If I told you Saturday was probably the best and worst night of last week at the same time, would it make any sense to you?

I’ll start with the good first: Saturday was Senior game for my men’s lacrosse team, in which we won with a good score of 16-3. Overall, everyone played a great game, and I was just happy for the seniors that they celebrated one of their last home games with a great win, and a conference win at that.

After the game, A few of the players were telling us ATS’ “Yea come down to Castaways! We’re celebrating! Come down!” For those of you who are unaware, Castaways is a bar here in Ithaca that’s popular for playing live music.

So me, the once-anti-social, afraid of life girl, now found myself driving down to this bar. At first I was just mingling, not really having much to say. I was kind of annoyed that I’m flat broke and couldn’t afford to drink. Luckily, one of the coaches bought me a drink. So I took advantage and got a Long Island, knowing those get me tipsy, and more outgoing, rather quickly.

After my first drink, it got a bit easier to chat with folks, so I did just that. Someone else offered to buy me another drink, and I asked for a second Long Island.

Things are pretty good at this point. I’m not drunk, but I nicely tipsy at this point and enjoying myself. Oh, right, remember that guy I was telling you about in my last blog post? Well, he and I were flirting a bit more obviously, which was all very fun. He bought me my third drink, and this time I decided to get a schnapps and sprite.

So I’m drunk at this point. We were all planning on going to Kilpatrick’s, another bar in town, and I guess first we were going to pregame (if you can pregame when already drunk) at one of the lax houses. So we did that, then went to Kilpatrick’s. I had a bit more (a bit?) more to drink, and was, for the most part, trashed when we all moved from Kilpatrick’s to the Ale House. And I suppose I was too drunk at this point because I had only done so much as go to the bathroom when one of the bouncers kicked me out of the bar.

So I can’t even see straight by now, let alone walk straight, and I drunkenly decide “Well, I guess I’ll walk home.” I kind of feel a little bad because I just left and didn’t let ANYONE know. At this point, my phone was somewhere in Castaway’s because I did the cool thing and left it there, along with my car. I’m still not entirely sure how I actually made it to the entrance of campus. But I came across a friend, who observed that I was “really drunk.” Bless his heart, he helped me up onto campus, with me rambling jumbled words the whole way, and helped me up to my Garden, where I burst into tears and cried and rambled for something like an hour.

Oh, why did I cry? Well I suppose this would be a good time to mention the worst part of it.

So, remember that guy I was telling you about in my last blog post? Yea, well, I met his girlfriend.

… Yup. The guy I was FINALLY flirting and being flirted with, the SAME night I start doing so, I find out that, even if he was interested, it’s not like anything’s ever gonna come out of it since he HAS A GIRLFRIEND.

And for a little while I was wondering if she was making it up because I had seen no indication of my crush being taken. Up until that point everything came across to me as single. And then she made it obvious that he was taken by putting some cutesy bf/gf photos on Facebook.

So I burst into tears upon arriving home and I was probably drunkenly sobbing about how “every time I start to like a guy this happens,” and how I was just overthinking everything like I always do,” and so on and so forth. I then proceeded to attempt and fail at toasting a bagel (it was black when I pulled it out), stick it in the fridge anyway, and then pass out in my bed after typing up a super trashed Facebook status:

Figures. I was amazingly wrong. Got kicked out of a bar b/c I was too drunk. My car’s at Castaways, idk where my phone is, and I’m surprised I’m made it back to my apt. Best never ever. FML.

And then the next day, I walked the hour to Castaway’s to get my car.

Yup, crazy weekend. ‘Nuff said.

I’ve pretty much lost the ability to think. I’m almost looking forward to going home. And I’d actually be looking for it if it weren’t for the fact that I’ll be working. Lame! Who ever heard of me having a REAL break? I know I sure as hell didn’t!

There’s a knot in my neck the width of my thumb. It starts at the base of my skull and it goes down to my scapula. I think I need to see a massage therapist.

Everything is riding on my Advanced P and C final on Tuesday. Else I’m pretty much fucked. I hate life.

Some relatively good news: All my personal essay papers came back with A’s, and this final paper of mine is coming along nicely. I’ll post up download links to them so if you want to read them you can, and if you don’t want to read them, you can stfu and not bitch that I posted them anyway.

… I actually had a lot more to talk about. Unfortunately, I completely forgot all of it. So, I suppose I’ll try to keep you posted.

