Huh.

May. 25th, 2010 11:18 pm
cheloya: (HARK >> unrestrained admiration)
Sometimes, you sit back and you think:

Huh.

Huh.

My stepfather really was a controlling, emotionally-manipulative, bullying son-of-a-bastard.



For the record? It is really not smart to listen to people just this side of NPD when they tell you bad things about yourself. Like that you are selfish when you are introverted, or that you are not physically healthy enough to do something you just fucking did, or that you are going to be responsible for your brother's inability to deal with women.

(I just do not even know about the last one, wtf.)

Really fucking stupid. So if I can move past the crushing guilt whenever I do something for myself, or disagree with someone, or say no? That would be awesome, and sensible. Rational self-interest, brain. Honestly.
cheloya: (DISNEY >> nothing suss)
Well, Craig never called back, so I guess that answers that fucking question. Kind of fucking sick of this, clearly, but I'll live.

Have had pizza and ice cream and feel sick but perversely better as well. Suspect I actually did this because when John called to pick up James, this conversation happened.
JOHN: I hear your meals have been a little simplistic.
ME: Um. Not really. I've mostly been making stir-fries, because they're fast and I have no time, but...
JOHN: Oh. *surprised* That's good. I thought you'd been eating noodles.
ME: I had one cup of noodles. Once. As a snack.
JOHN: Oh.
Yes, 'oh', you fucker. A man who goes to the gym nine times a week and still has a paunch like yours has no call to be making comments on my dieting habits.

Apparently the way to prove this was through pizza. No, I am not two years old.

Proposal is going terribly slowly, but not quite as terribly as it was last week.

Having said, that, of course, the familiar twinge has developed in my forearms. So we shall see how much dusting I can handle tomorrow, because Alan doesn't do a goddamn thing.

[EDIT] Yyyeah, you know you're in a bad way when not even PSOH seems interesting. Fucking cry moar, Rave.

OH ITUNES

Jun. 22nd, 2008 08:46 pm
cheloya: (TSUBASA >> force-feeding)
Best follow up to Enchanted's "How Does She Know" ever = the romantic concert theme from FFVIII. XD Oh, Squall. You are a robotard.

[EDIT] Tee hee hee.

Okay, so, for the record? When Mum and John split up, John said a lot of things. One of the things that he said was that he'd struggled for the entire marriage with (the shame of) my mother's weight problem.

Also for the record, my mother's weight problem is nonexistent, as anyone who has ever met her will be able to tell you. XD She's got a small frame, and she pretty well keeps it that way. She's never been unhealthily overweight, though she might have tended toward soft, like, immediately after pregnancy.

Anyway, Mum and John both went to the doctor for James' frequent nosebleeds the other day. And apparently John is... well, let's not say rotund. Let's say 'chunky' because we are kind. His eyes are yellowed, his skin is pallid. Certainly heavier than me in terms of relative frames.

This is the man, ladies and gentlemen, who scoffed when I said that I had walked from one end of South Bank to another twice in one day, as if I were incapable of doing such a thing because it was simply too much physical activity! The man who told my mother she was overweight! The man who told my mother she wasn't trying hard enough when her back was fucked up and she was not, therefore, going to the gym every day!

:3 Yes, folks, I like to crow my vengeance from the rooftops. Mum said he looked like he was lined up for a heart attack, and I say to you, dear readers: we can only hope.
cheloya: (RAND >> darling please)
Apparently John thinks he paid for my schooling.

*SNORK*

Truly, his powers of self-delusion are masterful!
cheloya: (Default)
No, seriously. How many times can I change my layout in one day? It's been dozens, I swear, and I still can't make the layout that I want work. ;A; There is some sort of horrible problem with a zero-sized reply. Only the code that I want doesn't work. I would cry, but there's no point crying over CSS because it would involve me crying all the time.

In any case, I can make my hypothetical AtM header work with this. :3 So, you know. That's all I need.



[EDIT]

Don't you call me 'sweetie' on the phone. Don't you fucking dare.

Why cry over CSS when I can cry over other things? )

One day he won't make me feel like this. And it'll probably be the day they put me in the ground.

DDDDDDDDD:

Apr. 8th, 2008 04:50 pm
cheloya: (Default)
WHAT. WHAT. THAT DID NOT JUST HAPPEN. D: Thief doesn't get stabbed! What the hell is this, 8BT! And why don't I have any icons of you! D: The next comic had better be really, really good to make up for this, because, seriously. Thief does not get stabbed.

I have half of what I need for the draft stuff tomorrow, but I'm starting to flag on it a little bit. I think it's just that... this has to be written to show how well Chaz knows his passengers, but other than that, these people aren't important. Well, two of them aren't. And I'm already impatient to get to Ash, but I guess not-writing isn't helping that at all. XD I don't know. Five hundred words in is my limit before the akjdhfa sets in? I don't know. I still feel like writing, and I feel like writing this, but... not this specific part just yet. XD Beginnings are difficult. And... yeah. I guess I'd better get back to it at some point.

I just had to speak to John on the phone. It was for about thirty seconds, and he only said about ten words, and none of it was bad and I'm still feeling sick with nerves. So much for being over the whole thing.

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