According to The Lives of the Great Feminists, Virginia Woolf is famous for saying that every woman should have a room of her own. You can tell right off that she didn’t live with my family. I woke up this morning to find the child my parents should NEVER have had standing over my bed taking pictures of me! (I wouldn’t sleep in the nude in this house in a heatwave.) It’s all the Mad Cow’s fault for getting him that new camera for Christmas. (She’s always spoiled him!) It’s digital or something like that and so he’s started taking pictures of US again. Of course, the MC’s on his side, as per usual. She says Justin doesn’t mean any harm; he’s just obsessed. Possessed, more like. Then she went off on one of her tangents, yammering on about how talented Justin is and how proud she is of him. (For pushing a button!) The MC says that Justin wants to experiment more with style, now that he’s made a bit of a name for himself. I said and what would that name be? Shithead? She thought I was joking. Personally I think she’s delusional. (I can only assume that my father the shrink hasn’t noticed this because he’s not home or they’re fighting or he’s in the Bunker pretending to be working but really sneaking fags.) It was soooo excruciatingly BORING. I was tempted to tell her that Justin takes pictures of her and Sigmund sleeping as well, but I decided to use the information to blackmail him instead. I need the money.
Talked to Disha for EONS last night. It’s so civilized, being able to lie on my bed in privacy and have a conversation without everybody eavesdropping on my business or constantly interrupting to tell me the time or that they’re waiting for a call. I’m going to need another phone card soon.