What The Fuck Was That All About?

So after dinner I disappear into my bedroom.  But I have to go on Facebook because I need to talk to a couple people about this concert tomorrow.

So I go out and, fucking out of the blue, My Fucking Father gets on me: "Hey, maybe for once after dinner you don't go into your bedroom.  Maybe do something."

What the fuck?  There is, like, a multitude of things going through my head after he says this:

• Where the fuck did this come from?
• My Fucking Father hasn't said a cross thing to me in a long, long time.  Things were going so good -- why would he ruin it?  Or, I could look at it pessimistically and figure it's about time that asshole said something mean to me.
• I totally, totally forgot that I wanted to go to tonight's Lynx game.  I was downtown working, too; I could've just pulled out of the ramp, found free parking, and got in for ten bucks -- and all of that would have taken the hour between work and the game.  Would have been able to avoid that ugly insult from My Fucking Father.
• So, why did I forget?  Oh, a bunch of things.  There was the concert I planned for tomorrow, there's this Amway salesman whose stuff I need to return but I didn't know when, plus I wasn't sure if my last day at this temp job was going to be this afternoon or tomorrow.  If I was leaving this project for good before a full day today I definitely would not stick around downtown for the Lynx game, but in the end ... fuck, I guess it just slipped my mind.
• I'm taking it OK, for now.  First of all, this was a total blindside, so my only thought really is, "What the fuck was that all about?"  Second, like I said before, it's been a long time since he took a cheap shot at me, so maybe my self-esteem withstood this.  Finally, I'm too busy coordinating with these two people about tickets and shit, and I don't have the time to fully process what he said to me.
• Well, this will be one of those things where I'm not upset now, but as I let it stew in my head I'll get angrier and angrier till I let My Fucking Father have it when he innocuously asks me a question, oh, a week from now.  Or I could just not replace the ink in the printer.
• Shit, they'll be leaving on vacation in a month.  Won't have to worry about his fucking ass for the rest of the goddamn year.

Fuck you, Father.  Seriously, go fuck yourself.