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Home Sweet Home

Well, it’s been a while since this site has been updated. Christina’s been busy being an adult and I’ve been napping on my couch. Anyway, I thought I’d post a little rant doing what I do best – complaining.

There's No Place like Home?

Like many recent graduates, I moved back home after my own graduation. Why? Well, I’m at that stage where I’m not sure what I want to do with my life. Should I go to Graduate School? If I do, what field? What kind of job do I want and in what field? In pondering my future is the reality of living at home again. Now, I really love my family and my home. I love my fat cat Sammy, catching up with my sister, and eating food that I didn’t have to prepare. What’s different now is that I don’t go back to school on Sunday nights after “Alias.” Now, I realize why people need to move out! Here’s just a list of the “joys” of living at home.

“Grandma? Could you please not pass gas in front of company?”

Is there something that happens to you when get reach a certain age? It’s like all manners and proper human decency disappear. I know we’re family and all but still. (If I ever see the love of my life or future husband picking his nose or any orifice of his body, it’s just over. Orlando Bloom, that’s your warning.) Just the other day I heard my Grandma tell the same bowel movement story not once, not twice but FIVE times to different people. I thought I was going to yack at the fourth telling. Also, Mom likes to explain her passion for Prune juice, “it really cleans out the system.” Things that I don’t need to hear! Dad’s not so bad, but he likes loudly chew during meals and he eats as if he’ll never eat again. It kind of makes you lose your appetite when you sit next to him at the table.

“You’re going out? Where? Who? When? Why?”

I don’t know if this is how it is with every family, but once I change out of my “Adopt-a-Cat” shirt and plaid shorts circa 1991 and decide to leave the house comes a barrage of questions. It’s like some radar goes off and Mom or Grandma’s ears perk up, “Are you going out?” I mean, it’s really not so bad. I know they’re just concerned but personally I think they’re plain nosy. Sadly, I’ve inherited this gene and will probably be just like my Mom with my kids. It really gets a bit excessive when a mere phone call elicits a, “Are you going out?” Or when I went to the bathroom and my Mom asked my sister, “Where did Karen go?” Good gawd! I went to the bathroom! I mean, what’s the big deal that I’m going to Target? I don’t know what’s worse, answering their questions for me or answering questions about where my sister has gone, “For the last time, she went out!” I feel like the next time I go out I should stop in the middle of house and yell, “Attention! Attention! Don’t get too excited! I have changed into jeans! I am going out!” If you have a nosy mom out there, you know exactly how I feel. Thank Gawd, Dad’s in a food coma much of the time and doesn’t have the energy to be so nosy.

“Did I ever tell you about the time…?”

My Mom likes to tell the same stories over and over again. Hmm, wonder where she gets that from? Grandma and her bowel stories *shudder.* What’s even worse is that sometimes she’ll start a story, pause, and never finish it. I know she’s expelling great wisdom, but it’s really annoying when you’re trying to see who got evicted off of “Big Brother 4” or if the Russell Crowe look-alike is running away again from “the OC.”

“Oh, the call waiting beeped. I don’t know how to use it. Oh well, whoever it is will call back.”

People who call my sister or me always say that nobody was picking up our phone. This is because my parents don’t use or know how to use call waiting. It’s a very simple process that my cat can probably do. The phone beeps, you click over. What if it there was an emergency? Oh well, if it was they’d call back right?

“Dad, can you turn it down a few notches.”

My family is really loud, especially when on the phone. Do they think that the person on the end can’t hear them? I’m surprised they can’t because at that volume, people in Canada should be able to hear. It’s especially bad when it’s early in the morning, oh say around 7:30 am on a Saturday. It’s just really grating.

Sometimes it’s the little things that can really get under my skin. I mean, I complained about living at school so home is no different. As Banshee Christina pointed out, “We could be in paradise and still find something to complain about.” This doesn’t mean I don’t see the bigger picture. I’m grateful that my parents let me move back home and mooch off of them for a while. I appreciate how much they’ve sacrificed so I can have a great life. But if I hear another incomplete, loud, bowel movement, food crunching story - I’m going to scream.

Sorry there weren’t any pictures in this rant! But wait! Coming soon (Maybe), Friendster fiends, hot British guys, and why the Olsen Twins really are trolls.

written by karen

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