Well, thank you to the big celestial man upstairs, I am now offially past the weepy-emo-bullshit phase of my mourning. Hum Hallelujah. After a while, you can only apologize for yourself so much before you sit back and think "Hmmmm...maybe it's them and not me". A special thanks to Sterling who managed to verbally bitch slap me out of my funkedy funk. Sometimes you just need someone to beat the shit out of you before you can shut your freaking gob and get your slacker ass in gear.
The past couple nights at Adonis have been rough. Have you ever tried being sexy when you know your mother thinks you're a crippling disappointment and that if you were on fire, she wouldn't piss on you to put you out. Seriously, try it. It's not gonna happen. The first night was just the typical "Blah, my mom hates me. Commence sulking" bullshit. The second night I was actually doing decently well until this one asshole showed up.
I met him once or twice before, and he added me on Facebook, so he kinda knew about my deal with the parental units. Well, he manages to drag me down by talking about them ad nauseum, asks me if I can give him a lift home after work, then tries to set me up with a seemingly-nice kid who appeared to be the illegitimate love child of Zac Efron and Animal from Electric Mayhem. I won't go into details, but the conversation basically went like this...
Asshole: "Hey, sorry your Mom pretty much abandoned you. Want to hob this random strangers knob?"
Me: "Step off my grill, Gromet, My ass is not your McDonalds."
Efron-Animal: "Why won't you smile? Don't be sad, smile!"
Me: "You seem like a nice kid, but tell me to smile again and I will straight up shank you, perv-bot".
As you can see, this conversation went nowhere. Eventually I just went upstairs into the faux-shower room, took deep breaths, and envisioned myself running him down in my bucket of a car, then throwing it in reverse and going in for sloppy seconds. I'm normally not the murderous type (oh who am I kidding. Of course I am) but I have to admit I wouldn't have minded seeing him take a sharp object to at least one of his extremities.
Anyways, this means that I'm now at the point where I am not even gonna bother trying to apologize for myself anymore. Obviously, I'm never going to be able to tell her exactly what she wants to hear, so I'm doing the next best thing and telling her the truth. What she chooses to do with it is her problem.
You know what? I can understand that she doesn't respect what I do, but I honestly don't see why that would justify her not respecting me as a person. If she's going to keep treating me like shit, I'm not about to stand around while she makes me feel bad about what I do. She's getting the truth, whether she likes it or not. It's fight time. Dukes up, Mom.