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[More] Sitcoms in the Morning
2006-06-22, 4:43 p.m.

WARNING!!!! If you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of reading things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is okay to read, save yourself, and me, the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, I.E. my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. This I hope you keep in mind, and thank you for reading.

I've had to get up minutes before 7:30 in the a.m. to take my mom to work, and then drive The Fat One to her...day camp...or whatever the hell that is. Whatever it is, I love it...it gives me the most beautiful time away from her. You know, sometimes, in the past, I've felt bad about calling her "The Fat One," and it's not that I want to talk about her, but she is the shit-stain on the underpants of my life, which I must point out...is not in my pants. Its weird how she puts a stain on my life, yet...isn't in my life at all.

She claims I know nothing about her...and sometimes really wants me to be in her life...or something. Like, I recently drove her to volleyball practice (not in the morning), and I was in a pretty good mood. So, you know, I didn't want to disturb my good mood by just not talking to the bitch in the front seat with me. So I talked...and then she talked...and talked...and talked!! She was talking about this weird coach she has and how he is really awful to her. I'm not gonna think too much of it, but she seriously has nothing positive to say...and she's always talking about school and volleyball...yet she says I am the one who always and only thinks about my own self.

But she doesn't deserve a name in any post I write.

I get myself way too worked up when she's around. I mean, since I've had the house to myself, I like it tidy. And I'm so glad I cleaned up the kitchen (and the reasoning behind my cleaning was that The Fat One stressed me right out in the morning) because Mom called before her lunch break...and told me to make her something.

So I got out macaroni and cheese...got out the milk and butter...then the tuna and peas...and put some seasoning in it to top it off. And with a brand-spankin'-new kitchen...and a spice rack next to the stove...I had my own fun. There are so many other things I need to learn how to cook though.

Nona is a fantastic cook...she's entirely Italian...and it's beautiful. Somehow my dad became an amazing cook...and his brother is an amazing (for all I know) cook. I mean, food's good, and you have to eat the rest of your life. Also, as Robert Rodriguez says, "knowing how to cook is like knowing how to fuck."

And I shall master both arts.

Now...what do I like to eat? I love Italian food. I include pizza as Italian...but I can already make an okay pizza. I need something I can master. And this is why I am still jealous that Diana went to stay with Nona and Papa and I didn't.

~~

Anyways...I got the Fat One out of the house this morning...and wanting to keep a somewhat tidy house...I asked her to take care of the nail polish that she's had on the living room coffee table for three days now. I kindly asked her...and then, when we had to leave...I asked her again. When she claimed that I shouldn't be asking stuff at the "last minute," I reminded her that I had asked her before.

Why does that get me worked up, though? I tell you, I have the most amazing amount of self-control. Whenever I TALK to her...seriously...I get worked up! I get stressed! My palms start sweating. I get nervous. It's not even anger...it's more like I'm afraid of her. But I'm not. I could take that bitch's lights out any day...but I haven't. And she used that against me, because she knows I wouldn't.

It's like a subconscious, psychological reaction I have whenever she talks down to me. She's a psychopath, I kid you not. But you don't need to know that...you'll only see one side of her.

She took care of her nail polish...made a big deal out of it, talking to herself (as if she was talking to me)...yet it shouldn't have been a problem.

She's the biggest over-reactor in any situation. Yet...it's completely normal...with her.

~~

I came home, made a huge sigh...and was thankful the war was over. But this morning, something different happened...driving her to her place this morning...I was shaking. I was eerily nervous in that car. I don't know why. It was just that feeling...I needed her away.

But when I got home, only then was I okay.

I took off my shoes...shook things up by keeping my pants on...and...I don't remember what I did for the hours before 10:00a.m...I cleaned up a little (but that didn't seem to take that long). Anyways...at 10 in the a.m..."Everybody Loves Raymond" came on.

And it was one I had never seen before.

I watched it as if it was a new episode...I watched as if it were years ago, and it was my scheduled time to be in front of the television for a viewing of "Raymond." And all my problems...all of them (suddenly it seems like I have a lot of problems this summer)...they went away.

I was a kid again. I was sitting in front of the TV...it wasn't unbearably hot outside, 'cause it was morning...I was up and at 'em before my usual wake up time...I was ready to enjoy a nice, long, summer day. And with a new episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond," I was laughing at the television again, which I haven't really done in a long time.

It felt so good. Thank you, sitcoms in the morning.

But all good things must end...the episode ended...and it was a really good one. It was about Raymond having to give a speech...and left any acknowledgement of his wife out of it! So he went back, to his column, and wrote her a really sweet memory...about how Debra's smile started his life as a writer...

...and I almost cried.

The writers of "Everybody Loves Raymond..." you've done it again. I love you guys...why'd you have to leave me?

I almost couldn't bear that episode coming to an end.

But all good things must end.

Is sooner better than later?

I have yet to find out.

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