Someone needs to hand my mom a prozac, because she is being way too sensitive for her own good. I got out of the shower, looked in the cabinet for peroxide (I cut my foot earlier today), noticed it was missing, and went to ask her where it was. She told me that it was now being stored under the sink.
Actually, what she said was, �Isn�t it under the sink?�
Well, why would I look there, as for about 16 years it has been stored in the cabinet?
My response was, �Oh, that�s where we keep it now.�
Her response to my response was, �Don�t be snotty.�
What�in�.the�.fuck?
I was talking to myself, for one, and two, I was only reaffirming what she said. I didn�t say it with any kind of tone. I didn�t say it with sarcasm. And you know what? What the fuck?
Then I said, �I�m not being snotty, Mom. I�m talking to myself.�
�Well, you make it seem like I always move things around.�
Um�you do.
Let�s see.
I�ve found my hairspray in the basement (she �borrowed� it to treat some of my clothes and never bothered to return it to me. Thus, I ended up buying more because I had no idea what happened to it). I�ve found my magazines in paper bags ready for donation. I�ve found my jewelry in things that I would never in a million years store jewelry in. I�ve found my clothes in her room. The peroxide isn�t stored in the bathroom. The bleach isn�t stored near the laundry stuff.
So�.why would I ever question her arranging logic?
It�s starting to piss me off.
Oh�we can�t forget that one day, she just decided that she didn�t like how my books were arranged and decided to move them.
Dear Lord, I need to move out.
I was really upset to see the weekend peter off into the week. I had an amazing weekend. Friday, I went to JaydeKitten�s place to play board games, which, of course, involved me somehow making a fool of myself. Though, I have become a fan of the game Cranium now, and I have to say�.there are some really intelligent board-gamers out there. I, unfortunately, am not one of them. My usual rules of anti-logic and slow-thinking apply to the wonderful world of board games as well.
On Sunday, I went to the Renaissance Festival for the first time with B, his friend, his friend�s girlfriend, and his mother. I didn�t quite know what to expect, but as soon as lunch hit, I was having a grand old time.
Though�.all the wine may have played a part�.
We went to this like�.six course dinner that essentially mimics eating at a royal feast. There was a Baron, a Baroness, a Princess�.and some little kid that I believe was some kind of lady-in-waiting�.
Anyway, the �royalty� looked the part, played the part, and was highly entertaining. Of course, there were many a serving wench to keep my wine goblet perpetually full, which, of course, added to the jovialness of the occasion.
After the dinner, I was lead, practically stumbling, to the bathrooms. When we got back, it turned out that B�s mom had some kind of��.well�.person talking to her. I thought to myself, �wow, he�s been talking to her for a long time��
Then: �Hmm�he knows B�s and my names��
Then: �Hmm�he�s got one of those ropes that they�.oh bloody hell.�
We were arrested.
I had the oh-so-hilariously pleasant experience of having to dance on command to get out of prison, with the damning evidence of a camera to prove it.
The rest of the day was spent with a lot of wandering, talking, window-shopping, and then, eventually, passing out from all the sun and liquor.
Definitely a good time.
And since Monday was not eventful, I�m not going to make this entry painfully long�.
