Why the fuck do I get to play second fiddle, or third, to everyone else. I was texting with my mom, it’s better that way-I don’t have to talk to my dad-and we were having a decent conversation. All of a sudden, my niece shows up and it’s ‘Brooke’s here. Ttyl.’ WTF? I’m sure Brooke wouldn’t mind if we finished our conversations. She’s a senior in high school and can entertain herself while we talk. It’s always something though when the conversation is going to start to be a little difficult for her.
Well, it’s noon, so I guess I should make lunch for your dad. Let the lazy fucking bastard make his own goddamned lunch. He knows where the microwave is. He can open a box of cereal is all else fails. He can put a can of soup in the microwave.
Well, it’s (insert time) and Ladies Group is coming over tonight. I need to get busy and clean the house. And talking to me for another 5 or 10 minutes will affect that?
Your brother just called and wanted to know if we had any jeans in his size at the shop. So I’m going to drive down there and look. (It’s a matter of maybe 3-4 blocks) Why can’t David go get his own jeans? He can read and knows how to try things on? Oh, you know your brother.
When are you coming home again Mike? I’m not.
cazandoconejos 