Insert clever title here.

This draft was started on 11/5/13. It is the second of three that I’m publishing BLIND! As per my own rules (which can be found here) I’m publishing this post as is. I’m not sorry for any ridiculous errors. This is the rules folks.

Well hello there blogging buddies!  I don’t know if you’d actually consider yourself my buddy, but it sounded good so just go with it… ok? I felt the need to just type today. No specific topic in mind. Which shouldn’t surprise you cause if I’m not posting about something significant, I’m posting about nothing at all! I’ve been itching to write though and was frustrated at my lack of inspiration. Thus was born the “Insert clever title here.” post. Shall we?

I’d like to go back to my post a few days ago real quick, I never explained further the situation with my little brother and my dad.  It turned out to be a minor altercation, relative to what it could have been.  S just turned 17 and has his own car. My dad’s rule is that he’s not allowed to have anyone else in the car (read: teenagers) wit him. The story also goes that S is rarely allowed out to hang with his friends. I’m inclined to believe this story cause my dad sucks at parenting, hence the 3 estranged children. More on that here if you’re not familiar with this story and enjoy reading about dysfunctional families written by the girl who’s dad refused to attend her wedding.

Anywho. S lied to my dad about where he was going last Saturday and picked up  a friend and his girlfriend to hang out. I didn’t ask what they had planned, my guess is I probably don’t want to know. They stopped for gas and he got into a little teeny tiny fender bender at the gas station. Just a little scratch on his car, no biggy.

He called my dad for guidance, having never been in an “accident” before. My dad said something like.. “figure it out yourself, call me back when you do.”

Lovely, isn’t he?

Luckily my step mom was nearby and is a slightly more reasonable person… she grabbed the phone and walked S through the process. When S got home, he was yelled at and grounded. He hadn’t even told my dad what really happened yet. So when my dad kept digging and the beans spilled, he hit the fucking roof. Screaming, cursing, threatening shit. S told him he wanted to go stay the night with his mom and of course was refused.

Dad even threatened to call the cops if S tried to leave, saying that thanks to his custody arrangement, S would be brought right back home.

If “home” is what you call it… a rather loose definition if you ask me.

S texted his mom anyway and just left. Went to a close by friend of his mom’s to wait for her. That’s when I got that text.

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