Greetings all. I am pissed, the fuck, off!

*smiles sweetly, with teeth*

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Explanation pending.

I really don�t want to understand my Father right now. I am so� furious. Well, okay, so furious isn�t exactly right, but still, I�m really ticked.

The story in a nutshell�

I was upstairs today, with my oldest nephew and his wife. We were in the living room with Dad. (This is Bing�s oldest son. Bing is Dad�s son.) Anyway, I was up there to look through a couple informational packets Michael had for a business he�s interested in starting. He wants to do something on the �Net and I was pulled in cause I�m the local �Net maiven, so to speak.

It started with entering the living room. Dad said to Michael that he had finally �found� his Pepsi (indicating that someone had hidden it from him intentionally) and then offered one to Michael. He did this in front of me. He did NOT offer me a Pepsi. He did not offer me a glass of water. He did not even look at me. He didn�t talk to me. He didn�t even acknowledge my appearance.

I let it go, figuring that Dad was being, well, Dad.

Regardless, I was looking through the information Michael had and giving him suggestions. There were a few things he was looking into which are really just money makers for the people who sell you the service. The people are looking for chumps who don�t know diddly about the �Net. So I was telling him what was a good deal and what wasn�t.

Dad, not to be outdone by anyone, especially me, started flipping through his tons of magazines and wholesale outfitter catalogs and started pulling stuff out for Michael. If I was going to be giving Michael advice, Dad had to top it.

*growls*

So, I just let it go, figuring Dad was just, well, ya know, being Dad. And the topic turned to movies. Michael, Jodie (the wife), who are 23 and 21 respectively, and Dad were talking about the movies they thought were absolutely hilarious. They were talking about the Rob Schneider movies and some from��.. damn, can�t remember his name right now� the guy who starred and all that from Mr Deeds. Among many others.

Anyway, the three of them were talking about how wonderfully hilarious these movies were, that they were the height of comical entertainment. *shakes her head* Dad was speaking very loudly, very vocally, about the wonderful comic properties of these movies. And I was listening to him, somewhat confused but remaining silent. I was confused because Dad has condemned and criticized these kinds of movies and the actors many times, very loudly and very vocally.

*shrugs*

Anyway, again, I just let it go.

Then, Dad pointed at me and attempted to humiliate me by pointing out that the most stupid movie in the world was my favorite, Encino Man. Dad was laughing about how I liked a �stupid� movie. I stated, quietly, that yes, I used to like the movie a lot, but it wasn�t one of my favorites.

I was ignored.

I let it go, figuring that Dad was just, ya know, Being Dad.

SO� then the three of them start talking about a gentleman I know. They were severely badmouthing him. This is a man who operates a gas station and turns the profits over to charity. He has been doing this for quite a few years now. He doesn�t get paid for his time or effort. He pays his employees what he can. He hires people who are in the system� recovering addicts, recovering alcoholics, people who need a break. He provides them with that break.

And Dad, Michael and Jodie were all insulting him, slandering him, calling him rude names and talking about how two-faced he was and how evil and wrong and nasty he was, that he was a cheat and a druggie and that he drank all the time.

*shakes her head*

I couldn�t believe that. I was listening to what they said and I could feel myself growing colder and colder. It hurt to hear them slandering this man so. The part that hurts most is that Dad knows I respect this man and what he does. Dad was egging Michael and Jodie on. He was asking for more gossip. He was getting louder and more vocal and adding stories of his own.

The thing that pisses me off so much is that these three people are the same ones who were defending and praising the no-longer-local tattoo artist and husband. These are the same three people who were hanging out with the tattoo-ist who is a known Meth user and a known Heroine dealer.

These three people were badmouthing, slandering a man who has never, ever done anything wrong in my hearing or sight, puts all his effort into providing a little stability for the folks who need it most and couldn�t get hired by anyone else. A man who works to provide for his community� they slander him, and praise the crack-whore married to the parolee.

Damn it, I am so fucking pissed off about this.

But what did I do? I left it alone. Dad was being a son of a bitch and Michael and Jodie were right there with him. I left it alone. I sat there, in silence, cold, angry, but so completely hurt. And then, when I�m about to go downstairs, Dad tells me to post another thing on Ebay, our previous price having been 15.99 for an item he paid less than a buck for. He tells me to put another one on and charge 25.00 for it.

*shakes her head*

I can�t believe it. There is so fucking much greed in that man� so fucking much greed.

Isn�t a 15 dollar profit enough??? Not for him, of course.

*growls and leaves before she does something bad*

Okay, I�m back now. And, it�s about three and a half hours later. I just watched Minority Report. I was not impressed. Maybe it would have been better on the big screen, rather than my little TV, but I still wasn�t impressed.

What I�ve noticed is that Tom Cruise has been putting out some rather unimpressive movies as of late. In fact, I�ve noticed that a lot of movies have been quite unimpressive.

That really doesn�t matter, does it? Perhaps I�m just being pissy. That�s entirely possible.

I think that I�m just going to log off and go to sleep. That seems to be the wise choice, being as how it�s already 12:50 in the morning.

Dunno, maybe there�s just a pall over me as this is the 12th anniversary of the night I tried killing myself. Who knows?

Eh, it�s all good. I�ll sleep and, since I�ve already purged the nasty feelings in the upper portion of this entry, I won�t have to deal with them anymore. That�s one of the nice things about writing for me. Once I�ve written it out, usually I can deal with whatever is bothering me in a much more civil manner.

*chuckles*

C�est la vie, non?

Toodles