I haven't posted anything to this blog in a really long time, mainly b/c we just got high speed internet at home (literally a couple days ago), but here goes a poorly thought out attempt at it. This is just a small list of some of the things that have happened to me while I've been at home for no more than a month from school. None of these stories have been embellished, b/c they need no embellishing (Scott/Tom: name that paraphrased quote). This is just a short peek through the insane window that is my life at home. They are in no particular order, but just as they came to mind.
-I took a crap on another crap already in the toilet b/c my father likes to save water from the shower in a bucket while the water warms up and then re-use it to flush the toilets in the house (if you pour water into a toilet, it flushes on its own – don’t ask me how, it just does). He bitches me out if I flush the toilet and after so many weeks I have eventually given in. To answer your question, “No”, the initial poop was not mine. I can only speculate as to who the poopetrator was. And let me say that I almost vomited during the experience. A new low point in my life.
**by the way, I’m writing this from the computer at my church where I’m filling in for the secretary today, making this entry all the more awkward**
-I have not been allowed to drive a car when it has recently snowed while I’ve been at home. My dad doesn’t trust me not to crash it. So he has to drive me everywhere and I have to have friends drive me home. (side note – pretty much every time I’ve borrow one of our family cars since I was 16, my dad has told me not to wreck the car as I’ve walked out the door)
-I have had to shovel the driveway at least 6 times since I’ve been home. And you may ask, “Why 6 times? It hasn’t snowed that many times since you’ve been home.” Well, my dad likes to have me shovel the driveway every 3 inches or so b/c he says it gets too difficult after that. Best of all, we have a snow blower, but of course I am not permitted to use it and my dad won’t use it when I’m around b/c he’s getting free manual labor and can save the money on the gas.
-I wear a coat and hat often times around my house (literally) b/c the thermostat is set to 63 degrees. When I decide to get a little crazy and use my stealth like ninja moves to sneak into the dining room and bump it up to a balmy and selfish 65, my dad yells at me and immediately changes it back.
-My dad continually tells my mom that either I ate like 4 double cheeseburgers from McDonald’s for lunch, or that Deloitte has withdrawn my job offer, or that I lost all of my money gambling. All of these claims are of course not true. But by the time my mom gets home from work she either tells me that I need to lose weight, inquires about my job situation, or tries to counsel me for my gambling addiction. The best times are when she starts crying b/c I tell her that she’s insane and that pretty much everything my dad says is a lie.
-I got a flat tire while driving home from a scam interview to sell Cut-co Knives door to door (they didn’t tell me that when I went in for the interview). When I pulled the car into a neighborhood and called my dad to let him know, he told me to just wait in the car and that he’d be there soon. I had looked around the car for a spare tire and had not seen one, so naturally I assumed that he had to come in person b/c the car didn’t have a spare on it. Little did I know that there was a spare underneath the car that he chose not to tell me about. While I could have been changing the tire myself, I sat there for about ½ an hour waiting for him to come, freezing my ass off b/c he told me not to run the car and waste gas while I waited. When he arrived and got the tire from beneath the car and changed it, I stood there in amazement at the fact that he would rather drive ½ an hour out of his way to change a tire, while I froze in the car, than guide me over the phone through changing the tire myself.
These stories are only a tid bit of the sheer absurdity of my life while living at home. I may seem very pissed off about these scenarios, but one unexpected benefit has occurred while I have sat here typing. Getting these stories out on virtual paper has been a truly calming experience. I feel as though a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. So basically I’m saying, if you don’t find these amusing at all, I don’t really care, b/c I have benefited from writing them.
Until next time,
-M-
-I took a crap on another crap already in the toilet b/c my father likes to save water from the shower in a bucket while the water warms up and then re-use it to flush the toilets in the house (if you pour water into a toilet, it flushes on its own – don’t ask me how, it just does). He bitches me out if I flush the toilet and after so many weeks I have eventually given in. To answer your question, “No”, the initial poop was not mine. I can only speculate as to who the poopetrator was. And let me say that I almost vomited during the experience. A new low point in my life.
**by the way, I’m writing this from the computer at my church where I’m filling in for the secretary today, making this entry all the more awkward**
-I have not been allowed to drive a car when it has recently snowed while I’ve been at home. My dad doesn’t trust me not to crash it. So he has to drive me everywhere and I have to have friends drive me home. (side note – pretty much every time I’ve borrow one of our family cars since I was 16, my dad has told me not to wreck the car as I’ve walked out the door)
-I have had to shovel the driveway at least 6 times since I’ve been home. And you may ask, “Why 6 times? It hasn’t snowed that many times since you’ve been home.” Well, my dad likes to have me shovel the driveway every 3 inches or so b/c he says it gets too difficult after that. Best of all, we have a snow blower, but of course I am not permitted to use it and my dad won’t use it when I’m around b/c he’s getting free manual labor and can save the money on the gas.
-I wear a coat and hat often times around my house (literally) b/c the thermostat is set to 63 degrees. When I decide to get a little crazy and use my stealth like ninja moves to sneak into the dining room and bump it up to a balmy and selfish 65, my dad yells at me and immediately changes it back.
-My dad continually tells my mom that either I ate like 4 double cheeseburgers from McDonald’s for lunch, or that Deloitte has withdrawn my job offer, or that I lost all of my money gambling. All of these claims are of course not true. But by the time my mom gets home from work she either tells me that I need to lose weight, inquires about my job situation, or tries to counsel me for my gambling addiction. The best times are when she starts crying b/c I tell her that she’s insane and that pretty much everything my dad says is a lie.
-I got a flat tire while driving home from a scam interview to sell Cut-co Knives door to door (they didn’t tell me that when I went in for the interview). When I pulled the car into a neighborhood and called my dad to let him know, he told me to just wait in the car and that he’d be there soon. I had looked around the car for a spare tire and had not seen one, so naturally I assumed that he had to come in person b/c the car didn’t have a spare on it. Little did I know that there was a spare underneath the car that he chose not to tell me about. While I could have been changing the tire myself, I sat there for about ½ an hour waiting for him to come, freezing my ass off b/c he told me not to run the car and waste gas while I waited. When he arrived and got the tire from beneath the car and changed it, I stood there in amazement at the fact that he would rather drive ½ an hour out of his way to change a tire, while I froze in the car, than guide me over the phone through changing the tire myself.
These stories are only a tid bit of the sheer absurdity of my life while living at home. I may seem very pissed off about these scenarios, but one unexpected benefit has occurred while I have sat here typing. Getting these stories out on virtual paper has been a truly calming experience. I feel as though a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. So basically I’m saying, if you don’t find these amusing at all, I don’t really care, b/c I have benefited from writing them.
Until next time,
-M-
6 comments:
This is simply, horrifyingly, the story of your life as a short, stocky, slow witted bald man.
HA! Nice Scott :p
Mark,
This is the most hysterical thing I have read in a while. I am literally tearing up laughing so hard in my room. I have never posted a comment on this blog and I was almost sure that I never would. However, I must give credit where credit is due. Well done sir.
Mark-
I always thought such stories of your home life were false. This blog has revealed the truth. I'd like to express my utmost sympathy to your by gone childhood and present adult life.
I was told by a friend today that "Surely, this cannot be true!". I can vouche for its accuracy although, personally I have never shat on top of another peron's shat. That is a new low that only my brother has sunk to.
haney, your stories continue to amaze me. thanks for sharing and entertaining me. by the way, your writings are much better than tom's
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