Ever feel like your parents play favorites?

Arright, fuck this.  I need input, I need advice, I need guidance and counsel.

How the fuck do I wrench the rest of the family away from their prized child, from their altar of endless worship, their eternal obsession with television?

I’ve been asking my mom for at least the last two days, possibly most of this week, to drop me by the ATM along with the cash that she’s holding for me, since the time has come to make one of the purchases I’d been saving for.  She’s consistently said, “Sure!  We’ll go very soon.”  Finally today — this morning, mind you, around 11 AM — I asked her, “Will you please take me by the bank today?” She assured me that yes, she would, today.

Of course, I reminded her again around 4:45 this afternoon, and she assured me again, that, yes, we’d go in a little bit.  Well, then i got busy doing things, spent most of the evening up at my computer, when about ten minutes to nine, I suddenly remembered that nothing had happened yet.  Walked down into the house, where I could hear all of them giggling and chatting… then I heard the TV.  I softly called in simply, “Mom?  Bank?”  She calls back, “Yeah, yeah!  We can do it still… but it’ll have to be after ‘Psych!’  Just hold on a little bit…..”

More than a little bit irritated, I climbed back to my room, and looked at the clock.  9:57 — Awesome!  That means the show is just wrapping up.  I hadn’t initially planned on it, since I really wanted to just get to the bank and back, but feeling rather spiteful, and having a few minutes to spare, I pulled out and applied all of my makeup.  Then, about ten minutes past ten, I walked back down… and heard the same tittering and chatter over the television.  Did I miss something?

“Uh… did the show start at 10?”  I asked.

“Well, yeah… it always has; that’s when it airs.” came back from my mom.

Okay, time out.  First, I don’t religiously track the evening lineup — that’s them.  I mean, I can accept people sometimes spacing on the fact that not everyone else shares the same depth of knowledge about a hobby they have, but to expect me to have memorized their TV habits and viewing schedule just pisses me off.  Second, how is it that helping out your own son or daughter with something relatively minor, that takes a grand total of perhaps twenty minutes from standing up and grabbing keys and walking out the door to the car, to walking back in the house and sitting back on the couch — how is that so much less important than the hour of television that happens to be starting just then?

I mean, really — in the big picture, which should be more significant, a one-hour comedy that will show up in endless reruns in a month, can be downloaded from the internet the next day, and — if it’s really that fucking critical, bought on DVD in a matter of weeks, or hell, even rented from the damn library if you’re too cheap to pay for the season… or spending a few minutes doing something kind and helpful for your child?

Am I the only one on the planet who sees how truly and utterly fucked up this is?  And if it’s not just me, then how can I help them see what complete douchebags they’re being?

Oh, and to top it all off, my mom walks out here, calls up… I answer, but she waits until I actually open my door, then says, “Scott? It’s…uh… time…..”

Fuck you.  I can wait an hour for your other child… you can take five minutes while I finish my blog post.  Bitch.


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