That little whipper snapper

So Friday wasn't so good. Me and my bestie had a great time catching up and partying, but my night turned sour after I saw T. play guitar in his band. He was majestic. (Did I really just say that?) He is emotionally UNavailable and currently living with his girlfriend. I found this out at the bar when I asked his buddy if they were serious.

I was really drunk at this point. I started crying. Not extremely or obvious, but I was shedding real tears over that asshat.

Ha.

I'm pretty sure I acted a fool. All night. We even took a taxi home because I was such a drunken mess. I scarfed down half of an eggplant parmesan sub in my "glory". I passed out cold with all my jewelry on. I woke, feeling indifferent to the situation, and very very out of it. Drinking mass quantities sucks, and kills so many brain cells.
(In case you're wondering the sub was NOT good, it was greasy and gross and very very bad for me) (and you ... stay away)

Saturday was a day of recovery. I chilled out and smoked and ate some microwaved frozen foods. 

The next day was Sunday - my parents came to visit.

I'd like to just end it there but that's pointless. Their visit was just depressing. But hey I should be happy, right? I got a free dinner out of it, yay, that's what they're probably thinking though. Fuck that. I was hoping for some decent conversation or something. What I got was two very depressed people stuffed into my small studio apartment. My Dad turned on the tv before I could take off my shoes and watched football. My Mom sauntered around, looking through things and opening my fridge (wtf?) while making small talk and complimenting my mediocre interior decorating skills.

I feel sick just remembering it.

My Dad was in another world. He was there at dinner, eating, but not really there in the sense that I'd like. We could have chatted. I tried. I gave him a book for his belated birthday (which was a few days after mine, I just didn't see him) but he seemed less than thrilled about it. He gave it to my Mom to put in her purse.
He did not give me a birthday gift this year. Actually, as far back as I can remember my Dad has never specifically given me a gift from him. It was always this "joint endeavor" ... forever in my Mom's handwriting. Just like Christmas.

My relationship with my Dad reflects my relationships with most guys, most recently being T. I crave the attention of someone who does not need me. My Dad started this, by not giving me enough love and attention. I, in return, desperately did anything for his attention. It didn't work for my best interests; his response to my attempts was to get mad and ignore. Both then and now. So Little Miss Daddy Issues aka ME will do just about anything to get a guy, but it's always the guy who's so hard to reach.

Getting back to our evening...

My Aunt and her husband come out of nowhere. They were out on a drive along this route that goes for miles, from town to town and remembered that my parents were visiting me. We were in the middle of dinner and my Mom's phone rang. She answered, of course. Why wouldn't she answer her cell phone in the middle of dinner? They came to visit me in my freaking college town and neither of them wanted to be there and it sucks and it hurts but getting back to my POINT.

My Aunt, Mom, and I ended up talking a walk through this Spiritualist town located nearby. It was decent. I was aware of myself through new eyes, if that makes sense. They were acting so  ... girlish and naive. And there I was, Ms. Adventurous. Ms. Fearless. Ms. Tour Guide.

What the hell? What's with the switching up of the roles? Not that I believe in "roles" but you know? They are the saddest creatures I've seen, sadder than me, even. 

They are both (Mom & Aunt) in unhappy marriages. They're sisters. They never ever lived for themselves. It was straight into a Man's home after leaving the nest. Their nest was a dysfunctional, drunken one. But I don't have the fingers to go there. Mine are already aching from all this heavy handed typing. Heavy-hearted heated heathen, my grandfather was.

I must be feeling poetic today.

Oh. Now I remember why I began this post in the first place. My cat ~that muthafucka~ JUMPED on top of the Tv and knocked the cable box to the floor. It broke.

I rent. Do I contact my landlord or the cable company? Obviously I'll offer to pay for it but holy shit this reallllly sucks and I am not going to do a damn thing about it until later in the week. Shit. Maybe I should email my landlord tonight. 

I'm screwed.

I'm sick of it all.

I need to go take another walk. That was relaxing yesterday. I walked a couple miles yesterday and it really felt good. I am getting high again. I can't blog now. I can't live.

Think thin