My nerves are getting so frayed that It's starting to affect my sleep. Just the other night I couldn't get to sleep due to unrealistic visions of my older bro committing suicide/killing my family/Me beating the shit out of my older bro. The first two are completely unrealistic, considering he's too lazy and spineless to do anything of the sort, but the last one...my god I've never been this close to actually wanting to beat the ever loving shit out of him. His laziness and bullshit just grow and grow and I take it and I take it and I'm getting tired of it. So tired, so tired, SO TIRED of it! I want him out of this house. OUT of this god damn house.

It's not just the older brother that's grinding my nerves, it's the younger brother. He's a lot like the older brother, which is ironic considering that he RECOGNIZES how much of a lazy bastard the older bro is. He's worse than the older brother because he KNOWS how lazy the Older brother is and He's acting lazy too, despite that he see's the problems it causes. Not only that, but he treats me like I'm inferior to him. Maybe it's because I'm not as VAIN as him, because I don't dress as nicely as him, because I could care less about my appearance and he cares more for his than his own brother, it seems. This morning he wouldn't help me get the garbage together to go out cause he was "Getting ready for school". Bullshit. He was tying a tie. When I get back from taking the garbage up? he's in a completely different get up! Just because he dresses better than me, has more friends than me, does not give him carte' blanche' to treat me like shit. It's because he doesn't take his medicine. He flat out REFUSES to take the dexedrine prescribed to him, so he acts irrational and impulsive. I'm sick of it, I'm tired of it, TIRED TIRED TIRED SO GOD DAMN TIRED. I'm giving him the riot act when he gets home, god damn it, and if he walks away from me I'm going to bury my fist into his gut. When i was his age at 16, I would get my homework done and still have time to do the housework I do NOW at 20. It's because he's taking on too much shit out of the house and comes home and treats me like It's my JOB to do all this house work.
 I'm sick and tired of being treated like shit by my brothers, god damn it. I do more work in a day than they do in a week, and for years I've been living with it on my back, and I'm god damn tired of it. I swear to god, if he mouths off to me today, it's going to snap me. I'll snap like a twig and haul off on'em. I've restrained myself for years because I'm afraid if I take a swing, I won't stop swinging, but by god I'm at the point I don't think I care if I stop.
God DAMN It.

"Members celebrating a birthday today: None."
My ass!!!

Has ANYONE here played it at all?

Tentatively titled "The Cats of Park Place." It's based on a joke made in the car one day about our cat Hailey.


