Wednesday, September 15

we are not amused anymore

it's late, but i still can't sleep and am waiting for my hair to dry, so i might as well stop putting off the exposition of what happened last weekend.

FRIDAY

after the shit-fest that was CreTh lecture [i rushed a PowerPoint presentation DURING lecture for my group's presentation, PowerBook and CanoScan in tow--yes, the CanoScan is a scanner. an actual scanner. i brought my scanner to school with me--and fingers on my Apple Wireless Mouse, clicking like a dervish, only to have Eugene Chen and Alex, group members who have contributed nothing thus far, insist on presenting it. they took over my PowerBook while i was in the toilet. idiot Eugene was fumbling stupidly with the plugs and remotes and mouse and adaptor, and i shook my head at the door as i stepped in a fixed it all up. they massacred the presentation, not the audience or the lecturer. they had no idea what was coming up when, or even what was already on the screen, and just shat all over it. the lecturer gave us full marks for the presentation anyway, because he could see the effort put into the presentation--specifically the PowerPoint slides--as no other group went to the same lengths. however he thought an Ernest--an actual group member, but NOT the one that slogged for the presentation--did all that work, and i was positively foaming at the mouth by then], my father returns.

woah. that was one long expository set of parenthesis.

yes. so he comes back from Papua New Guinea, notices that his twelve-thousand-dollar television set is missing, along with the rest of his liquor [most of it, especially the really good, expensive stuff, had been moved out long ago]. he gets pissed, kicks down the bathroom door and confronts my mother. note that my mother was showering whilst he was kicking the door down. so he shouted at her, [i assume] slapped her about, then kicked her out of the house.

how do i know all this, when i don't live at home?

my brother called, scared shitless. after he was done, my sister took over. evidently my father had too little blood in his alcohol/nicotine system. and you wonder why i don't like people who smoke or drink?

so i did what i could to assure him that it's okay, same for my sister, and then hung up to warn my maid not to go home if she could help it, and called my mom. no answer. when she called back later she related the whole thing back to me, without saying anything about whether she was slapped about [my mother may be, for the most part, shameless, but you don't bring up your own husband slapping you about just to get sympathy], and said that she was going to stay at her sister's.

SATURDAY

i woke up, heard my cousin's voice, thought it was okay to step out and clean myself up, opened the door and saw rosemarie wildly, urgently and desperately gesticulating to me that my father was here, mouthing rather dramatically the words "YOUR FATHER!" and pointing towards the kitchen.

i closed to door as quietly as i could, locked it shut, and went back to bed to listen to Eels, Garbage and Cake on my iPod until they were gone. too long a time. it was way past two in the afternoon, that's all i can remember. wasted time.

SUNDAY

first uncle's weekly visit, with my first aunt-in-law, this time also with my adulteress first cousin [she's not married, her boyfriend is. no one but a small handful of people in my family know, though]. similarly wasted time. though he did give me twenty dollars in more guilt money, though, so i guess it wasn't entirely wasted.

taking stock:

we owe half a million dollars to United Overseas Bank, who is giving us three months, with monthly payments of ten thousand dollars, before they kick our sorry arses out our door;
we also owe enough in maintenance fees to our condominium's MCST for them to be threatening us with a ten-thousand-dollar penalty if we do not pay up soon;
the Singapore Power people just dropped by today to, in my sister's words, demand payment, but my dad wasn't at home, he was here, sucking up/stalking me.

life is unfair. kill yourself, or get over it.

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