'Tis the season to be jolly
December 28, 2004, 10:19 p.m.

The season to be jolly has passed, and in my house, we have plunged down into the depths of pissiness, bickering over everything under the sun. We have ended up worse off than where we started, being nasty and cruel to eachother in order to piss each other off.

I'm (not) ashamed to say that I am one of those people.

Indeed, for the past two days, my sisters have been ganging up on me in order to piss me off. Jazzmyn has taken a liking to hurling things at my instrument and turning up her little radio when I start practicing.

"Why do you have to listen to your music so damn loud?" I would ask.
"Why do you have to practice?" she'd nastily respond.

My sister is an idiot.

Today, I heard my sisters talking about Pioneer's full name after I called him by it via phone. I mean, it's kind of hard to mishear something like his name, especially when you're standing right next to the door of the room.

But because one person said they weren't saying anything, the other jumped on the bandwagon, trying to make me feel stupid.

"See, Allison, you always think you right. You think you the smartest person in the house."

Despite the latter sentence being true-- I am the smartest in the house-- the former isn't necessarily true. I know they were talking shit, because that's what they love doing. And to get me back for my mental superiority to them -- the girls who have brains as big as an ostrich's-- they will try to belittle me for doing so.

This turned into some huge fight where Jazzmyn starts callling me an idiot.

"I'm not the one with the F in chemistry. And I'm not a fatass," I reply.

"You callin' me a fatass? Look at you!"

"Excuse me, Jazzmyn, but I weigh 110 lbs. Only person who thinks that fat is an anorexic. How much do you weigh? 180?"

"You tryin' to talk about my weight? What about your arms?"

"What about--"

"What about--"

"--your entire fatass body."

"--your arms."

Often, our arguments drift off onto eachother's boyfriends, such as last night's argument:

"At least my boyfriend ain't gay," says Jazzmyn.

"Does it look like my boyfriend's gay?" asked I. Because really, every time I kiss him he gets a... nevermind. The point is, he's not gay.

"Yes he does! Melode thinks so too! Everybody does!" To my sister, her and Melode make up the entire world, because the only other people in her life are the guys that have fucked her, then dumped her.

"You want to talk about gay boyfriends? Look at your faggot-ass boyfriend [no offense, Jimmie]."

"How the fuck is he gay?"

"Are you kidding? He talks with a high-pitched voice, and I could've sworn I saw him walking with a limp wrist. You tryin' to talk about my boyfriend? Your boyfriend even got these long-ass manicured fingernails! And he's got a lisp!"

"He does not have a lisp!" Yet she didn't deny everything else.

"And anyway, at least my boyfriend is intelligent, unlike your stupid slow-talkin, faggot-ass boyfriend."

"Excuse me, Evontroy gets As and Bs on his report card!"

"At Norland!"

"You think you so much better than everybody else 'cause you go to Krop! Norland ain't easy, Allison!"

"Excuse me, Norland is a fucking F school. You want to talk about intelligence? It's not at all hard to get As and Bs at Norland. I bet you I could make straight As there!"

And so the fight continues. Jazzmyn starts attacking my intelligence and my "laziness" with her 2.5 weighted GPA, while I retort with my equally, if not more eloquent comebacks with my 4.2 GPA.

It takes a lot of nerve to call someone lazy when they still can't do simple addition. If you can't do it, and you have no mental retardation, or anything of the sort, that's just laziness.

So for two days, my sisters and I have been bickering. For two days straight it has been two-against-one. I suppose they do it because they believe that their minute amount of brain power combined will equal to that which I pump out every milisecond. They generally stil fall short.

Oh, the life we live is sad.

Happy Holidays.

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