Seriously, what's wrong with me? I was home three weeks ago for my dad's birthday, but only for the evening. My parents looked so sadly pathetic I felt the need to make them feel better; so, I agreed to spend this weekend at home (well, first it was last weekend, but I had to push it back). I don't want to be with them for a whole weekend! That's near the top of the list of things I least want to do. (Along with stick my hand in a fire and go see Dave Matthews live... okay, okay, they aren't that bad. Virtually nothing's that bad. Except maybe country music. Yeah, that's right, the Dave Matthews Band is just as bad as redneck country music. Worse, maybe, because it is more insidious.) Anyway, I wish I weren't the "good" kid. I don't want to go home this weekend.

You have to understand, it's not that I don't like my parents, I do, but they are getting crazier by the day. They're just unbearable. Maybe I can tell my kids they died saving orphans from a sinking ship of something...