BLOGGING IS FUN!

So, I haven't blogged in a while.... like a long while, and a lot has happened. I started writing more of my Randall book I started AGES ago. Also, I graduated. Yes, this is correct, I am now a degree holding citizen. Not that it's really doing me much good, because I am still as of yet, unemployed. Worse yet, I'm broke so I have to move out of my place, and luckily found some sucker to take it. But the really bad part about this, is that it means moving in with my parents.... That's right, the P-word.

Now to most people, living with the parents, is not all bad. I mean come on, free food, free diet coke. Free rent even, so you can just relax with parents that love and adore you and look for work, while munching on free food. However, my parents, are unlike most parents. As much as I love my parents idea, that instilling a solid work ethic in their children is good, if you have to do everything at your parents beck and call while living there, it leaves you with little time to look for said job. Damn.... That's all I can say, Damn. Working for my mother, is hell. Absolute Hell. Let me tell you about my "jobs" the last two weeks I've lived in my parents house.

First one... We replaced the roof a while back, and that combined with roof rats, made the insulation come off the ceiling of the garage. So it fell upon me, the fearless skinny one, to work myself among the rafters spider-man style with a staple gun, and re-attach the insulation. Some of this required me to lay on the boards going across the rafters. One quick note: Due to the whole reason they needed to be fixed (roof rats!) I ended up laying on some odd pellet like things. Oh yeah, THAT WAS RAT CRAP! So I laid amongst the rat droppings, battling my fear of heights, with a staple gun for hours. It was pretty nasty. One of the worst parts, was realizing I had a hair on my face that was bugging me, and reaching to pull it off my face only to discover a daddy long leg and bits of web in my hand. It was marvelous, absolutely marvelous.

Second job... Well, since my mother obviously did not feel that I had properly attacked my fear of heights, amongst the poop covered rafters, she decided that we could paint the entry way. That sounds fun, right? Wait, yes, I got put in charge of painting everything from 10-20ft up, including the ceiling. So there was me, a wobbly ladder, and a roller on a very long stick, and I was scared to death. This lasted a couple of days, because apparently the paint needed three coats, instead of the usual two, to be "perfect" in my mothers eyes. Oh, and we found out that you had to be careful that the "white" paint from the other rooms didn't get this white on it. Apparently my mother felt that each room should be a different white. We have five different shades of white painted on one floor. That's not necessary! Honestly folks!

Third job... Let me preface this by saying, that I love my sisters very much, I promise. So my mother finds out she has to work Raven's shift, on Raven's birthday. So I get relegated to the duty of chauffeur, navigator, and time management specialist. Which really is just a fancy way for me to say that I get to make sure Raven gets whatever she wants, when she wants, and I'm in charge of getting there, and making sure no one effs it up. This might not sound so bad, except that Raven is like ten second Tom, and she cannot comprehend when things just physically aren't going to happen how she likes them. It was a nightmare. Also, Tess kept being like "Why did you turn the music down" "Turn the volume up", every single time I'd turn it down so that I could ask Raven a question, or call someone to set something up for her. This was almost worse than rolling around in the rafters with the rat turds.

Next Job... So I haven't actually done this one yet... It's coming next week. It could actually be fun, if I wasn't worried about getting a job, and getting the hell out of my parents place. My mother has decided that getting work off to go to Girls Camp for church doesn't sound as good as making me go in her place, and then getting a five day vacation. Imagine that. So I will be stuck with a bunch of 14 year old hormonal girls camping with them.... Oh shit. I don't even like girls my own age, much less the ones going through puberty. What the heck? I'm supposed to go to all their activities, including craft hour! Dude... I am not Martha Stewart anymore, and this is not a good idea. But, my mother likes it because she gets a vacation! Dang...

So beyond all that. Beyond the numerous requests and whatnot I am expected to comply with... I now have a curfew. Holy hell, really? Yes, I have frigging curfew. I'm a full grown adult, and I have a curfew. Could I be more humiliated? Why yes I could, want to know how? I share a room with my 13 year old sister. On top of that, I share a bunk bed with her... and I get the top. So if you've wondered why my self esteem has hit a record low, this could be why. I feel like a five year old. All I need next is a Teddy Bear. Oh wait, on top of that all. My mother hates me. Yeah, I know I forgot to mention that. It's a big one. HATES ME! I think it stems back to when she never wanted to have children, and then got preggers with me. She cried for weeks when she found out. Anyhow, her favorite thing to do is try to make me cry. Usually, she wins...