God I hate this

Intro into the world of why this blog exists: My folks found out about my DA site. That makes it just about as secretive as pudding- which anything I say actually has consequences, I can't bitch that my mom and dad are their own respective douchlords now, I can't gripe about shit without getting the phone calls, and the everlasting guilt : "Just like how you wrote about on your Deviantart page?"

She pulled that one on me. I think I went paler then my already pale tone.

So, the chronical of slow, steady decline: My mom has been trying to incorporate her boyfriend/ Usurper into the family ties. That too, works just about as well as pudding. My grandmother is furious and uneasy by the man, but being my passive grandmother, she sits there and smiles, even though she can't stand him. She and my dad are probably closer then her and my mother. When returning from the airport, she was trying to get Bruce (usurper) to drive us back, but I managed to beg otherwise. I don't want to see him. I know what his stupid bulldog-esque face looks like, and I want no part of it. I don't want to see him at christmas, I don't want to hear of him at christmas, and.. you get the picture. So when I went home this saturday, I couldn't spend any time with her, because she was out on a boat in Wisconsin with her douchelord.

My dad on the other hand, the once stone-faced facade of a machinist with no emotional ties, cries. A lot. I know I shouldn't be alarmed when he cries, but he's doing it every time I see him. Every time I answer the phone. Every time I talk to him, I can just start to hear him cry. It's the same line; either he doesn't want me to turn into my mom, i remind him too much of my mom (We look pretty similar) , or he worries i'll...something or other. Recently, while talking with him on the phone, he used is own brand of passive-aggressiveness way to convince me men do not judge as much as women does. How men are better in the way that they can rationalize things, and women are too emotional to-- that's the part where I stopped him, that I felt his 1960's brand of sexism was starting to grind my last nerve.

I informed him, politely that people are people. Everyone judges, because it's a coping mechanism, it's our way of interpreting the world, of working the social stereotypes to get a better gauge on the person in front of us. It's not necessarily the RIGHT gauge, but it's a gauge. And in a previous world of kill or be killed, that's imperative. The only real mental difference is that women pick up on the smaller details, while men are "big picture" people. I'll agree to this, we're different, but we're not different species.

He tells me I don't know what i'm talking about, that I say "I understand" But I really don't. There's nothing more frustrating that talking with a person that pretty much ignores what you've just said because he doesn't consider your opinion relevant, since, you know, you don't understand. You're only in your early twenties, you might as well be 5 years old!

it's always been like this. Enough that it's become a pet-peeve of mine. Anothe pet peeve is being a young adult, and people go "Well, your parents did a good job raising you." Do I get no credit? Is there no one who says "Well, that was a good decision Andrea, I'm impressed with your reasoning skils" No. No, you get "Well, you're not slinging drugs, so it must be your parents influence." You're talking to the person who, after the age of 12, had a mother so emotionally conflicted with herself that she pretty much withdrew from the family. Who stops talking with you, and only communicates in necessity, a father who works all fucking hours of the day, only to come home and sleep at 7 pm, snore like a banshee, and wake up so early that you barely see the man. With friends who freaking ditched me in a nice unified motion and I get people saying shit like that. But NO! You're not the one who mentally compemplated her decisions, who rationalized her life at a rather young age to cope with everyone else being a douchehole at the time.

Gehh. I feel very rodney dangerfield at the moment. No respect. On top of all that, i'll be graduating soon; which means I have to find a legiamate job with life insurance, with dental, with all that wonderful goodness. Right now I work at Steak N' Shake. I try to get more into art, posting on new sites, holding auctions to.. essentually prove my worth and no one bites. I get a comment about doing my best, but obviously, my best ain't working. I get friends who say it's a slow economy, but for fuck's sake, if others are selling, I can sell too. I feel like i've taken no step foreward, just various steps to the side. I am so increidbly frustrated and freaked out right now that it was all i could do to not post one of those annoying journals on Deviantart where you go "seriously. I'm so fucked over for money, will SOMEONE help me, or i'll be eating canned dog shit for the rest of the week" journals, basically saying you're at the end of your rope.

