I'm in a really shitty mood right now. I spent all last night playing World of Warcraft and didn't get to bed until 5am (it's Christmas break, cut me some slack, eh?). I awoke this morning at 8am to the sounds of my Dad having jovially loud phone calls (several actually) to various people. Upon actually getting out of bed and telling him to shut the fuck up ("Dad, you need to work on not having loud conversations in the next room while other people are sleeping; I was quiet all last night while you were sleeping"), he told me to go to hell ("Sorry sweetie, but I've got too much going on").

Now all the problems with him seem to be crashing down around me. We bought a 3 piece leather furniture set yesterday. My little brother and I have been sitting on the same shitty couch for the past 5 years - not because we have some sort of weird sentimental attachment, but because it was that or the floor that was wet and had mushrooms growing out of it. Now we have a 3 piece leather furniture set. Why? Well. I suppose our family room could use some furniture, but I think it has more to do with this new girl he's seeing, Yvette (eh-vet). She lives in Texas, she's an obstetrician, and her parents royally fucked her up - how cute. He told me she rescues cats as a hobby and has, oh, about 50 running around her house. They've known each other for maybe a month (at least that I've known about), and he's pushing her to move in with us. As with most kids (22 years old or not) who have been through a divorce, she's just another woman in a long line who have come to ruin my holidays. There was Maria: the obnoxious Peurto Rican who bathed in perfume and couldn't speak below a shout, Mimms: the chiropractor from... well it didn't last long enough for me to find out, Sharon: the quiet nurse in the next town over, and now there's Yvette and the cats. She'll be here Christmas day.

My father's been acting increasingly strange. So much so that my brother and I have actually talked about it. "Maybe it's a midlife crisis," we say in hushed voices as he calls Yvette for the 5th time that day. "No, couldn't be. He's way past that. 55 even." But there is something. He's buying things, he's overly manic sometimes, he asks weird questions (Does life seem to be moving faster for you?), and now there's the 3 piece leather set.

He's a good father, I'm just running on 4 hours of sleep and have a place to vent. Maybe I'm just a whiny rich kid, I dunno. You mess with a gal's sleep, you mess with her entire day.

And now he came down and rubbed my back. Damn, now I can't be mad at him all day. Hrmph.