Why do we come home for Christmas? And why do we get treated like we never left?
I hate coming home and feel like I still have to do all these chores and help around the house. I think my parents forget that this is my vacation too. Granted it’s not really that much that they’ve asked me to do. It’s just lame.
I don’t really want to go and help you move some table from your friends house so we can have 18 people over here for Christmas dinner. I want to sit on my ass and play MW2 so I can beat my roommate when I go home.
And yes, I do consider Victoria home to me. It’s where I live. This isn’t my home. It’s all changed so much since I left. My parents must have had a lot of money kicking around not having to feed my brother and I.
Surprisingly though, my friends haven’t changed. Most of them are the same people that were around in high school. Tomorrow should be interesting. This is when I am having this party that I ever so kindly offered to throw at my house. Oh boy. I am so excited…. It’s really too bad the internet can’t portray sarcasm that well.
Umm other than that. Nothing much to report or talk about. My life is pretty dull. I got a D in my linear algebra course, so that means I never have to write another math test ever again. Which is very very nice. Yay me.
Anywho, later days. I’m going to try and get some sleep. Big day tomorrow. Girlfriend gets in! Very excited to see her. Even if it has only been 3 days. But whatever, we’re kind of losers.