It's funny how beautiful people look when they're walking out the door

Let's see.

I went in for that interview today thinking I would be a fail and it would be a huge waste of time. I took the assessments and I scored 88% on the call center stimulation and the message retaining sections, and for the typing test, I scored 100% accuracy with 63 words per minute. Thought it was going to be somewhere around the area of 35, so that surprised me. I hit it off extremely well with my interviewer and I got the job as a temp. I start on the 29th and I want to be excited, but given the sudden turn of events in my life, I'm not.

My family is falling apart.

My mother has been hiding money and my father found out about it. Rather than fight it out for a few days, they're actually divorcing this time. On top if it, my father is most likely terminally ill, so to cry out for attention, the fucking bitch walked out of the house bending over and bemoaning about how she's "sick".

We're losing the house in August, in all likelihood, my father lost his job because his boss is pissed about the doctor's notice saying he ought to be out of work for a week, my brother is saying that he just doesn't care anymore and is leaving anyways, and here I am, all alone, about to smoke a bowl because I'm depressed and don't want to deal with shit.

Greg showed me The Wall on Sunday and I absolutely hated it except for the Trial scene at the end. I was going to dedicate a post to it, but I don't have the heart for it right now. If someone wants to comment and talk about it, I'll do that, but basically, this is why I hated it. I agree that it's creative as hell and artistic and brilliant, but I did NOT like it.

• The lead character is a whiny little bitch who cries about every single misfortune that's ever befallen him. Whaah, daddy died. Whaah, I have an Oedipal complex because my mother neglected me. Whaah my girlfriend cheated on me. Whaah, I was artistically suppressed in school. Whaaah.
  
• I did not, did NOT appreciate the fucking misogyny in that film. Dude, so your girlfriend's a whore, that doesn't mean that all of them are. Should have paid attention to her and maybe she wouldn't have cheated on you.
  
• I had no idea what was going on for 75% of it, and if that makes me an idiot, so what.
  

I discussed it with Tino briefly today and he told me that my interpretation was way, way off, but was too tired to talk about it with me. If I'm wrong, go ahead and tell me, but like that's the impression I got from it. -.-


I don't know what to say anymore.

EDIT--

One more bit about the wall, Kaila.

*during the Trial scene*
Greg: That's kind of a scary picture...
Me: Yeah....
*few minutes*
Me: Actually...
Greg: 0.o?
Me: It looks like the shit zhalin used to draw 0.o

So my ass is flat broke until Friday, right? Yeah. I have NO MONEY. I had FIFTY CENTS to my NAME, so I met up with Tino at Tedeschi's so we could split a Black and Mild. We sat on my front steps and smoked it.

I come in, and my mother starts queening about how long I was out. "I thought you were just getting CIGARETTES, Ashley!"

"No mom, I'm broke. I got a black and mild."

"A WHAT?"

"Cigar."

"You smoke CIGARS now?!" *mortified facial expression*

"Mom, I had CHANGE. I'm BROKE. I got what I could AFFORD."

"Is this a NEW THING? Don't smoke cigars!!!"

"...Why?"

*looking at my father as if he'd agree with her* "They have TAR. And NICOTINE. And they STUNT YOUR GROWTH."

"Mom...cigarettes do the same thing..."

"I can't BELIEVE this, cigars are BAD for you!!"

"You don't know what you're talking about, mom, please just stop."

"No. I DON'T WANT YOU SMOKING CIGARS. George?! Back me up on this!"

"Susan, you don't know what you're talking about. Go away."

"UUUUGH." *storms off*

I need to go to bed, as tino is forcing me to come over for breakfast tomorrow @_@

So at one in the morning last night, I get a text from my mother telling me that she's throwing me out of the house, for neglecting to call her the night before when I stayed at Greg's. My phone died, mind, and I had no idea what the fuck her number was.

So I call her after I got that text, we fight, and my father is tired and just wants the psycho bitch to shut the fuck up, so he tells me not to come home. She PRETENDED TO BE MY FATHER and texted me saying that "u treat ur mother like shit u need 2 get ur shit together well get restrain order if u dont leave 2nite"

.....

Mind you, the cunt also tried to file a missing person's report on me, barely five hours before this.

So after the WORST night of my life (staying over boyfriend's best friend's house because I had nowhere to go, boyfriend's best friend telling me to cheat on Greg with him, me getting creeped out and not sleeping, really starting to think that I have no guy friends because it seems like they all want to get in my pants in situations like these) I come home to get my shit and she's crying. I get the "I LOVE YOU SOOO MUCH we didn't really WANT you to go, we JUST WANT you to FOLLOW THE RULES" speech, hem, BULL. SHIT.)

I just ignored her, and went to go look at the apartment I've been trying to get into for the past week or so. I met the landlord, signed the lease, worked out an agreement with him regarding paying the security deposit in incriments, bam, Ashe has her own place, finally, and is moving in on Wednesday. It's not glamourous by any stretch of the imagination, no kitchen or bathroom, but it'll definitely suffice. It's not TINY, like I have my own closet and there are HUGE windows so the room is really nicely lit. I'm wicked excited to move in. My landlord is really flexible with money...my friend from work who was kind enough to tell me about the opening was explaining to me about how she showed up WITH HER BAGS and he let her move in that night. So I'm good, I just really need to concentrate on packing and stuff for the next few days.

