For the love of god, WOULD THE ASSHATS OF THE WORLD PLEASE STOP FOLLOWING ME!!!!!!!!!

This is the point at which CJ hates the world. Feel free to pass on by.

First, the departmental blackmail that ate my finals week and caused me to take the incomplete that I didn't want. Fucking fucktard.

Next, the uncle who openly encouraged his son's bullying, then goes on to act like a bigoted moron. Yes, uncle name-withheld, I went to high school with black people. Surprisingly (to you), they did not shoot me. Or each other. Nor did my school fear this would be the case: even now, almost seven years past my graduation, they have not seen fit to institute metal detectors, though many of the pasty-faced suburban schools around here have.

Finally, my father. Daddy Dear. The one who says he wants me to do him a FAVOR this weekend (funny how he tends to view favors as obligations). I said, "call me closer to the weekend, so that I can tell you what my schedule looks like." Yesterday: no dad. This morning: no dad. This afternoon I come home to a fucking passive-aggressive bullshit phone message: "I guess I'll have to wait ANOTHER month to get the help I need." I call him back, tell him that was inappropriate, tell him I'm free now. He then SHOOTS HIMSELF IN THE FOOT and says he's too tired now. Jackass: you are NOT hurting me when you do this. If you're being an ass, I don't WANT to see you. After that message it's a fucking miracle I offered.

I did the first of my holiday shopping today, and bought a travel book and map for myself. My favorite cousin is going to England in a week, so I helped her pick out a book as well. I am now going to take a bath and plan my summer, and forget that I'm stuck here for another five months before I can tell assorted asshats to fuck off for a month -- or more.

EDIT: Oh, web denizens, why must you join in the asshatery? All I want is an mp3 of my favorite irritated!me song ever. But NO! You fail to realize that Salt 'n Pepa have released more than five songs. Yes, I'm a child of the eighties. This does not negate the profound stress relieving effects of "Somebody's Gettin on my Nerves." Yet, I own only half of the song, on a battered old mix tape. My stress, it is not relieved. Oh friends, do not let me suffer. Surely, there are enough people who are as uncool as me that, between all of us, we can come up with my song. For the alternative option is for me to brave the x-mas shoppers and venture into a music store. And no one wants to see the post that results from that.