Is it a bad thing that I am sick to death of hearing about my brother and think my parents talk to much about him? It makes me want to scream or better yet, leave. I mean, he's a freaking adult. I always thought that meant you were in charge of things like supplying stuff for your appartment, but my parents think it means to buy everything not stupid on his little list. and why do we, or more importantly I (hey, let's be honest. I don't care if THEY agree to do something for him... as long as I'm not involved.) have to help with everything. Like moving in. ANd why won't my parents let me drive his stuff down by myself. My dad, who is also going, is a total drag who currently is annoying the hell out of me and makes me frustrated, mad, and slightly violent.
Okay, happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Oh, I've fallen in love. I'm head over heels wiht a pair of shoes. THey are gorgeous. So damn sexy. THough not as sexy as my new, slightly uncomfortable but not murderous black shoes. And yay for postcards from Emily! And... I'm running out of happy things to think about. Must get away from house, away from parents before words are said that would be as hurtful as possible because I'm feeling bitchy.