It's been an odd couple of days. There have been various stress factors, but for some reason I don't feel like I'm overly stressed, probably because the emotional region of my brain has shut down for fear of overload.
Firstly, this e-mail from my mother:
-------- Original Message --------
Date: Thu, 26 Jan 2006 21:29:45 +1100
dad is going to go very soon
just hope you will get to see him by the time you arrive
friday i'm having a meeting with his doctor they said they could do nomore
hoping to have him home to die but because i was sick i don't know if this
will happen trevor will have to talk to to the doctor as well i'm very sad
can't say too much let you know the result
mum & trevor
I wish I knew how to react. I've been hearing for so long that Dad's condition has been worsening and that he has been bleeding continuously and losing weight that I don't know whether to really prepare myself for his death or wait until I hear more news. I can't decide whether to break down and let something out or just hang on. Actually, I'm not sure if I have a choice, everything's so bottled up right now.
The next worst thing to happen to me this week was theft. Someone, somehow, got hold of my credit card number and used it to rack up around $400 worth of purchases online. The purchases themselves are confounding. First, $364 on Kmart.com. Then, an undisclosed amount on the Fredericks of Hollywood mail order catalog. That charge wasn't approved because the thief didn't have my correct billing details on the order, and Fredericks always cross-reference addresses for large orders (good on them).
The third charge is the most confounding of all: a ten-dollar donation to the Red Cross. What the fuck? Someone steals a credit card and gives ten dollars' worth of stolen money to charity!? I couldn't believe it. Is it a modern-day Robin Hood, stealing from the paycheck-to-paycheck middle class to give to the poor? Did she suddenly have a pang of conscience after buying a lot of frivolous junk? Was an acquaintance of hers affected by Hurricane Katrina or something?
I felt so horrible calling the Red Cross to tell them to refund the donation, but if I'm going to donate to a charity, I'm going to do it on my own, not because some cuntarsed miscreant chose to do so for me. They were very understanding and organized, unlike Kmart, who were rude and unhelpful, as usual. No wonder I don't shop there.
Kmart refused to allow me to dispute the charge myself; they will only speak to banks directly about unauthorized transactions. So while the red tape machine grinds into gear, the order has shipped, making a piece of shit somewhere out there very happy to receive free goods, while I'm out $364 for at least a month, and possibly two.
Remember the fucker whose lung I want to violently extricate? Maybe it's all the underlying stress, but he managed to aggravate me even more this week. See, another reason I hate him is because he's a blindly following, gung ho, dipshit Republican. I've had conversations with him about politics in the past, and he makes me sneer hard enough to cleft my own palate. He spouts forth every possible Republican cliche with no justification whatsoever. For example, he's said ridiculous things in the past about liberals being pro-communist that have literally made me want to ditch my anti-gun stance, buy a giant rifle with a sharp-looking front sight, and fuck him up the arse with it until he whistles Dixie.
This week, I unwittingly struck up a conversation near him about Zell Miller's recent behavior, and he decides to chime in with how "pro-life" he is. "It's a morality issue!" You know what? Fuck off. On top of your party-fed talking-point opinions, you have no fucking redeeming qualities whatsoever, you untalented, unintelligent, uninteresting, uninspired, unattractive social retard. I'm sure half the reason you're not concerned with a woman's ability to have a legal abortion is that you'll never actually have the opportunity to knock anyone up - unless you get a job in a coma ward, which I wouldn't put past you. Part of me wanted to enter into a proper debate with him, but I can't put up with his slurpy fucking mouth noises and creepy little mini orgasms for even as long as it takes to say, "I disagree," so I bottled up my anger and instead dreamed about travelling backwards through time, convincing his mother to have an abortion, and feeding his still wriggling fetus to my cats on a string.
In good news, I made another corset.