Actually, this goes for anyone else complaining about her singing “being too loud” when you ALL scream and yell through the house when SHE’S trying to work. Fuck you, go kill yourself, fuck off, and stfu. If you don’t like Mom’s belting, leave the god damn house, and fucking move out. SOME people actually NEED to move out too, so there. Bring it up to her again and you’ll be answering to my FIST. Well, more like my verbal bitch-slapping powers. Either way, you’ll feel broken on the inside when I’m through.

You know, after this and this and this, you would think that my parents, especially my dad, would understand what I think about them and their god damned assumptions. Well here’s a little refresher course since you’re obviously too senile to remember what I tell you.

You may have given birth to me and you may have raised me from the first day, but that doesn’t mean you know everything about me. You, mom, may be able to psychoanalyze me half the damned time, and you, Dad, are just a plain old asshole, but what the hell makes you think you can figure out my exact motives? Last I recall, NEITHER of you could read my mind, so how about you stop acting like you can before you start, and I won’t have a reason to even be tempted to punch somebody. (Maybe I’ll just go back to slicing up my arms in fits of rage; it’d be a little less harmful to others.)

(Before I really get in to it; I should inform you that this blog post is more directed to Dad. At least Mom has the brains to shut the fuck up and drop the subject)

For your information, I wasn’t being nosy, like some people are (Like oh, I don’t know, DAD). I heard my baby brother screaming outside, and I went out there to joke, to poke fun, because I thought he was randomly yelling like usual. So I went outside and randomly yelled, because I wanted to have fun. And when I heard him crying instead, the FIRST thing I thought was “I’m gonna have to smack someone around, aren’t I?”

First off, Dad, what gives you the right to tell me not to protect mymy little brother? Unlike you, I’m not a nosy little DICKHEAD who has no life outside of manga, anime, caffeine, motherboards, and sneaking buying/smoking packs of cigarettes behind everyone’s backs thinking that the rest of us don’t actually know he’s doing it (BECAUSE WE’RE TOTALLY AS RETARDED AS YOU, HUH?). Another thing; I wasn’t going outside intending to play the parent. I stayed outside because my brother was crying and something was wrong, and I just so happened to be there and I’m his big sister who can protect him every once in a while. I was actually INTENDING TO BREAK JONATHAN’S NOSE SINCE YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW SO BAD.

YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. You scream at me for “treating him like crap.” Then you scream at me for being a good big sister and looking out for him. So what the fuck is it that you expect me to do!? How about I pretend he doesn’t exist? Like he was never born, and that he’s not really my brother, but some kid that just lives here? Every time you want me to take him somewhere, I’ll just say “I can’t. He doesn’t matter to me.” Or would you rather I just continue to hate on him and bully him like Jonathan? You immature, STUPID little man. Get it through your thick skull: I may have several common personality traits, BUT I’M NOT YOU. I’m a HELL of a lot more responsible, mature, and intelligent than you’ll ever be. And fuck you. Next time I hear Ricky outside crying, I don’t give two shits whether or not I’m his “father” or his “mother, or even his fucking GRANDMOTHER; I WILL go outside, and I WILL see what’s wrong, and I WILL beat the shit out of his little friends if the situation calls for it, because I’M HIS MOTHERFUCKING SISTER AND I HAVE AN OBLIGATION TO WATCH OUT FOR HIM, YOU FUCKING PRICK!

You are a thickheaded asshole who doesn’t know how to fucking listen and the only thing you’re good at doing is acting like the whole fucking world is AGAINST YOU, which is probably WHAT YOU WERE DOING EARLIER TONIGHT WHEN YOU POINTLESSLY BITCHED AT ME! DO ME A FAVOR AND GO FUCKING KILL YOURSELF OR SOMETHING, AND SAVE ME THE TROUBLE OF DOING IT MYSELF!

I’m not in the wrong for this one. You and your assumptions, however, are. For the last time, stop assuming that I’m that much like you. I have NO intentions of taking your father job away (though I guarantee that if I did, I would do 10x better than you could ever hope to do), but I have every intention of sticking up for my brother even if that means I have to supposedly “butt in” when you do ALL THE TIME, and UNNECESSARILY TOO.

So, yea, I hope you aren’t expecting an apology, because you don’t deserve one. FYI, I’mreally tired of your bullshit. Who knows? At the rate you’re going, I really will hate your guts. Congratulations. I hope that’s what you were trying to accomplish all these years; to be The Biggest Asshole G’s Ever Known in Her Entire Life, because you did a damned good job. For the record, I really do hope with all of my being that I don’t end up parenting my kids the way you have so far and especially recently.

