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Saturday in Nebraska

It snowed this morning and my wool coat has come in handy. I'm glad I didn't haul it here for nothing.

My dad's cat has turned out to be psychotic. She clawed and bit me last night for no apparent reason. I turned her off my lap and refused to let her jump up again. She wasn't happy.

My dad has made some bigoted remarks about Jews, Cubans, and Mexicans. I'm holding my tongue but am not happy about it. I know he's too set in his ways to take kindly to any comment.

I knew I would forget something on this trip and it turned out to be two things: my motion sickness pills and my deck of plain playing cards. My dad has stated that he isn't interested in learning any new games (I guess that's where I get it from) and that he can only play cribbage for a little while before getting sick of it. So we're left with lots of empty time again. At least I was able to buy Dramamine at the airport, so the forgetting of the motion sickness pills (I usually use Bonine) wasn't a disaster. Of course, at the airport they cost a mint, but at least I was able to get them. I wouldn't have been able to fly without them unless I was willing to spend 5 hours vomiting up my internal organs.

For some reason, Sargent has an incredibly loud siren that sounds several times every day. I mean like an air raid siren. It goes off at 7am, 12pm, some other time, and 10pm. The one at 7am is the real problem, since it wakes me up. What a pain in the ass. And there's no apparent reason for it. I'm sure there must be a reason, but I have no idea what could possibly make someone think this was necessary. It's not like they have tornadoes four times a day every day.

My dad is doing better today, though. He's even walking without a cane, though his gait is lurchingly uneven. He cooked dinner last night and then made me some scrambled eggs this morning, and he refuses to let me help with the cooking or the dishes. I feel useless.

No other news. I'll head back out to these people's living room where they're watching some sort of game that has them shouting every once in a while. It's really nice of them to let me use their computer.

I hope all y'all are doing well. I miss Shannon.

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( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
cartman94501
Oct. 23rd, 2006 01:50 pm (UTC)

Cats can certainly get weird. It's hard to tell what's going on in that pecan-sized brain. Tess went mental yesterday and was guarding the towel she was sleeping on when Amy was trying to put it away. They had a major showdown, and Amy won, but not without much hissing and attempted scratching.

My father-in-law is in town this week, and yesterday he made some comment about a guy in a car wearing a turban and how he probably had a bomb under it. I patiently explained to him that Muslims don't wear turbans, but I probably should have just kept my mouth shut because he was just baiting me.

I think old guys are often bigoted because they had shitty lives, working hard at thankless jobs for low wages to support the family they never wanted but got roped into having by the priests who told them that premarital sex and birth control were sins, so getting laid = having a nagging wife and a ton of kids you can't afford. And they look around them and see other people living better, and it pisses them off. They're not smart enough to admit that their fucked-up lives happened because they stupidly believed a bunch of bullshit spewed by smug, self-serving altar-boy fuckers, so it must be because the "others" are less moral than they are.

Of course, your Dad might not be Catholic, so this may not apply, but in general, people look for other people to blame when they don't like their lives. I like my life, and any shortcomings it has are my fault, or at least within my power to make better. Why? Because the self-appointed morality police can kiss my hairy white ass. And I'm not bigoted.

Or they may be bigoted because they're just bigoted. It's small comfort, but bigoted people get a lot less out of life than non-bigoted people, and I think on some level, they know it.

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