   There I was, seven pounds of muscle and grace packed underneath my sleek black coat of fur speckled with orange, facing off against what could only be described as the scruffiest excuses of canine I’d ever seen. I believe The Humans called them ‘coyotes’, weird name for ugly dogs. The mutts back in The House were better looking than these things (and sure smelled better too. The rotten food pile ten yards behind me had a better aroma than these coyotes.) but I wasn’t much concerned with their looks at the moment. They were three times as tall as my feline body, and easily ten times my weight, their sharp teeth gnashing around me as they had formed a circle around me and one particular coyote.
The good news was that the alpha male of this group, going by the name of Al, had some history with me and wanted to settle it mano-a-mano, or in this case cat-to-mongrel, so he’d had his minions back off. The bad news was that he was the biggest of the pack with the sharpest teeth. His filthy tan fur stood up on end as his teeth barred at me, towering over my tiny frame as he dug his long nails into the dirt, coiling his muscles to pounce at me.
   “No truck to save you now, cat!” Al growled under his breath. Instead of responding, I dug my hind claws into the dirt and barred my own pearly whites, which were in fact white instead of Al’s sickening shade of yellow.
As he pounced towards me, his mouth open wide to no doubt engulf my head, I launched myself straight up and twisted, timing it perfectly so as his jaws snapped shut where I had been, I landed directly on his head like I was riding him like a horse, my hind claws digging into his back. Before he could shake his head to fling me off, I unsheathed my extraordinarily long front claws and raked them over both of Al’s eyes, pretty much blinding him not only for the rest of what was going to be a very short fight, but for the rest of his also short life. I quickly leapt forward onto the ground and turned to face the howling beast, blood running down his jowls as a paw came over his nose. Grinning oh-so-sadistically, I surged forward to his now unprotected throat and sank my fangs into the filthy flesh and fur. He yelped even louder and thrashed his head around trying to stop my assault, but I sank my front claws around either side of his neck and hung on for dear life as I chomped away at his jugular, blood flowing freely.
   After a minute of his wild writhing, he did finally manage to unhinge me at the cost of a chunk of his throat coming with me. I landed on my feet, naturally, and swallowed what was in my mouth, despite the nasty taste of dirt and grime, and leapt forward again with my claws slashing and my bloody teeth gnashing, repeating my attack on the side of his head. As he started to shake his head once more, I swung onto his back and sank my teeth into one of his ears.
   Needless to say, now that Al was blinded I tore into him, literally. By the time it was over, I was practically covered in his blood, and standing on top of his dead form, looking at all the bewildered and scared coyotes. I’m sure the surprise they felt was immense; that their mighty leader was taken down by this supposed house cat?
I spat out some of the fur and blood from my mouth and smiled at all the others.
“Anyone else want to keep hunting in my territory?” I asked politely. I didn’t even have time to blink before the entire pack was scurrying off towards the road, and the field beyond that. Good riddance to bad mutts, I say.
   I waited till they were a safe distance away before I started throwing up. The mixture of blood and foul coyote meat was something I did not want digesting in my stomach. Who knows what kind of disgusting things Al had rolled in before this?
As I continued to empty my stomach of Al meat, a fellow female feline came sauntering from behind the rotten food pile, a little larger and more rotund than myself with white fur that was darkened with smattering of black here and there. The feline came up to me and stared, her blue eyes small in comparison to the size of her head.
   “So, did that go well?” The feline asked, her tail twitching from side to side. After I finished puking, I hopped down from Al’s corpse.
   “I’m still alive, Emma. It went well enough.” I replied, narrowing my yellow eyes at my step-sister.
   “Just making sure. That’s a lot of blood, Hailey.” Emma looked me over, her tail starting to move in a concerned fashion.
   “It’s not mine.” I assured her, licking my teeth clean of the aforementioned substance.
   “That’s good.” She said, and then started giving me a rather funny look, like there was a question waiting on the tip of her tongue.
   “What?”
   “It was totally awesome watching you kick the litter out of that coyote, but what was the point? Won’t all those other one’s come back?” I sighed, and began to explain once again my genius to Emma whilst cleaning my paws off.
   “This is the last time I’m going to explain it, Emma. By knocking off the leader of their pack, I’ve done two things; one, I created a powet vacuum that—“
   “What’s a vacuum?” Sometimes I question her intelligence, and by sometimes I mean most of the time.
   “…One, by killing their leader, now all of them are going to fight each other so one of them can become leader. They’ll either kill themselves off or just beat each other to the point of exhaustion. Understand?” I said it nice and slowly for her too, between licks of fur. She nodded sagely, then asked another question.
   “What’s the second thing?”
   “Now they’re scared of me. I just killed their leader, the biggest, ugliest mutt of them all. Most dogs are cowards to begin with, so now they’ll be too scared to come back, at least for a while.” Emma sashayed her tail in understanding, then started to help me clean the blood off my face.
   “You know, Rommy’s going want to, like, say something about this.”
   “Big Eye Rommy? Why?”
   “You just killed a coyote. Worf once told me that not even Digits, the godfather of all Park Place, killed one of those things. It’s…like…what do they call it?” She searched her enormous head for the right word, but I highly doubt she would’ve ever found it.
   “Unprecedented?” I suggested, closing my eyes so she could clean off my eyelids
   “Yeah, in-presdented! It’s like a huge thing.”
   “Maybe she’ll name one of the water buckets after me.” I joked.
“That’d be awesome!” Suddenly both of our heads snapped up as barking filled the air. The dogs from The House had been let out, and were barking loudly at us from afar, behind the fence that separated The Field from The House. I sighed, and started to walk towards the pond, Emma right next to me.
   “Charlie and Zhanna. The Men must’ve let them out. Now all of Park Place will know.” I muttered.
   “But they would’ve anyway.” Emma pointed out.
   “Yeah, but I was hoping to at least put it off till morning. First thing now when I go inside The House tonight, Zhanna’s going to be right on my tail begging me to tell her the story, and I won’t get any sleep till I’ve told her at least ten times. I hate that little mutt.”
   “Could be worse.” Emma said. I gave her a sidelong glance curiously.
   “How so?”
   “You could’ve been eaten by Al.”
   “Good point.” Emma does have her moments of intelligence, as few as they are.
Welcome to my home. I’m Hailey, one of the Cats of Park Place, and this is just one of my stories.

 

eeeesh. Not Guilty.
PS. Beat anyone else to it! HAH!
PPS: Jackson's still boned, Career wise.

Feh.

My new avatar has conked out on me, so rather than waste time looking for one myself, I'm going to see if you people can find one for me, a better one!!!

The prize is: TAPIONS SOUL! And Darth Tom's helmet.

Considering my Bro's play is Thursday, I plan to get a picture with that Jay Leno wannabe......

...Oh the play is "Much ado about nothing". He plays the grandfather...and someone else.

Okay. It's known My father and I sell stuff on Ebay. And on occasion we end up dealing with people who either send their payment really fucking late or not at all.... And I just read a response to one of our items that's going to piss my father off to no end. Hell, I'M PISSED OFF.

We were selling these figures online, a Mr. Freeze and Joker from the ANimated Series toyline, and the guy that ended up winning it sent the payment....Two months after the auction ended.
So, when the transaction's complete, it's common courtesy to leave feedback. In this case, we put a neutral comment stating "Received payment two months after auctions end." Well, this fucker, in response to the feedback...

"sent $ by usps if paypal would have been an option $ would have hit immediately"

1: IT'S CLEARLY STATED on EVERY Auction we run; WE DO NOT ACCEPT PAYPAL. You have a PROBLEM with this, do not bid! Simple as that! Do not WHINE. DO NOT COMPLAIN.

