I've wasted my morning converting something from Corel WordPerfect 8 to Corel Quattro Pro 8. Not only this, but when I changed the table to a function, the sum of all the numbers listed was considerably less than what they'd told me – I double checked the function and it isn't the function; my supervisor's math must be wrong.
I forgot to mention a lot of things in yesterday's entry. Right now the thing that springs to mind is the awful robe that my grandfather got me for Christmas. It's made out of pink chenille and looks like really fuzzy corduroy. I hate pink, but that isn't the issue here. The issue is that while the robe looks lovely and soft on the outside, the inside is actually hard, slightly rough, thin ridges that irritate my skin and nipples, even through the fabric of whatever flimsy nightshirt I happen to be wearing. When I bother to wear one under the robe. So the robe has forever been relegated to the status of, "If I'm desperately poor, I might find myself having to wear it so I'm not getting rid of it."
It doesn't help that my grandfather always buys my mother and I the same things. I feel like a clone.
My mother and I are on amicable terms once again, mainly because neither of us even so much as tries to bring up the argument about me moving in with Dirk. I'm moving, and that's that.
The incident on Monday demonstrates one of the reasons I'm so keen to move out: the lack of consistency in this household. My mother says we do things one way, then goes right ahead and does it another, then doubles back and screams at people because we're doing it the way she does it as opposed to the way she told us to do it. Case in point: she thinks we're fat and we need to eat low-cal, low-fat food and cut out all the extras. She bakes numerous pies and pushes them off on us, whilst simultaneously bringing "goodies" from work for us. My father brings home some home-made candy a coworker gave him and she has a big ‘ol fit, screaming that he's trying to make her fat and that he's forcing her to eat.
She makes decisions and doesn't stick to them, thus giving us all hope that she realized her decision was stupid, but then freaks because the original decision isn't being upheld by anyone in the household. This has been my whole life. I don't remember living with any kind of certainty. I can't stand people like that.
She's also hypocritical and self-righteous. Shacking up with someone shows that you're a slut who doesn't deserve the honor of being married, unless you're her and were actually married to someone else when you were shacking up with the other person. Lying to people is wrong when the person lying is anyone but her. Drinking is bad because she was a fucking lush right up until I was two. Her daughter (which is me) lacks the ability to choose friends and/or lovers because she has yet to start hanging out with someone who's rich.
Sometimes I forget why I hate my mother so much, and then she reminds me. We were getting along so well. She actually seemed to understand where I was coming from, and then she reverted back to her old hypocritical self. I don't know why I allowed myself to believe she was getting better, and it always hurts so much when she proves that the only interests she has at heart are her own, because she doesn't want to look bad in front of her family. As the old southern saying goes, it doesn't matter how much lipstick you put on a pig, it still isn't something you want to kiss.
Oh well.
Piff. I just got informed, via my guestbook, that Tom Foley isn't the speaker of the house. I'm assuming she could be right, since I don't pay any attention to politics. I don't think I've ever heard of Tom Foley before, but I only watch cartoons.
That's it for now. Tomorrow, I will tell you the story of what Nikki's been up to all this time. It isn't all pretty.
