Bad Host

So Dad's getting cut tomorrow (the proper word to use here would be "going in for surgery," but I'm in no way proper).

He's been relying on me for moral support.

Dad, you sure about this? You're talking about AnoMALIE comforting you... the girl notorious for crying whenever given the "I'm so disappointed in you" speech... from anyone, really.

He seems to think a BS (in my case, it stands for BullShit) in biology means I'm already working on my residency at some hospital.
With the actual knowledge I have, the most I could probably do for him now is give him a lecture on Calmodulin and CaM kinases.
Since I've never had any sort of procedure done... hell, I haven't even broken a bone (well, the only one I broke was the pinky on my right foot--or was it my left?--, and that shit sucked, but I didn't even go to the hospital for that bad boy... I just sucked it up and had one shitty ass summer)... I really can't give him the proper support of "Don't worry, you won't even feel it! You'll be up and about in three days!"

Anyway, Dad's upcoming surgery has brought many visitors to the house.
I say hello to maybe 20 percent of the visitors.
For the most part, I stay in my sister's room and draw (I should probably be studying for finals, but eh, fuck it) or sneak out of the house to go to the gym. I've only been caught once by one of the visitors as I was sneaking out of the house in my gym clothes yesterday. I made some lame-o excuse about "Oh, I'm running late and this class is long... and I didn't want to bother you guys" then I redirected her to the Milano cookies.
What a gracious host I am, right?
I was given props, according to Mom, for giving our guests "gourmet" cookies.
Gourmet when I give you truffles, yeah? It was either that or give Tyson the cookies... and we all know dogs can't eat chocolate.

I guess this problem with pops has brought the family closer.
My jerk uncle who usually talks shit about my dad to everyone came over on Tuesday, and when I walked in the bedroom to say bye to Daddy before school, I saw my uncle had watery/puffy eyes.

Ok, relax you guys... this isn't Steel Magnolias.

And yesterday, my cousin, the husband of the girl who caught me sneaking out of the house, was caught by surprise when they told him Dad had cancer.

Oh my God, uncle! I thought you were going to have like... your appendix removed!

It was amusing to see him trying to finish the last of his Milano cookie with milk.

This has also brought over almost all of Dad's church congregation to the house.
It's pretty obnoxious... but as long as they manage to control my dad and his freak-outs, I guess I can welcome it... and I put up with the chanting/praying/screaming better than if it were under any other circumstance.
However, I can't wait until this is all over and they quit showing up at the house at all hours of the day... taking up my parking spots or preventing my successful exit from the house because they're blocking my escape routes.

The next three weeks are going to be... maddening... I just hope I don't start writing crazier shit up in here... frustrated out of my mind and all that stuff.
If I do, I won't hold it against you if you ignore me for a second, yeah?

If you like being in a hospital all day, clap your hands!!
::crickets::

I hate being a Debbie Downer.

What a way to celebrate my 200th entry, no?