February 5th, 2002

(I've tried patience)


I've got to go back to school today. Even if I didn't have to, I'd want to, because from tomorrow it'd be just dad and me in the house, and he's been a total bastard the whole time. ~shakes head~ I don't understand him. I just don't understand. I'm his *daughter* for god's sake. I don't always like him that much, but if he got ill like this I'd cook for him and stuff - have done before - and I wouldn't stand by his bed and tell him he was putting it on...

Enough bitterness - I'm ok, and I have to look after Chris, and that's all that matters.

Oh, yes, and, Pete Burns on Never Mind The Buzzcocks last night - oh, my...get him and Lily Savage and Boy George on the same show and you'd have to carry me out in a bucket...~g~ All very strange and wonderful.


Everyone please join me in a rousing chorus of
"He loves you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
He loves you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
He loves you (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah...)"
  • Current Music
    Hope the music will come back once my head clears...
(I've tried patience)

Would someone *please* explain how I'm in the wrong here?

Dear Auntie LiveJournal Friends Group,

Some of you have kids and therefore may be able to offer a different perspective on this conversation I just had with my mother. I'm trying to get along with my parents, but I just cannot understand them. Help?

Mum: I don't think the two of you were entirely fair on us, though.
Me: ...how?
Mum: Well, I know you were ill, but we hardly saw anything of either of you. And of course he was ill and we wouldn't have sent him home in that state, but we didn't know from you whether you wanted him to stay or not, or whether he was what you'd been expecting or not...
Me: Why didn't you ask me?
Mum: You were in bed ill the whole time!
Me: Well, that's not my fault, is -
Mum: Oh, get out! ~throws things in sink and storms out of kitchen~

Exhausted of Brighton.
  • Current Music
    'Rock On', David Essex.