I hate, hate, hate hanging out with my dad lately. I mean I don't mind doing most stuff with him, but what he wants to do lately is make my sister and me paw through my mom's stuff and decide what we want to take. I'd just like one goddamn day off, one time to see him, where it's not this shit. I hate going through my own things, or be forced into doing anything when I'm not in a mood to do it, much less this stuff. Plus he's trying to make me take things I don't even want.

I got in a fight with him and my sister. He thought I would like a pot she had recently bought to make this one kind of soup. Which I do--that soup was one of our family traditions, and delicious besides. No one else seems to want to bother. But then I got to asking him how I should do it--because all the recipes on the internet for making beef stock are full of this BS extra work I don't think mom ever did. He confirmed yes, all she did was boil the soup bones. I told him the main reason I was looking at recipes was cause I was trying to get an idea of how much beef you needed per how much water.

He was telling me he thought he knew how much because he knew how much she used before. But.... the pot he's giving me, it's half the size of the one she used. It's still one bigass pot, and more than big enough, but it's not going to be reliable for measurements. I tried to tell him that, and him and Lori kept telling me that it's more than big enough, even though I told them over and over I realized that. It sort of culminated with him asking me why I never asked her when she was around, and me screaming, "I did, she didn't want to just tell me, we were going to do it together, but I guess now we never will."

Then I went away to cry. Then later my dad noticed, and asked me what was wrong and I told him, "Mom is dead, that's what's wrong," angrily.

The day sucked anyway... I tried to make fresh scones for him and my sister and they weren't interested. Why I met with so much resistance for actually trying to do something nice for people, I don't know. I mean, I'd already made the dough all I had to do is pop it in the oven for 15 minutes.

Then we went to lunch and I got stuck in one of those positions where you feel like a retard because the person at the counter says next and you can't tell if they're talking to you or not and you get confused. I tried to just make my sister go first, because she kept telling me to go up there because she thought we were next, and she randomly decided she didn't want to and kept making me. I started yelling at her that if she is so sure that they want us next she should talk to them. Then she took that as license to not only order first, but to order FOR me. Then I tried to tell her I wanted the vegetables off mine and she got mad at me and told me to talk to the lady at the counter and tell her that, which I didn't want to because she'd already seen me acting like a schizophrenic shouting at my sister this whole time and probably hated me.

Then at dinner her fucking kid loudly cried for like 10 minutes because they didn't have chocolate milk at the restaurant. Instead of yelling at him to stop or ignoring him, she kept trying to placate him with offers of other drinks he didn't want, and making the poor waiter stand there waiting for our order while she did it. At one point she said, "does anybody have a knife?" because she needed to cut up food for her other crying kid (this kid's crying was legit--he's a baby and had a cold) and I thought, "If I had access to a knife, your firstborn would not be alive right now."

The one good thing that happened today is I've pretty much been vindicated RE: how awful my previous downstairs neighbors were. I went to the second condo assoc. meeting they've actually told me about since I've lived here and I mentioned the vandalization of my car--and another person actually had those bastards BREAK INTO THEIR CAR after having an altercation with them. So yeah--it is DEFINITELY safe to say that those assholes slashed my tires, keyed my car twice, and probably even stole my tire iron. Jokes on you though, fuckers: I have triple A and had no intention of changing my own tire anyway. But it WAS annoying trying to find it later. Either way I'm glad they moved. The guy living there now is related to them somehow, but thankfully seems a lot less assholey.