A Case Study of Hysterics in the 20th year

I'm not supposed to be here right now. I'm supposed to be upstairs, packing and doing laundry, the usual lame-ass shit that needs to be done prior to a big move. I guess the reason why I'm hedging is because my dad still won't budge and let me rent a truck. He seriously believes I can fit all my stuff in the Ford Explorer. The man is, clearly, insane. I'm bringing two television sets (unless he's got a problem with that too), two large suitcases, five large boxes, one medium-sized box, one computer with all its doodads, and maybe my bamboo blinds that's currently hanging in my room. And now, since my brother recently purchased a Game Cube, I can add to that a Nintendo64 (oh joy!).

I haven't been able to sleep at night because I keep picturing all these boxes and suitcases, and not being able to fit in the truck, and me eventually having to give in and say, "Okay, I see your point, I've got a lot of shit, now will you please let me get a minivan!", when all I really want to tell him is, "I told you it wouldn't fit! I TOLD YOU SO!"

Obviously, I'm having issues here when there's really no need for trouble. All I need to get is one of those vacuum-sealed baggies you see on TV: I hear you can fit like 15 sweaters in those suckers and lay it flatter than Tara Lipinski's chest.

-- Okay. There was no need to mention that. I apologize.

I can't really be all second-gradeish and bitchy to my dad, though. I'm on enough thin ice as it is. This weekend, during our cook-out, they told everyone in attendance that I've been a sneaky little varmint, opening their white chocolate belgian liquer and almost finishing it off save for, oh, maybe ten drops.

"I didn't think you'd drink it!" I said, to my defense. "It looked old and I didn't want it get to waste!"

"It was a wedding anniversary gift." my dad said, not unkindly, but still my cheeks burned.

"Oh I can buy you another one!"

"I don't think you can afford that with an English degree," my mother said. Okay, ouch. There was no need for that low-handed remark. And come to think of it, I don't really know what they wanted to hear. "Yeah, it was good and I don't regret drinking it!" or "I'm so, so, sorry, please forgive me!" They didn't look pissed about it, though. I think they just wanted a chance to see me squirm. Plus, I think my mom's a little proud of me. She'd always said I couldn't find my nose if it was right in front of my face.