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Fuck. Off.

Under my breath, I told my grandmother to fuck off.

See, every day I have to run some fucking errand for her.

Today, I just ran down to the Mini-Mart for some cigarettes, because I only had the pack I was smoking and I started having an anxiety attack. She asked me to get her some too.

Fine.

I get back, hand her her change, and she says, "Oh, I just have you running around all over for me."

To which my reply should have been No, grandma, it's okay.

What my reply actually was: I'm NOT going any where for you tomorrow.

And, because I'm feeling like she's just about the most manipulative woman on the planet, she HAS to have the last word.

She says, "Well! I'm not cooking tomorrow!"

At that point, I walked away. Under my breath I said, "Fuck Off."

Because, who's going to go get dinner tomorrow?

Me.

And who's going to have a fucking fit all day because she doesn't know what we're having for dinner?

Grandma.

And, you know what else this means? This means I have to be home in time to get her dinner. This means I have a fucking responsibility to take care of on my day off.

This also means I poured half a fifth into a can of coke. That will no doubt lead to a series of angry emails and posts telling people to fuck off.

7:02 p.m. - 2003-04-25

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