molly the undead
you THINK you know...and you probably do
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I fucking hate when i sit down to dinner with the family
and they ask me how my day was. And if i don't go into
horrifically boring detail to begin with, they continue to
ask in 3 minute intervals, thus ruining whatever meal i am
pretending to enjoy at that particular time. Who ACTUALLY
cares about how anyone's day was?
No one. That's who.
It's a pathetic attempt at "small talk" to make mother and
her husband feel that they have created a socially
acceptable and politically correct family environment. And
it makes me want to vomit.
And on that note, i think i'll take some midol and head off
to my pre-bedtime nap. :)