Oh lord, it was BAD upon BAD.

I found out Thursday night that Jeremy had won free concert tickets to some rockfest on Saturday, and wanted Dave to go. Likewise, Nikki wanted me to come over and keep her company. Oh yeah, and they wanted us to sleep over at their house.

I had a baaaad feeling about this. I actively didn't want to go, actually. But Dave loves music and never gets to go to concerts, so I sighed, bit the bullet, and said yes.

Good god, that apartment is so bad since we last went there. To call it a shithole would be an understatement. Still has the busted and barely patched walls, the windows look like they're about to rot out at any second, the bathroom was heinous (I held it for HOURS until I absolutely had to go, and seriously considered peeing outside), the tiles are cracked, and the door doesn't shut all the way. And the place is incredibly bug and cockroach infested. If you leave your drink unattended for a bit, you do NOT want to drink it.

Then there's the cat. Which is tiny and scrawny and looks like it never eats. This may be because the cockroaches eat its food, then the cat eats the cockroaches. This apparently wreaks havoc on its little digestive system, which is not helped any when Jeremy doesn't bother to clean out the cat box for a week. The place reeked, and so did we once we left. (His idea of cleaning it out is to throw the poop out the window, btw.)

Also, their ex-roommate left under er, not auspicious circumstances, and made sure to break stuff and empty the entire contents of the kitchen onto the floor before she left. I should mention here that the trashing happened a week ago, and they had yet to pick all or most of it up. Plus their clothes are strewn ALL over the floor.

Oh yeah, and their next door neighbor beat the crap out of Jeremy's brother a few days ago.

We wanted ouuuuuut. Plus Dave's cat allergies were acting up. But they got all offended when we said we wanted to leave, and our ride disappeared. We stayed awake all night feeling squicked out and listening to the racket outside. Dave apologized to me about a thousand times for dragging me into this and said he didn't know it would be that bad.

The boys went to the concert the next day. Supposedly Nikki and I were to get a ride from Teri to the mall so we wouldn't be trapped in Ye Olde Shithole all day, but that didn't happen, nor did any other rides materialize. I got to watch Nikki complain about how Jeremy should be doing the cleaning (he says the same about her) and run around trying to bum cigarrettes off people, plus heard a few other squicky stories from her neighbors. One of whom is five months pregnant and has a six-month-old baby. Of course her husband doesn't have a job. My gawd. Dave came home early because the rockfest sucked and called his dad to come get us. We spent the rest of Saturday and Sunday pretty much showering, eating, and sleeping recovering from all of that. Ugh.

Dave was supposed to stay at home this week and do some stuff, but given how icky the weekend had gone, elected to come home with me instead and go home at the end of this week or so. The whole way home I felt icked out, like I knew something bad was going to go down with Mom.

Ah, the irony. Every time I tell her I went to Modesto, she claims I didn't tell her that. This time I just couldn't bear to talk to her again, so I lied and said I stayed home. She then bitched me out for not calling her to tell her I was staying home! The hell?! I can't win. It then got into how she'll never stop being mad at me, she'll just get worse and worse, until I come home, and ended with her telling me she didn't want to talk to me any more until I came to my senses. I'd still have to call every few days to talk to Dad though.

On the one hand, I cried, and Dave wants to pound the shit out of my mother, and I felt too crappy to go to work (then ended up throwing up because I had a coughing fit and started gagging), and moped around all day. He dragged me out to go look at Palms and talked me into buying one to cheer myself up (even though right now I don't really need one and hell, I already have a small computer at home), but they were out of stock of the kind I wanted. Most of the day I was pretty bad, and we actually talked about breaking up purely because me having a boyfriend was screwing up my life. (Obviously we didn't, or this would be a whole other entry.)

But on the other hand, it was a relief.

And it was not a relief to find out that Mom had sent me an e-mail at work on Monday asking for a truce.

I don't even care about putting in the energy to fix the relationship any more. I'm tired. I've had enough of trying with her.

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