God, I can’t even begin to tell you what I’ve been up to. Literally.

I’m working on a project to upload. I’ve got way too much other shit to do. I need to find a specific form that I know that I’ll never be able to find. I keep frappin’ overdrafting my stupid checking account. $60 of my deposited $80 went out the window, and I’ve got freakin’ bills to pay (I’m not even spending money on things to spoil myself! I’M BUYING FOOD TO FEED MYSELF WHEN I WORK BECAUSE I CAN’T GO HOME AND EAT DINNER.). And I’d very much like to rip my hair out.

What an awesome summer vacation; I’m as much on the fritz as I usually am at school. Wonderful

It’s not even her fault. YOU’RE the ones who don’t cover up the food like sensible humans would in a house with animals. It’s a given fact; if you leave food exposed, an animal, dog or cat, WILL go and eat it. You STFU with any bullshit on your dog being “well-behaved”, Derek, before you even SAY anything. He definitely stole food AT LEAST ONCE IN HIS LIFE. In the meantime, cover up the food, RINSE OFF THE DISHES instead of being all hypocritical “oh you guys NEVER rinse anything off” bull crap, and thus Millie can’t get to the food, no matter how much she tries. At least she’s not pissing on the fucking counters, you idiots.

Secondly, Millie is old. She is old meaning that she’s not young, meaning that you all can, one of these days actually kill her. Did you ever take that into consideration.

Finally, and most importantly, Millie is a cat, but she is a living breathing creature. I don’t give two fucking shits if you’re “disciplining her” or not, you are abusing her. I don’t see you taking a broom and beating one of us, therefore you have NO RIGHT to take a broom and beat her. I bet neither of you would like it if I took a broom and smashed your faces in, now would you? Now take that, and multiply it by 20-50. That is probably how Millie feels, you assholes.

DEREK especially; you keep telling us to get to the dishes before you “kill Millie.” I don’t care if that’s not literal; IT’S FUCKING WRONG, AND I DON’T FUCKING APPRECIATE THE FACT THAT YOU BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF MY CAT FOR DOING SOMETHING YOU COULD HAVE EASILY PREVENTED. Next time you do it, maybe I’ll beat the shit out of YOU with a broom or a bat, SEE HOW YOU FUCKING LIKE IT. I swear to fucking god, if I find out that Millie ends up dying because of any one of you and that fucking broom, I will take that broom and fucking break your faces in with it. Take that broom and shove it up your fucking ass.

You said I “threw a compliment back in your face”? How the hell is “why do you wear such skimpy clothing?” a compliment? You implied that I’m trampy! And, for your information, I’m definitely NOT FUCKING TRAMPY YOU ASSHOLE. Oh, and in case you didn’t get it the first time, I DON’T wear “skimpy clothing”. The clothing I wear is perfectly FINE. Since you’re too blind to tell, my Myspace default pic is a picture of me showing off my NEW BATHING SUIT! How is a bikini skimpy?! YOU WEAR IT IN PUBLIC.

The next thing I am going to confront; all of your insults. I’m sorry, I don’t care how pissed off you are at me; I don’t take being called a “fucking whore” all too well. I’m not a whore. I don’t date just anymore, and I most certainly don’t fuck just anyone either. Oh and, I’m not going to die any time soon, I’m not going to hell (but YOU probably will), I’m not worthless nor am I a piece of shit.

Among other things, of the two of us, I think YOU’RE the one who’s wasted MY time. I didn’t realize how much of a PMSing bitch you were, and I didn’t realize that you’d flip out over the TINIEST things/nothing like some pre-pubescent loser. You have no right to tell me never to talk to you again. I’M THE ONE WHO WANTS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU, AND YOU NEVER FUCKING TALK TO ME AGAIN. Until you actually GROW THE FUCK UP AND ACT YOUR AGE, I don’t want to deal with you. You’re not 12 anymore, you’re 20-21. You’re an adult; ACT LIKE ONE.

And I don’t understand it!!! I don’t know why I don’t understand it!!! I’ve been working on my statistics homework for nearly 3 hours, and it NEVER takes me this long to do homework! OMFG THIS PISSES ME OFF!!!! So FUCK IT!!! FORGET THIS STUPID ASSIGNMENT!!!

I’m ridiculously pissed. Like, WOW pissed.

Excuse me while I go shoot myself.