I hate your family. Really.
I hate most of your friends, too.
You know those work boots that you loved and made me move from house to house because they were in such good condition? I threw them out when you weren't looking. And come to think of it, you haven't looked for them for some time, so that proves that you didn't really need to keep them in the first place!
You know how I tell you to roll over when you snore? Sometimes when I am pissed off with you I tell you to roll over even when you are not snoring just so I can watch you mindlessly obey me.
Of course I'm sometimes hungry when we stop by your parents house, but I'll never be able to eat anything from that nasty kitchen.
When I talk about writing my blog and you wave me off with a dismissive sigh? Makes me want to put my foot in your ass.
I will divorce you for leaving wet towels on my quilts. I'm not kidding. I will also cite leaving the toilet paper roll empty, coffee grounds in the filter, and your shoes in every damn place you can.
Getting angry when I cry is NOT the way to comfort me. I'm SAD, I'm UPSET. Being pissed off at me doesn't ease those feelings. Just let me cry and get it over with. I can be reasonable after that! Just look sympathetic and say nothing.
You didn't get a present for Father's Day because you didn't give me a present for Mother's Day. You aren't getting a birthday present either because when mine rolled around you didn't do squat for me.
I want to hire people to mow our lawn because you do such a half-assed job, but I don't want to deprive you of the pleasure of doing your only household chore.
I know that the great "Adding Bleach to my Work Clothes" fiasco of 1995 was your way of insuring I would never allow you to do my laundry again. Mission Accomplished, Chief.