grumble.

once again, let me reiterate on how grumpy i am.

being the pessimistic kid that i am, bankruptcy doesn't include the stash i keep hidden which i *never* use unless i need to go on a really important thing where i *have* to spend money.

but the stash is now the place that i loan out money to my parent's *&^( ward.
and will never see it again.

why the heck to my parents even *have* a ward?!

aren't two girls ENOUGH of a headache for them?

but no.

when someone offers you to be the guardians of their stoned drugger shit son, do the smart thing.

refuse.

but of course, the kuperan family never says no. cause if we did, "people would talk."

so now i have this useless idiot coming to my house demanding for the money that his mother was supposed to give him.

and there is no money?

so what do we do?

simple. use anjali's.

this shit gets $50 in two days.

i save up $50 in 4 months.

but he *gets* my savings.
because his mother was supposed to give it to him.

which she didn't.

and now he needs to money.

so we loan it to him.

then fine. loan it to the idiot.

why use *my* money?

he comes back today, 2 days later, for $50 again.

this time it's the rent's money.

but what the hey.

hold on for a second.

where's *my* money that they owe me?

oh. that thing they can forget.

ok. so here.
little anjali's $50 with a $10 interest.

$10.

what the hell is $10.

throw the money back at them. scream for 5 minutes withuot breathing.
go back to my room.

so fine.
$50 with a $30 interest.

throw money back. scream more.

and you're probably thinking what a fine spoilt brat i am.

but i am.

so what?

it's my blog.

go nitpick at someone else's blog and get angry at their "superficialness"

oh yeah. this means you.
yesyes. you.
actually i'm suprised that you haven't killed yourself yet. i know your suicidal tendencies were a cry for help, but hey, hate to show you dear, but.. no one really cares enough about you to bother.
or why you just give yourself high pressure by reading this blog because we *both* know that you don't like me.
you just can't get over me can you?

anyway, let me get back to my whining.

here is my dad.
who wasn't even in the same continent when i was born.

the same guy who asked me last year how what i wanted for spend my 18th birthday.
eventhough i wasn't even 16.

and then proceeded to argue with me that i was wrong, and that i was really turning 18 in a month.

who is never there for any event in my life, and comes back a week later with chocolates.

or money.

the same guy who once told me as a kid that he he only "loved" me because i was his daughter and that it was his "responsibility as a father to do so."
and that if i was some kid on the street, he wouldn't even like me.

oh well. things turn around to bite you in the butt somestimes, doesn't it?

flash forward 12 years.

17 year old spoilt brat's grown up.
still a brat.
at least a smarter one this time.

i always knew that the $10 would get more if i turned it down.
i'm just waiting for them to up the $30.

maybe a tantrum and another walk around the house screaming would fasten the process.

in my grumpy mood now it wouldn't be quite difficult.