2. A Money order/chell often arrives two to three days after mailing. His arrived TWO MONTHS LATER. What the fuck? DId he JUST learn how to WRITE? Jesus christ....

And not only that, we got an email now that says basically...
"Why 4 u leave neutral feedback? that's totally an-necessary(YES HE SPELLED IT LIKE THIS)! I'd be saying this 2 ur face but you'd only hide behind comments left on a keyboard."

...Motherfucker, I DARE you. I DOUBLE Dare the asshole to come say this to my face. Motherfucker better bring himself a gun too, because I'll kick his ass. Not only would I Kick his ass, my DAD would kick his ass, dig a hole out in our field, and bury the motherfucker alive! It's not a matter of "Keyboard comments", it's a matter of "You sent the payment two months late dumbass. What'd you expect? POSITIVE?" He's lucky we didn't leave NEGATIVE feedback.
Dumbasses. Stupid, motherfucking, dumbasses.

Lucky is cursing at me! I blame you Nuri! You turned Lucky and his sugary treats against me!

Now, this is the lazy bro I'm talking about. I go to bed at ten, wake up an hour later and listen as my parents and him are getting ready to go to the ER. Apparently as it turns out, he twisted his left testicle and had some emergency surgery done. Minor thing really...
We figure the only way he could have strained himself enough for something like that was a week or so ago when he threw a temper tantrum over "How nobody listens to me and does anything for me!" and broke his doorframe.

I love karmic justice. I really do.  

As I sit here with my big glass of Sparkling cider, with the rain getting ready to pour down like the walls of Jericho, and the house torn apart due to painting some walls, I can't help but look back at this year with a certain degree of despisement and contemplation.
This year has been the scariest year ever, with my Uncle Leonard's passing, my dad's Double Bypass, the passing of our beloved Dog Katy, and the list of numerical woes that have gone on. Saying that, This year certainly has changed me. I appreciate a lot more things now, especially my Father and the trials he's gone through.
That being said, I give this year a toast for its end and its role in my life, and I thank god it's over. I look forward to the new year, ten times over, and hope to god it will be as good as this year was bad.

Good news. Turns out her Lymphoma is confined to a single lymph node, so she's going in for Chemo Next week.

This year I have not been at this forum very much, I haven't posted much at all because this year has been arguably the scariest year I've ever had, and it just hit its peak this morning, and I just need a place or two to vent.

See, Earlier this year My Uncles Cancer took a very nasty turn, where his quality of living went straight downhill. he died about two months ago, but I have no regrets with that because I already told him how much I loved him. Then there's the fact my Mother's work fired her not once, but twice because of incompetent management, so she has been unemployed until recently, which means money is tight around here. Also this year, my father started having heart problems, which was topped off with Double bypass surgery ALSO about two months ago....So...He's recovered nicely, my father, and his heart is 100% healthy, so I was just beginning to feel at ease when my Grandmother, my last grandmother, found a lump. After two weeks of baited breath, the diagnosis is Lymphoma, a form of cancer. Not very cool, to say the least.
I love my grandmother, but now my parents have to face reality and are planning for the imminent arrival of my Grandfather, of who suffered a stroke a few years ago and is somewhat confined to a wheelchair. This place is not wheelchair accessible, we haven't the room, which means there's going to be construction work needed that we really can't afford to extend our house for him.

So yeah. Not a very Holly Jolly or Thanks Giving year so far. Sufficed to say I'm....very frustrated. Can't catch a break anywhere this year.  

It boggles my mind.

I'm taking this analytical reading class cause it's like the ONLY Reading class I have to take according to my reading placement test (OF WHICH I scored 148.5 out of 150 on. Booyah me.) And she's got us reading this book called "Amusing ourselves to Death" by Postman. My Brother had this class last semester with the same teacher, a Mrs. Dambrosia, and failed.
Yeah, it's kind of a hard book. From the chapters we've covered so far, it's basically making points as to how important reading and writing is and how much it's gone down hill. How our culture is best represented by Las Vegas, which is actually fairly true.
The trouble I'm having? Mostly retaining the knowledge. I'll read the book a day prior to class and go "OH YEAH I GET THAT!" and jot down a note...then the next day I'll forget, look at my note..and wonder what I was noting. I've actually taken to rereading the chapter a few times.
SO, I've been doing the work, reading the book, and Yeah a few quiz's on chapter comprehension haven't gone the best way for me, but overall I'm acing the tests, which focus more on vocabulary anyway which I am magnificent at, and doing well.
Why? Cause I'm doing the god damn work.
SO When people I'm sitting next to start to complain about how much work it is, about how repetitive the book is, what a bad teacher Dambrosia is, and how the class supposedly "Sucks"...I really have to resist the urge to growl in a low, menacing manner. Why? Because These guy's aren't doing the work. I know because She has us grade other peoples tests, and I graded the main protagonist of these complaints test....and I can say he's full of shit.
So yeah, I don't like the guy much.

Also as a sidenote, I asked the teacher about my Brothers performance. She said he was quite bright, but he was either the guy who always left towards the end of class or never did his work....and seeing as my brother has a history of doing the former(Never doing his work)....

Oy vey.