Things are pretty interesting at home recently. I mean, good interesting. And mad interesting. At the moment, we have in our house:
- Mummy
- Frank
- Megan (oh joy.)
- Meee
- My cousin Becky
- Her friend Kay
- A scotsman working for his keep named Graeme
There is also a heavily pregnant and seemingly depressed dog (Belle), a dog with a lampshade-collar due to a particularly nasty mosquito bite that we wouldn't stop biting (Bo), a baby dog that's just come back from the vets after surgery in which the doggy-surgeon accidentally cut her jugular (Natasha/Natty Noodles/Noodles). There's also the cat that's only just come off of Valium (Kitty), and the newborn lambs, one of which is shitting up blood (oh, come on, they don't have names).
Our current method of transportation is a white van. You know, those Ford Transits? It's like that, but a Mercedes and about two times longer. There are three seats in the front, and in the back there are two sofas; a two seater and a three seater, which Mum bought on eBay for about a tenner each. We have a people carrier, but it died. =(
People staying work for their keep. This means I have to help too or it looks bad, 'cause I'm just the freeloading daughter. Well, duh. Of course I wanna stay in bed until eleven in the morning (at least!!), and then just roll over and take my guitar and play for eight hours a day and then be reaaaallly good. Of course I don't want to wash up, and I have no desire to make fences and get dirty hands with Frank. I'm just the fucking lazy teenage daughter who isn't at all helpful and wants to spend all day online/on her own in her room.
...But lately I'm being social! It's pretty fun with Becky and Kay and Graeme, 'cause it's like having people that you get along with around all the time. Only problem is, hey! Megan's gotta come along.
I'm going to presume that you, yeah you reading this, do not know Megan. She's... erm... Well, she's just a fucking nightmare. She lies, she steals, she's in your face, she's brain-dead, she's almost-chav, she copies you and denies it, she picks fights for attention, she fucks up for attention, she won't fuck off and leave you alone. So, imagine, you've got some really cool individuals at your house. Woohoo! And then you've got your worst enemy tagging along. Anf you're not allowed to exclude them, because according to your Mother, that's not acceptably behaviour. None of you like her. She lies and she won't shut up, and if you talk about anything brinking on an intellectual conversation, she will start whinging at the top of your voice about how stupid what you're talking about is, and that she doesn't care about it and that she shouldn't have to care and etc. Just imagine that. Imagine that hte one person you can't stand, that you never want to see in your life ever again, that that person is there and ruining your fun little social circle. And you can't bott them out. And it CHOKES you.
That's how I feel
right now.
Like, just half an hour ago, she was sent to bed, most probably because she was pissing Mum off, and she just came straight into the office. "Did you ask?" She demanded, meaning if I had asked to go online.
"Yes, I have, and it's none of your business. Just go to bed."
"Actually, it
is my business, because if you spend all of my time online I won't get any!"
"Megan, you just look at shit!"
She looks at me with a weird air of superiority. "Oh, really? What are you on?"
"It's none of your business! Just
fuck off to bed!"
"Oooh, so, you won't tell me!"
"Megan, just piss off! You're always looking for trouble, can't you see I don't want you near me? Just piss off and leave me alone!"
And so it continued. She wouldn't leave. She kept on. Until I wrestled her to floor. "Look, you bitch, what I do is none of your business. Nothng I do concerns you in the slightest, you dumbassed cow."
She glowers at me. "D'ya wanna punch?" She snarls.
I raise my fist, and she covers her face with her arms. "Look, you, I'm not looking for trouble. I just want you to stay the fuck away from me! Because you're nothing to me, you're just some stupid bitch who won't fucking leave me alone to live my life!"
Cue door slam.
Cue retaliation. "You didn't look your room."
"Oh, touch anything in my room and it'll be the last thing you do," I answer with little concern. She wouldn't dare. But... I
did kind of go into her room one day and write over every poster on her wall with a Sharpie marker. But... meh.
And this is everyday.
And the person I'm not allowed to exclude.
...Do I seem reasonable? Oh, who gives a toss. I'm gonna go sleep now.
picture: just... Jeff Buckley with no relation to my ranting. It's just such a pretty picture
