- August 24th, 2009
Well, hello. I'm Fluffy. My mom's at work right now, today is the first day of her new job. It is 5:00 pm here in L.A. I guess to understand who I am, you have to understand what my circumstances are. Here we go. As I mentioned before my mom ("Mama Fluffy") has her first day of work today. She's working in a furniture store. We can't get our hopes up too much because Mama Fluffy is somewhat of a job hopper. She's had jobs that have lasted 3 hours, jobs that have laid her off because they're going out of business (this is the most popular reason for her losing her job. Anyone remember House 2 Home? Linen's and Things? How about the Great Indoors? Levitz? That's just four companies that no longer exist that had Mama Fluffy on payroll, there's more, but I won't waste your time). P.S. Yes, I still live with my mommy.
Anyways, after over four years of unsteady jobs, she's got one. And she's the only one in this household who has. "Cletus" is my bio-father, but I don't consider him my real dad (sad, yes, I know, but when you're dad threatens to hit you, cusses you out, and encourages you to steal, do you really think he's a good roll model?). He and Mama Fluffy have been "separated" (I'm nineteen and I still don't know what that's supposed to mean) for five to six years now and every year I ask Santa for my parents divorce, which he never gives me (only of the many reasons I think Santa's a jerk). Cletus thinks he's real cool, but he's just a jerk who watches game shows all day. He lives with us because as an electrician (oh, excuse me, he said "I ain't no electrician, I'm a truck driver" never mind that he doesn't even have his regular license, let alone truck driving license.) the economy has been hard on him... okay, so he's also to lazy to look for a job himself (see electrician/truck driver comment). Anyways, being irresponsible and blowing money frivolously are a couple of his many charms, so he lost his apartment (What do you think happens if you don't pay rent?) and Mama Fluffy was forced to have Cletus stay in our garage. (Woo?) But stay in the garage he does not. He comes into the main house, lays around and watches TV while complaining that there's no candy.
Also in the house are "Heidi and Spencer." Heidi, my sister, and Spencer, her husband, have an eight month old boy, "Blanket" (of which I'm am Nanny). Spencer just lost his job at a theatre "ACME Movies" and now spends all day playing in a virtual reality instead of helping his wife take care of his child or going to church. He also eats out a lot.
"Jack," my gay brother, also jobless, is actually looking for a job. He applied at Target, but because of a misdemeanor couldn't get the job. He likes to go out but recognises that he lacks the money to do so. This makes him bitter.
The last house occupent (besides myself) is "Britney," who, at 17, is still in high school. She's the average teenager who bounces between boys. She might even be more messed up than I am, but she never says. She's always gone, so I doubt she'll be mentioned much.
So that's it. One house, 7 1/2 people, and one of them is serverly depressed... and needs a Prozac upadge. My doctor ("Dr. Pain") has wanted to put me under "phsyiciatric observation" whatever that means. I think it means a hospital, but no whenever I ask my mom she just opens her eyes wide and says, "oh, honey, you don't need to worry about that stuff." She doesn't know that I can hear her and Dr. Pain talking in the hall while I take a pee test. I always feel bad for listening in, so I just walk in and they drop the conversation.
So that's it. My day consists of waking up at 10ish, watching a marathon of classic Doctor Who episodes, eat a few junk food items, attempt to write that book I keep talking about, maybe a nap, read a bit, and eventually go to bed around one or two a.m. But that's useless because my nights hold such terrible sleep, that if I just skipped sleep all together, I'd probably be more awake during the day.
Mama Fluffy is home now, she says her day was very boring. "So when's your final day of work?" I ask her. She smiles, mentions that my room is messy, and invites me to help make dinner. We're having tacos. With ground beef. And a couple of the gross taco seasoning packets they sell at the store (Cletus says that's the only way he makes taco, and they only way they should be made. I tend to disagree. We live in a heavily Mexican populated neighborhood. I know that at least three of our neighbors would die an early death if they found out we are using seasoning packets tonight (we normally don't, but Cletus was whining so much about the 'lack of flavor in the tacos'). I miss real Mexican food. Pit fall of being white: can't make proper Mexican food, no matter how hard you try).
That's it for now. I've run out of steam. I'm going to go back to Doctor Who. Today, we are meeting the Daleks on their home planet.