AM today and tells me to tell my stepfather that hey, those fee bills for university need to be paid.
Fuck you, mom.
Why didn't they pay these already? I got them at the beginning of August. I told them when I got them. I reminded them not once, but twice. After all, I don't have access to the trust fund or whatever that they're paying for university out of. I told them that cheques were due August 26.
But did they pay them? No. So my mom, on her way out the door for work, tells me to tell my dad that they need to be paid.
So fuck you, mom.
Dad wakes up and I tell him this. Predictably, he is furious. So we spend the next two hours going from place to place. Start at the library for photocopies, library's closed. Swearing ensues (on his part. I kept quiet). Go to 7-11, make copies, mail the promissory note (that I will admit to being my fault). Head to the ATM - ATM is out of envelopes. At this point he's screeching around tight, hard-to-see-around corners in the parking lot of the Blockbustre's at 60 kph, swearing. I swear to god I was afraid we were going to crash or roll over or something.
So fuck you, dad.
Eventually we get it paid, but I don't think he did it right, but I sure as hell am not going to say anything because if I do he'll scream at me more, and it's just not fucking well worth it.
Fuck you, dad.
And here comes the clincher: it's my fault. Forget that I reminded them, forget that I'm not the one paying, forget that I can't access the fund they set up for me. It's still my fucking fault. Somehow.
Fuck you both.
Fuck you, mom.
Why didn't they pay these already? I got them at the beginning of August. I told them when I got them. I reminded them not once, but twice. After all, I don't have access to the trust fund or whatever that they're paying for university out of. I told them that cheques were due August 26.
But did they pay them? No. So my mom, on her way out the door for work, tells me to tell my dad that they need to be paid.
So fuck you, mom.
Dad wakes up and I tell him this. Predictably, he is furious. So we spend the next two hours going from place to place. Start at the library for photocopies, library's closed. Swearing ensues (on his part. I kept quiet). Go to 7-11, make copies, mail the promissory note (that I will admit to being my fault). Head to the ATM - ATM is out of envelopes. At this point he's screeching around tight, hard-to-see-around corners in the parking lot of the Blockbustre's at 60 kph, swearing. I swear to god I was afraid we were going to crash or roll over or something.
So fuck you, dad.
Eventually we get it paid, but I don't think he did it right, but I sure as hell am not going to say anything because if I do he'll scream at me more, and it's just not fucking well worth it.
Fuck you, dad.
And here comes the clincher: it's my fault. Forget that I reminded them, forget that I'm not the one paying, forget that I can't access the fund they set up for me. It's still my fucking fault. Somehow.
Fuck you both.