Greg promised me a nice day for just the two of us tomorrow, so I'm very excited about that. I expect next week will be very stressful for me, so if I turn into a dragon lady, I apologize in advance.

Cigarette. Now.

My mother is a C.U.N.T.

She's nothing but an egomaniacal, self-absorbed, passive-agressive, psychotic, hurtful, spiteful, idiotic CUNT.

I hate her. I hate her so much that I want her to just fucking drop dead. I don't care how angst-filled that sounds, she deserves it, and I mean it with every fibre of my being.

Bitch.

So my father punched my mother's windshield and cracked it, and she is now packing her bags and leaving.

Again.

I have no words. It's sad when you know you're more mature than your mother...

Oh, and FUCK YOU, boss. Cops at my house and my having a legitimate issue? Can't cover for me yet you can cover for dumb bitch who's sick like every day?

I just quit my job.

I don't want to be alone tonight.

Kristin and Lisa are coming to get me pretty soon, but still. For now, I'm all by myself and it's driving me mad. She's called four times already. I actually answered once. When I heard that sickly-sweet "Hi Ashley, it's me", the gorge rose up in my throat and I hung up before I could listen to any more. The next three times I couldn't pick up the phone.

She's so selfish.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to look her in the face after all of this.

Ringing again.

This is the second time I've heard her say "never mind, forget it" via the answering machine.

She's such an attention whore. I can't stand it.

I'm just going to eat this stir-fry that I don't really want, and maybe smoke a cigarette.

...
Well.

I was really happy not even a half hour ago, and now I'm fucking miserable.

My mother and I got into a fight on New Year's day. Just the typical "mraowr why-didn't-you-call" bullshit.

And....guess what? Her ass walked out on us.

Yup. She's been gone for two days, and it's for real this time because she moved in with my grandmother, for sure. They took the crib out of the guest room and everything. She's gone.

I'm really happy because we don't have to deal with her shit anymore.

But still. she really fucked over my brother and father financially. fucking stupid bitch.

*sigh*

So I just found out that my mother has breast cancer.

How did I find out, may you ask? From overhearing her talk to everyone ELSE in my family besides me. Because she doesn't have the fucking gall to tell me shit like this to my face.

The worst part?

I feel nothing. Nothing at all.

I don't care if she dies.

I deserve to burn in hell for this.

So yesterday? Sick. Sick beyond fucking comprehension.

Came home with a headache that would NOT quit, and decided to pass out for a few hours. Mother woke me up and called me downstairs, while I'm still feeling like I'm on the verge of death, and starts one of her random "I'm-going-to-scream-at-you-for-no-reason-because-I'm-angry-at-some-miniscule-thing-and-feel-like-taking-it-out-on-you" moods.

So I smile and nod, to the best of my ability, barely able to stand, and get screamed at even more for staggering back upstairs and going back to sleep. "Why are you SICK all of a sudden, Ashley?! It feels like every time I want to have a conversation with you, there's always SOME excuse--"

Pardon me if I'm wrong, but fucking ranting at someone isn't exactly what I'd call conversation.

And of course, when I woke up this morning, the wench actually wrote a note telling me to clean the house.

WTF?!

I have barely, BARELY been home for a week. It is not my fucking responsibility to clean up after people whom I rarely, if not never see. If I were living here on a regular basis and actually WANTED to live here...sure, what the hell, I'd clean. I'd do it happily. But no, I'm moving out in fucking two months, and I'm only here now because I have to be. WAKE THE FUCK UP. The fucking SECOND I turn eighteen, I'm writing off my whole family. I don't give a damn if that's me being bitter and angst-filled...I'm sick of the fucking mind game bullshit. Apparently, they feel that I'll forget about little incidents like, oh, I don't know, my ODing on my bedroom floor while they REFUSED to call an ambulance?? Running out into a fucking blizzard, fearing my life? The COUNTLESS times I've come home to them stoned out of their fucking minds, barely able to recognize me, their own daughter? Being thrown out of the fucking house because of a decision I made regarding my hair?

I'm done. Fucking done.

So, I think it's fair for me to say that I'm a complete emotional wreck right now.

Saturday? Fine. I just stayed the night over Lisa's.

Sunday? I receive a phone call from my mother in the morning telling me to come along home. So I do. And a huge argument ensues. Said argument included my father getting in my face, screaming, and telling me that if he ever saw me on the street, he'd break my head.

He also told me to take my bag and go. So I did.

The entire day was spent in a daze. I meandered around Stoughton by myself, and sat in the Capp playground for hours on end, listening to Evanescence and just generally hating my life. I talked to Mike St. Peters on the phone and said that it would be really easy for me to take a swan dive off the top of the slide and break my neck. Wasn't actually going to do it of course. But I think I really scared the hell out of him.

Come nine o'clock, I finally go back to Lisa's, and guess what. My mother calls, again. She accuses me of a MYRIAD of ridiculous things, including being a lesbian and being a serial killer, so I just hung up on her. Five minutes later, she calls me back and tells me that she's going to call the police in the morning and declare me a runaway.

What. The. Fuck.

So I call her back, suck it up, feed her ego, and apologize. It works, pathetically enough, and guess what. I'm home again.

Went up to my room and it's totally barren. The bitch cleaned out all my clothes, all my things, all my books. There's nothing. It looks like a fucking spare room.

Yeah, mom. You didn't throw me out at all.

I don't know what the fuck to do. I really don't.