Fuck Me

If I were able to right now, I would go out and get drunk out of my mind. So drunk I’d pass out.

You know the GTO I wanted? Well, it’s gone. They sold it.

The car looked so promising. It was in very good condition and at a great price. I had gotten my hopes up about finally getting new car. I should have known better. I’ve had my hopes up many times before just to have them shattered for one shitty reason or another. You would think I would be used to it by now, but this time was different. I was closer than ever before. It was just out of my reach when it was snatched away. But, it’s gone now and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Why did this happen, you ask? My mom dragged her ass calling the bank to get a loan. She finally called Thursday, but the guy she knew – the one that could get us a sweet rate – was out until Monday. Had she called Monday when she was supposed to and said she would, I probably would have had the car Tuesday. But, I had no control over that. That was completely in her hands. I couldn’t get the same rate she could.

My parents, who would have to co-sign the loan, insisted we get the loan through our bank, because we could get a better rate, which is probably true. However, if you never contact the bank (or in this case, procrastinate your ass off doing so), you never get the loan thus never get the car. Next time, we’re financing the damn car, whatever it may be, through the fucking dealership. No bullshitting around getting a loan.

But, my mom loves this. She didn’t really want me to get the car anyway (the reason she dogged around calling the bank). She acted like she did though. She acted excited when we were at the dealership and even told me the car fit me exactly. But, my dad told me the truth when we were driving to my aunt’s new house last Saturday. Huh…

My parents were the ones who broke the news to me. They had gone to town and, to prove my dad wanted me to get the car, driven by the dealership to see if it was still there. Well, it wasn’t. They called me to tell me the bad news. I contemplated having some bad news (bad for them probably) of my own when they got home in the form of coming out. I decided against that, but I was still pissed beyond belief. I felt like punching something, shooting something, cussing someone/thing out, or all three all at the same time. If my mom had tried calling the bank earlier in the week, it wouldn’t have been a problem. I could understand that and be fine with it. That’s not what happened though, and I won’t soon be letting her forget that.

Hey, if they don’t want me moving out, they have to deal with my bitchiness (which is a direct result of their – well, my mom’s – actions, or lack of actions) while I’m here. I dream about moving out every day of the week… *sigh*

So, pass me another one! I've got several more to go to forget about all this.