BABY PRODUCTS SAFETY RATINGS

So today was pretty much the worst day of my summer.

I woke up with a migraine wishing I would have taken a damn vicodin like the other night. It was like after 9 and I was supposed to get all this stuff done so I was already discouraged.

I go down about 11-12 to the MVD (DMV for out of towners) to get my ID. so the same friggin woman who made me do loopholes galore to get social security card and transcript stuff said they dont accept school transcripts after 2007 or some bullshit. I mean I could have gotten her first directions wrong and it was a transcript I needed from school.

But whatever. My mother of course said how much of a waste of time it was for her and cried (who the hell cries over something so retarded? when the person it directly affects isnt even THAT upset) so she was a horrible bitch to me the entire afternoon. I got snapped at for "making pointless fights" from my grandmother because I simply corrected my mothers always tainted information.

I wanted to make Frank's Yukata today. 1. because i want to make him one 2. because thats all i could think of to do with my grandmother to entertain her

so we found a pattern ut it wasnt in stock at Jo Anns... she drags me to Michael's and then Hobby Lobby (i bought some cheaper materal pretty much again my will) oh and the most annoying part. After talking for an hour about spending all this money at Kmart when she was bored on my cousin's crap like clothes... she makes me use the graduation money she gave me yesterday to buy all of it. not just material and a pattern but pins and all the other stuff.... I have a whole 11 cents left

so we get to her hotel and she tells me to cut out the pieces of the pattern we need. then she nags me for being slow and too perfectionist. =_= then when i go to fast she looks at me like im a moron

the other annoying part was my foster cousin Angel called (as always) with some major crisis. She got prgenant at age 16-17 and then again like 18-19 and she left the newborn with her bfs mother and litterally left it there. Then her bf dumped her... so shes homeless with a 2 year old (well she was staying with friends but they have to kick her out by tomorrow cuz they are leaving supposedly) so what does my grandmother do. She offers to buy her a studio apartment and buys her a week in a hotel.

i mean yes i am glad she is not on the street. but I am so sick of being complimented for being a good kid but never getting treated like i deserve shit. If I got pregnant with Frank's baby and we needed money i KNOW she wouldnt give me squat.

i found out she is probably lying about her hearing.

if i say something quiet about what shes talking about she hears me

when i try to bring up something about myself or anything that interests me even if its loud she just ignores me

im so glad shes leaving.

and then she had the nerve to say i had an obligation to always love my parents and live close (basically). shit im leaving in a year. for good. to the SUnshine State

but whatever.

I had an awful day. Im pretty sure the Yukata looks bad because i didnt have an ounce of fun. She ran me like an idiot sweatshop worker rather than trying to help me learn or have fun.

im tired of putting myself out there and trying to do something other people like to make them feel welcome.

everyone from now on is expected to go with me to anime conventions, movies, play tennis and eat picnic lunches. =3=

i was so mad all day and in pain from a still lingering headache/migraine I just took a picture of a sad hand touching my acient sewing machine.

Okay, what a weird combination of people, but I guess sophomore year was like that. It's me, Carrie C., Tim and that dude in the baseball hat in the back -- I don't remember his name, and i can barely remember him. Why were we all in Santa Monica? I seem to remember we had to drive someone to LAX, and decided to go to Santa Monica on the way back for the hell of it. I don't know.

But we all lived in the same dorm -- Petersen Dorm -- and we all, like, partied! Whoo! we were CRAYZAY! And Tim had to have all the parties because he liked having the control. Carrie always psychoanalyzed everything. Dude in baseball hat, no idea what he did.

Me -- I was never in my room because one roommate was overly religious (she found me puking after an all night "Star Trek Drinking Game" marathon and said, "I think we need to talk to God about this," and I told her she could talk to whomever she wanted -- I was going back to bed) yet she broke the rules by having her boyfriend spend the night and her pet poodle living there. She was always on a diet, and wouldn't go down to the cafeteria, making all her meals in the room. Her parents also lived about 10 minutes away, so they would pop in all the time. Great fun to be sitting there, watching MTV smoking a cigarette in leggings and a sweatshitrt and hearing, "Yoo hoo! Anybody home?" Yep, what every college student LOVES. My other roommate was from Norway and she knit a lot and her favorite movie was Dirty Dancing, so she played the soundtrack over and over. And over. And over. She was having the time of her life, but I was ready to put Baby in a damn corner. My third roommate had been kicked out a few weeks into the semester -- she had looked like she had walked straight off the carnival midway, complete with menthol Virginia Slims, fringed boots, feathered hair, and rose and Tasmanian Devil tattoos. She was a peach and really scary -- she was 19 but didn't look a day over trailer park 40 -- but I was sort of disappointed because when she got booted, I became the bad roommate. And I was.

But it was like living with two old ladies. They had chintz and doilies and Bibles with embroidered bookmarks as "coffee table books" and even an old poodle, and liked to watch "the soaps." In retrospect I feel bad about being so obnoxious, but I was only 19. So were they, but whereas I was nineteen going on, well, 20, they were 19 going on 90.

At the time I thought my little room, big enough for a bed and a dresser (and not enough room for 400 albums and cassette tapes in milk crates but I managed) was totally soundproof. They went to bed at 9 every night, so they could get up and do quiet Bible study. I, on the other hand, stumbled in on weekends (and sometimes weeknights) at the ungodly hour of eleven and would turn on the radio. And sometimes I even had friends with me. We'd SHUSH all through the common area, then go into my room (directly adjacent to theirs) and turn on the stereo and start talking and laughing, like we were far away, while they tried to sleep under their cabbage rose comforters with their teddy bears and Pierrot dolls.

Poor Gro and Lisa. Sigh.