I have come to realize something.
That something that I have come to realize is this-
BOTH of my parents are COMPLETE IDIOTS.
My dad twists everything around until it serves its purpose, half lying almost constantly.
He called me today while he was at work, and said I could finish painting the hallway if I wanted to. I asked him about going to Becca's graduation party, and he said if somebody other than me wanted to go to, then sure.
So I painted the hallway. Not only the hallway, but also the front entryway and the doorway.
I asked Allison, and she said she wanted to go too.
So he comes home, and has a hissy fit.
"Why aren't the dishes done? Why are you watching TV? Your rooms are messy," etc. etc.
When I asked him about going to Becca's, he got even angrier and started shouting about how he had said "MAYBE" and that he would have taken us had we not been sitting in front of the TV, doing nothing.
So, if we had taken a longer time painting, or even started later, we would have been perfectly fine by his reasoning. We would be doing the same amount of work, but he wouldn't see us taking a break so it's okay.
AND MY MOM.
Puts up this huge front of being happy and all this jazz even though we all know she's been clinically depressed forever. She whines that Dad never does anything around the house, and how she works so much, yadda yadda.
She goes in to work around 2 pm, and comes home at 9 pm. Sometimes she'll take on extra hours that she doesn't want, but this is entirely HER fault since she "can't say no". When she gets home, she gets on the computer and plays around with her sex stories and games on neopets. She spends money to make herself happy, so she ends up buying TONS of junky books online. Not just any books- sex books.
It's disgusting. She's my mom. I know that she's a person too, but as a mother one should have to take responsibility for these kinds of things, right? I don't want my 11 year-old brother to see your sex books, dildoes, and "warming jelly" all over the place, okay? I want you to stop wearing my clothes, because 1) they're tight and you're fat, and 2) they're my clothes, and I intended to wear them, until I saw you in them and decided that I want nothing to do with those clothes anymore.
Honestly, it's not rocket science.
You're getting a divorce because you're unhappy.
I have more to say, but I think that's enough before I bust a blood vessel or something.