Hm, yeah foul language, I do that only when I'm very extremely mad. Sorry.







MOM... why the **** are you trying to push my out of the nest like you're some goddamn cuckoo bird? Everyday you ask, "When are you moving? When are you going to be out exactly? I want my office back!".







I tell you the same date, every time. September ****ing 1st, give or take a few days.







At least Tim and Jason offered me their couch to sleep on, and Sarah's mom their spare bedroom when I talked about your bitching and moaning to them.







For chrissake! Ever since the minute I turned 18, you've badgered me about moving out. Then you push me into getting that quad... nice theoretically, but I can't live in a cracker box... I need space! You've just never understood me.







Thank god for Sarah finding that town-house to pull me out of that effing quad situation. Quite frankly, I can't wait to move out because you're driving me nuttier than squirrel shit!