Oh, I guess I have
some good news, but I want to complain first, okay? Okay.
My dad calls me at
9:00 a.m. and says, “Hi, are you mad at me?”
Then he bitches at me for about fifteen minutes since I, the horrible
daughter straight from Hell, haven’t written him in a week. I told him I was busy studying, etc., but he
was still pissed off. Then he says, “Has
your mother said something to you to make you hate me?” or something equally
retarded, to which I reply, “No!”
Finally I convince him that I am not angry with him, Mom hasn’t
persuaded me to hate him, etc. Then he
asks me how I’m doing. Oh, just
SWELL! You just made my day! Then he says how he’s buying all sorts of
food for me, but I have to see him to get it.
(No, I thought that I’d eat it through a psychic channel.) Guess that means I shouldn’t be expecting a
box in the mail. Ah, the joys of having
divorced parents. It never ends. Luckily, I had a class to go to. Thank god for small miracles.
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