I get scared to say anything to my Dad bc he gets so melodramatic.

My aunt and uncle — who live next door — had their house robbed while they were at church today. My aunt called to ask if we’d seen anything, which we didn’t.

My Dad is currently freaking out because “we could be next.” He’s like, cleaning his gun and testing the locks on the door, and saying shit like “I don’t want to be racist, but there’s Guatemalans living in the neighborhood now.” (He never had a problem with Guatemalans — I don’t think — until he talked to the lady who lives on the corner. She’s Mexican, and I guess she really doesn’t like Guatemalans and she made sure to tell my dad all the reasons why they’re basically the scum of the universe. I don’t know. I refused to be involved.)

Bearing in mind that we don’t have anything I could see as being worth stealing, we also have two dogs. One of which is large enough to be a real deterrent to robbers, since I don’t think there’s anyone out there that wants to get bit by an angry dog.

I emailed my brother about the robbery, and he told me that he saw two people with backpacks camped in the nearby ball-field. I made the mistake of mentioning it to my dad, and all of a sudden it’s the END OF THE EVER LOVING WORLD! Everybody panic!

Geez. This is a sucky situation, but he freaks out like that at least two or three times a week about various things. Not to mention the hour long lectures on shit I don’t care about if I just mention something.

Me: “I think we should cut down that little sapling.” Him: an hour of rambly stuff about when he was a boy in Kansas, how to kill ants, blah blah, Nazis doing experiments, oh glob everyone’s going to die, blah blah.

Calm down, man. You’re stressing me out.

It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine

X-posted @ http://harperkingsley.dreamwidth.org/234077.html


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