So I'm home, at my parents' house. I don't know who I'm trying to fool; I could never live here. I would die of boredom -- ennui, even -- shortly after I murdered my father. His crime? Being so similar to me (or I to him, I should say) that he drives me batty.
I really want to smoke. I brought some stuff with me, and my bowl that looks like a wooden Dutch shoe. I'll have to drive around the empty streets for a while, I guess? I need an excuse to go out to feed to my parents . . . I called my old high school boyfriend Oliver a little while ago. He said I should come to where he is, some kid's house, from the grade below me. He said they have a keg. I said I didn't have the energy for all that, I didn't think. Plus I'm still in the midst of a ridiculously ridiculous laundry run. It's been a while. When I'm done my last load, maybe I'll call him back and see if he just wants to drive around, or maybe hit a diner or something.
It's so weird to me that some people my age are still with their boy/girlfriend from high school. I don't necessarily think there's anything wrong with that -- though I do think that's a little risky, I mean hey, if you happened to meet The Person when you were sixteen, then you met them when you were sixteen, and there's not much you can do about that -- it just seems so foreign. I mean, I've done so many thing since then! I've done so many boys since then! Haha, I'm just kidding. I actually think I have a very nice number of people that I've slept with. Not too small, not too big. No but seriously, I've had one or two serious relationships since then, a couple semi-serious longish-term "dating" situations, a handful of illicit secret affairs, even a one-night stand or two. No, just one. But . . . I don't know. I guess if the alternative was One True Love, maybe that would be okay, but as it stands I sure am happy with all the goods and bads my lovelife has endured these past six years or so. Nobody can argue it hasn't been interesting.
Did you know that North Jersey is so hip and high-tech that residents have to dial the area code, too, when calling somebody? Even in the same town? Ridiculous. I always forget that.
Oh, and attention drivers who want to get off a highway via a popular exit that has a long queue: don't fucking sneak up and try to cut in at the front. Easter, schmeaster, you're being a fucking jackass and I have every right to drag you out of your car and step on your face. And if you were going fast and didn't expect the backup and honestly didn't mean to cut in? You're an asshole for not having any foresight, but once you realize, then cut in there. Don't say "oh, well I'm already here" and try to get in the front. And who are these people letting these fuckers in? Passover schmassover, we need to fucking REGULATE and also REPRAZENT or these fuckers will NEVER learn. Fuckers.
Oops, sorry, didn't mean to end all grumpy-like. We had corned beef tonight, because I missed out on St. Pat's day this year; and we're having lasagna tomorrow night. Hooray home-cooked holiday meals!
Oh, and it's weird that my brother isn't here. He's still stuck at school.
Back to laundry.