Father's Day (June 18, 2006)

Current mood:annoyed

Well, Father's Day basically sucked this year. Me and Rob got into it before I left work, and that had me ticked off and upset. So, I'm driving home, and by the way, I'd been asked to go out that night, and I didn't because I just didn't want to. I was feeling poopy. So, anyway, my drive home takes me right past Jonesville, which is where Dad's buried. Well, I get past Jonesville and kinda freak out, swung the car aroung in the middle of the road (hey, if your tired are crap, you might as well take advantage of it and do cool shit like that....) and headed back. Well, anyone who knows me knows I'm terrified of cemetaries at night (this particular night was dark and stormy.... how fitting.) because I have a zombie issue. I know its irrational, but it's my issue damnit, back off. So when I get there, I'm nervous. This is the first time I've been there since the funeral. I left me car door open, in case I needed to make a speedy exit. I wandered through the graveyard for a bit, looking for the right one by lightning flashes and cell phone light, making sure not to step on anyone. Well, I found it. I crouched down and said happy fathers day, and then I completely broke down. I sat down and cried and talked and talked and talked. Finally, I had to leave. HAD to. So, I bawl the whole way home and I get home and start with the shots. I got SO fucking tore. Everyone knows how big a stickler for spelling and shit I am, but I got drunk enough that night watching my "stories" that I actually spelled Christmas "krissmast" in a text. (By the way, thank you, Patrick, for being such a sweetheart and keeping me company. Love you lots!) I managed to not cry all damn night. I finally got to bed round 5 and rolled around for a little bit because it felt cool. I know, I'm such a dork. Anyway, for all og you wondering how I dealt with Sunday, there you go.