We ate steak for dinner.  Every fucking time when My Fucking Father puts the steak on my plate, My Fucking Mother insists I should check to see if it's cooked well enough.  It is; Father likes it on the rarer side, but it's not as if the damn thing's alive.  But without fucking fail, when she checks her steak, My Fucking Mother always says it's undercooked and has My Fucking Father put it on the grill outside to cook it some more.

I hesitate to say that she also tells me that my steak is undercooked and he has to cook it some more.  At least I don't want to say that it's every time.  But it was this time.  Even though the steak was a medium, maybe medium-rare, My Fucking Mother just fucking told My Fucking Father to cook it again.

And this might be the tie-in as to how My Fucking Parents have ruined my life.  They step in and do things for me because they think it's best for me.  They did it when they just gave me a new fucking bed.  They did it when they told me I had to go to summer school.  And they did when I had to wait to eat my steak.  I am fucking powerless because of the decisions they make for me, and it pisses me off.

Goddamn, when are they going to leave??