So Far, It's Not Working Out

I signed that contract under protest.  Why?  Because both of my fucking parents still aren't listening to a goddamn word I say.  One of the provisions was that I can't get mad whenever they say something.

"But what happens if you get mad at me?" I told Mother.

"We never get mad at you," Mother said.  What fucking bullshit.  Either she's too stupid to be living, or that bitch is a goddamn liar.

Case in point: Sunday.  I busied myself; when I told them earlier in the weekend that I had "work," what I really meant was that I was going to go out and see the Italy-England Euro 2012 soccer match.  (Hell of a game, BTW, too bad England is still damned with those penalty kicks.)  I come back to see a pile of branches in the front lawn.  Apparently Father took the afternoon to cut off parts of the tree in the front yard.  I remember him telling me a couple years ago.  I didn't do it because 1) it's a large tree, 2) it was a large saw, and 3) there's no telling what damage I could do if I decided to cut branches willy-nilly.  I have a bad feeling what Father did is going to kill the tree.

So, because it was there, naturally I had to go help throw the leaves into the minivan.  I thought My Fucking Father told me I couldn't dump yard waste anymore?  Anyway, it only took the first branch I laid hands on before My Fucking Father whined something under his breath, something in Chinese, something I was lucky not to understand, but still it bothers me because the asshole was judging me, again.  Later he brusquely and rudely took a tree stalk from me just as I started grabbing it.  A stronger grip and my fingers would be full of splinters, you fuck.

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Before I left for "work" that day I put my laundry in the washer and dryer.  My Fucking Father always steps into my room and takes my dirty laundry down, whether or not I need it to, and I don't, I could go two even three weeks without doing it, but he comes in every fucking week, so I decide to preempt him this time.

But the fucking dryer doesn't dry, so after dinner I go down and see that my clothes aren't dry.  So I give it another spin.  If anything, I left it in there too long.  I was going to go down there to retrieve my load after My Fucking Father would stop ... doing what he was doing down there.  But around midnight I hear him stomp upstairs and throw the hamper I left downstairs just outside my door.  While he was trundling about upstairs I opened the door and said thanks, but he didn't hear me, because he's an asshole.

I signed the contract and it is he who isn't holding up the spirit of it.  He's angling to get me thrown out, I can feel it.