:: Oh, Look, A Tumbleweed ::

:: Thursday, February 10, 2005 ::

It really shouldn't bother me, but I am tired of my family never even bothering to call me if they're going out to eat on a weeknight. This is about the fifth time they've done this since Ragtime started and it's really kind of bothering me. I understand they assume that I won't be able to meet them, but I have told them numerous times that I get out at six, and, furthermore, the least they could do is call me to see if I can meet them somewhere from school. But no. They just up and go and so I'm surprised to come home to an empty house and when I call them to see where they are, they're at a restaurunt. Oh, and how to resolve this? They'll bring me their half eaten dinners. Oh, that's a great consulation. Like, tonight, my mom was like "Oh, well, dad will bring you the rest of his salad." Hmm, okay, except my dad eats like a fucking horse (And he needs to stop, I worry about him) and he also always gets ranch dressing and bathes the salad in it and I despise ranch. Second of all, she sounded like it would be perfectly acceptable to just offer me this half eaten salad and, quite frankly, it's really kind of bothering me that they never even bother to tell me.

They're my family. You would think they could make a simple phone call and ask.

:: Nick Thursday, February 10, 2005 [+] ::