I was torn about going to work out today. I wasn't planning on it, because I wanted to see Chuck, Hawai'i Five-O (which turned out to be a re-run, boo) and maybe The Cape if I were awake. But I wasn't planning on using the car, either.
That changed when Mother told me to cash a check. Well, shit then, if I'm going all the way up to the bank, then I might as well go to the nearest comic book shop and buy the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue. I wound up driving for 63 miles. That, plus the TV on tonight that I wanted to watch, plus the price of gas, plus My Fucking Father bitching at me about going out all the time (even though it's just exercising), is making me start to ration my trips to the gym.
In the end, even though I had the car out, I put it back in the garage. I really want to go work out (and go out) Friday, so I'd better keep the peace at home and stay home tonight. But ... I have mapped things out. I haven't worked out since Thursday. I could go work out tomorrow, but there is a concert in St. Paul I want to go to, and if I leave too late, I won't exercise tomorrow. Plus, there's America's Next Top Model on Wednesday. Moreover, the forecast calls for snow Thursday. It's possible I could go a week without working out, which is not good. So, I told myself that if things "go wrong" at home, and I get pissed off at home, I could certainly take out my car again and just fucking go.
Turns out My Fucking Father was in a bad mood -- which put me in a bad mood. The first thing he says to me as he comes home is whether I called the guy in Vegas. "What guy?" I ask. He's fucking crazy.
Furthermore, Grandmother was at her worst tonight. (First of all, this evening, when I went into her room for testing, I was taken aback by a smell of what I believe is puke. I couldn't smell it again. Maybe it was her breath. Anyway, a little Febreze and it was gone.) For some reason the microwave didn't heat up the noodles we were eating. And as he always fuckin' does, he blames Grandmother. He actually might be right in this case; the knobs had been twiddled with so that it was at its lowest setting when it should be at its highest.
Both Mother and My Fucking Father were at their most diffident tonight. A bad sign: They didn't stick around to wash our dishes. So, I girded myself: If either of my folks set me off, just go. Working out is good for me. The new shows can wait.
I needed to make absolutely sure My Fucking Father wanted me to do something he really asked me to do before, but I just forgot. So after I got done eating, I went downstairs to My Fucking Father, who was toiling away at the computer. I was really prepared for the worst because, just before I came down, Grandmother, who compounded both of my parents' ire by slowly waddling around the kitchen cooking up her own food, thought it was a good time to ask Mother for money.
So I go down, check in hand, to My Fucking Father. I ask who the hell is he talking about. He gives me another name of an owner in his association who has multiple properties and therefore makes his pants tighten, if you know what I mean. Then, as I was about to bolt, he asks me if I'm working tomorrow because he wants me to re-roast the pork.
And then, goddammit, for whatever reason, he asks me to look for a job or go back to school. What in the fuck made you think that was the right time to ask such a stupid question?!?!?!
I was so afraid that he would just fucking ambush me like that, I had the urge to just punch him in the fucking face and immediately leave for the community center. And I announced it, to which he whined in his patented way (in Chinese), "Well, if you want to go, then go!" I should have mocked him by repeated what he said in my mocking voice, but I was so mad that he humiliated me. Fuck, I even gave him the keys Mother left in the doorknob and he told me to put it on the sill -- another fucking way he humilated me!!
But I'm trying to control my temper; lashing out at this wound to my pride wasn't going to get any better if I act as immaturely as My Fucking Father. I had to think. I already put the car away. I really wanted to see TV. I want to go out Friday. And I didn't really feel like going out, loud protestations aside. So after going upstairs to change and get ready to leave, I changed my mind, went back downstairs, locked the front door and announced, loudly, that I was staying in. Yeah, I showed him, that motherfucker.
Besides, if I wanted payback, there are better ways to do it than spending gas on the way to exercise. I don't really have to work tomorrow. I planned on going to a movie. What if I stay out after that? Maybe I should. And that concert tomorrow? It is late, so maybe I'll come back at, oh, midnight. And I'll stay out till 1 on Friday. And I'll just say I called that guy in Vegas when I'll "forget."
Best of all, I'll get back at My Fucking Father by not looking for a job or going back to school. How do you like them apples, ambushing patriarch?
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