Why is it that no one helps until it's at that point? I do appreciate the people going "I would if I could" But that helps about as much as "If ifs and buts were candy and nuts we'd all have a merry christmas" If i had all the money in the world, fuck, i'd buy a freaking elephant.

I'm just very tense. Least I managed to spare my watchers on DA from another annoying rant-piss moan. I've told people I can't stand that either, but I know if I don't vent somewhere, it'll build up horribly and start giving me stomachaches and headaches, not to mention the spontaneous crying. That may be the worst of it.

I like ending my journals with odd little music clips:

Douchebaggery.

I got a blog. I've HAD a blog, and through this site, no less, but it's full to the brim with dim-witted teenage douchebaggery (hence the title) from 4 years ago, mostly about OMG, I liek this guy, but the things we do are dangerous (around the time of the infamous road-trip police station debauchery. Scandalous) But I'm not going to link you to it, as it's embarrassing to all aspects of me and what I used to write about.

FFFFFFFFinally! Now anytime you've wanted to hear about the wacky shit that's usually not worth typing about on my Deviant Art account, you can stuff yourselves to the brim here. Listen to my tales of people saying stupid stuff! Listen to the time I stub my toe! All the highlights are here! I'M SO EXCITED I CAN BARELY CONTAIN MYSELF.


Sooo, uhh, for people that may possible stumble across this thing, and do not know me on DA, I draw dem purdy pitchas. I plan on updating this routinely. I've had many suggestions that this type of venting my relieve my annoying tendencies. Maybe i'll even find a happy medium! Hooboy!

Not much to report about today: I woke up 2 hours early on accident, and spent the entire time huddling in the bed, trying to force my own period to happen. My aunt Flo is due to make a visit...two days ago, and has been taking her sweet time getting here, most likely just in time for my vacation to Aruba. She's a courteous old broad. So courteous that I've punched my own ovaries many times throughout the day. ( I have co-workers who can verify this) . I was supposed to work from 12 am to 9 pm, which is my normal annoying Sunday shift, I've had it all semester. All school year, each time I've worked that shift, i left with at least 60 dollars. Today, i left with 24 dollars. I had 6 tables total for 7 hours, and got out 2 hours early. That's...phenomenally unheard of. I actually was able to leave while the sun was still up.

Though most of the shift was with my crappy manager, Misty. She's about 5'3 ft of angry midget, and she especially hates me. She nearly tried to slit my throat for putting in bacon cheese fries. (again, you may think I'm joking, but this was seriously what she threw a fit about) She's obviously trying to cover that she may be a raging lesbian, and she has the worst Napoleon complex I've ever seen. Just a pain in the ass altogether to be around-- and not to mention hating me, she also thinks I'm mentally handicapped. Seriously. She talks to me like how a deaf grandmother talks to her cat. Loud, simplistic, short words for my tiny brain to comprehend. I used to get angry at this, but now I just laugh at her and find it incredibly funny. Most of the time, i get my co-workers in on this fun, and we try and see how retarded Misty can talk to me. At least she doesn't ask me to do anything complicated. :D

Misty left at 6, which we were stuck with a quasi-manager, a visiting manager that took over manager-ing while the scheduling was wonky. Her name as Leza; and she was like a godsend. Too bad she won't be there any longer; she honestly let me do anything: I ate food from the counter, i ate stuff in the back, and me and my friend Marcynda made pins out of soft, pliable crayons. Then we made pins for people working production. She even expressed interest in having one. It was so goddamn slow in that place, it was either bend crayons, or start something on fire for the entertainment value.

In a way, I'm sort of glad people didn't come. It means that the people of DeKalb have more sense then to take their mothers to Steak N' Shake for Mothers day. Though the people who did take their mothers there, well, they looked like the type of folks who would take their mothers to steak n' shake for mothers day. I just wished i made more money for the trip, it's going to be a little tight, now.

Check out this surreal, but incredibly interesting video:

Time to go update all my guff on here.