I'm Back Just To Turn Around & Do It All Again

You never realize how much siblings you really have until they are all crammed together inside of a cabin that can comfortably fit three people and a bathroom that at any moment could destroy the septic system. It felt like a can of sardines, really, the whole time I was visiting my parents.

Oh what? Visiting my parents? Yeah, that's totally where I have been for the last week. I flew down to see my dad in the hospital because it was all "Oh, he's not doing good" and "Holy shit, is his heart going to explode?" so I hopped on a plane after telling The Pilot "This shit better be all packed by the time I get back!" and met up with my siblings and parents and one baby.

It was a whirlwind trip that ended too soon and then I had to come back only to turn around and move to BC in two and a half days. It feels insane for having to come back to Alberta just to leave province again, but that's how I roll apparently.

But regardless, after a few scary days my dad is doing a lot better and we all felt comfortable going to our separate homes on Sunday.

Later this week I'll share the stupid adventures that came out of having all five of my siblings in the same roof and how I got to sit next to a chain saw artist on the plane.

But for now? Now I will sleep under my desk and wait for my last two days of work to be over.

If I were Him, I'd Be Concerned About Poop Too

Over the weekend my dad was hospitalized because he's had some type of cold or flu for three weeks and when my mom and Womb Mate finally convinced him to go to the doctor to figure out what it was, they told him it was just a bad case of a virus that was going around and "Here, take some happy time pills and this should all just go away." and he took the pills.

Except they weren't happy time pills, they were more like "We are going to make things that much worse that we will actually attempt to kill you in your sleep, and you know what? That's because WE FUCKING HATE YOU!" and then they kicked his dog in the face while they were at it. He couldn't breathe in his sleep and every time he would fall asleep it was a mini suffocation.

So my mom took him into the emergency room again and the doctors were basically "Oh shit, OK, we were wrong. That cold? Yeah, totally a bunch of fluid around your lungs and your heart is doing something stupid that we may or may not want to shock it straight or, you know, cut you open and give you a ROBOT HEART! We don't know, but I'm sure it will be pretty fucking cool." and kept him in the emergency room. And then they stuck him full of needles and made the comment that they want to move him to a bigger hospital but the bigger hospital is so full of crackheads there isn't room for him. So they are sort of stuck of what to do.

Naturally, this caused a lot of family to mobilize that maybe shouldn't have mobilized and when it was brought to my dads attention of if he wanted to have a bunch of guests descend upon their cabin his answer was, "I don't want to have too much stress on the septic tank." because, naturally, when you are faced with probably getting a robot heart you don't want people to show up and cause your poop bucket to over flow.

Which, honestly, is a typical Tristachio Dad thing to say.

Womb Mate and I are torn. She lives five hours away and she wants to go but she's also got this baby that is sort of attached to her tit and there is a chance he could catch the bad cold that started all of this for my dad and that'd be a shitty thing to happen. I also happen to live a province away, have work, and am in the middle of a move. I'd love to drop all my shit and take off but then the poor Pilot would be stuck handling all of it on his own. Even though he sympathizes and has told me to take off if I need too.

This is one of the reasons why I am moving to BC in the first place, to be closer to family so it's not such a hard thing to deal with being so far away.

But then again, it's always nice to be closer in attempts to overflow that septic tank. You know, make a nice poop lake on his lawn.

Full of poop.

Some One Should Give Me A Tiny Naked Man For This.

Do you know what sucks balls? I know, I know, your first thought was most likely "Old people, because they are old and gross and their balls hang down to their knees and look like someones been sucking on a Jawbreaker too long and drained all the fun, vibrant colours from it." and normally, I'd totally fucking agree with you.

However, today, I've got to say apartment hunting is far worse than nasty old man balls that look like wrinkled bath fingers. It sucks even more when your a province away from where you want to live and can't actually visit any of the places you are interested in. All you have is a wing you ripped off a bird and a prayer you are forcing for a priest because you threatened to beat him with the bloody wing you ripped off of a bird in front of him.

Searching for an apartment this way, dear readers, means I've got to trust the Internet and what it tells me and you know how I know I can't trust the Internet? Because I'm on it.

So it isn't really that far fetched to know that after spending all weekend searching for places on line and making spread sheets of questions we need to ask and calling people about their available spaces for March, I had a mental break down and refused to do anything more "Let's not live on the street" related and instead watched a Full House marathon.

Naturally this distressed The Pilot who was attempting to keep a brave face about our search and he kept trying to entice me with places that looked cool and could compete for my attention more than Stephanie getting stood up by some type of school Jock because she is the least likable Tanner girl.

"Look, this place has two bedrooms and a neat kitchen!" He would say as he tried to shove the computer in my face. Which didn't work because I was really into the Full House marathon and it seemed that every place he found would turn out not to accept animals or not have a good enough place to park his corvette.

Finally, I had another mental break down inside of my first mental break down and it was something the Tanner family couldn't save me from.

"Where going to be HOMELESS!" I declared throwing my arms up in the air and kicking over the TV tray next to me, " All because of your stupid car and that stupid devil dog. We're going to have to live under a bridge and we wont even be able to afford cardboard to make cardboard furniture out of."

And before The Pilot could say anything to stop me, I took a deep breath and continued, " And when we have children they are going to be raised by homeless people because we can't afford to send them to public school and you know what you learn in hobo school? ALCOHOLISM! And they wont even be able to afford that!"

The Pilot opened his mouth to say something I started all over again, "Maybe we can find a horse and cut it open and live on the inside of it like that stupid dude from Star Wars. And maybe we can upgrade to Pinto in the future. And a few little ponies as we expand our family."

"But Baby ---" he tried again but was cut off because the phone rang and I had to answer it and who'da thunk it? It just happened to be a landlord calling us back about their place to rent that was two bedrooms and dog friendly for a cheap price a block away from my school and who was more than happy enough to rent a place out to us suite unseen and people unseen and all we had to do was fill out a fucking form!

Once I arranged for her to fax the application to work for today, I hung up with a happy assurance we're going to get a "cute place" and I jumped on The Pilot declaring, "We're going to have a place to live! Can you believe it? It's a good thing I never gave up hope even though you sat there telling me we were going to be some type of fucking homeless beggars on the street forced to live in horses. You sick fuck."

And all he could do was push me off the couch and attempt to smother me with a pillow because of all of his negative energy.

It was really bringing me down, man.