Part Two

And so my damn day continues, just as I expected. My dad came home after a grueling 5 hour work day. He's sitting on his ass, watching basketball, drinking an entire bottle of wine, nagging me about what a good-for-nothing I am. He proclaimed that his duty in life would be to make my life unbearable. I believe him, and you know what, he doesn't know that he's been accomplishing that for all my life. He went on and on: "No wonder you don't have any friends. No wonder no one likes you. You're too fat. When are you going to move? I'll make sure you'll want to move..."

He then kept coming into my room just to bother me. To make my life a living hell. Last year, almost exactly one year ago, my dad made me write and sign a "contract," promising not be rude to him. I explained to him just because a contract is written doesn't mean it's automatically valid. There are exceptions. Duress, my friends, makes a contract invalid. He's such an idiot. He made copies of it and barged into my room. He then began placing copies of it on my desk.

I'll tell you one thing my dad is great at - frustrating the shit out of me! He's a damn pro.