Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

This Just Proves, as Usual, That I Am Fucked Up

I get more google hits from that damn blue carrots entry than you can even fathom.

I'm actually not over that. And now they have added strawberry pieces to Honeycombs. What the fuck is that? Nothing is sacred?

I get the lovely task of asking my dad for the money so that we can still go to this wedding. Otherwise my husband has to humiliate himself and call his grandmother to admit that he can't come. In the big scheme of things mine is definitely the lesser evil, I even volunteered to do it, but man I don't want to.

I hate asking my dad for anything. Money especially.

Actually I hate asking anyone for anything. I don't know why that is. People are nice, they want to help you. I guess I feel like I shouldn't ever need help or something. Monica and I talked about this once. How if I feel like I have been wronged I will stand up for myself and ask for anything. But I can't ask for anything just as a nice thing for the other person to do. This was after I made her ask some one in the cafeteria for a bowl for me to borrow.

I am not proud of this, but it's completely true. I know my dad doesn't mind loaning me money. He has done it without question before. He knows I will always pay him back (of course I had just about paid what we owed him) and he never makes me feel guilty about it either. I just hate asking.

I wish I could ask my mom. But she doesn't make money decisions in their house. So, I have to swallow my pride, try not to cry and ask my dad.


I would only do this for J.

6:19 a.m. :: comment ::
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