My dad and I used to fight a lot. I mean A LOT. I think this started when I was in junior high and lasted through most of high school. Most of the fights were about stupid things. I didn't clean well enough, I wanted to stay out later than usual, blah blah teenage angst.
On the date above, I wrote the following words. They're really quite beautiful. No editing has been done.
Today I baby-sat Billy and Danny all day. Aunt Brenda wanted to go to the hospital. Grandpa is there because of his stomach (he'll be fine! *whew*) and she didn't want Grandma to be alone. My dad is being such a jerk. I waited an hour to get on the internet and then he says that no one else could get on tonight. It was not fair. And I had email to answer. It was only ten o'clock, just because Mindy was a brat no one could get on. We went out to dinner (Chili's) and I stuffed myself. Plus I drank 3 huge glasses of Coke, so I had to pee really bad by the time we got home. Dad told me I was being a trashmouth tonight. (Just because as we were leaving the hospital, I picked up a glove and asked if I could have a prophylactic*) Well, and I said a few other things. (I just guessed what song was gonna be on the radio. Weirdness.)
I really need to talk to Erica. She's been gone all week and got back tonight. But no, dad has to be a major dickwad! (How's that for a trashmouth, you fuckerhead fartass!**) Sorry, better go now!
Yeah. I'm pretty sure it's the best thing I've ever written.
*I think it's safe to say that I did not know any connotations of the word "prophylactic" other than rubber glove. So naive.
**Sorry, dad! Love you!
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