Oh, please.

After having an absolutely fantastic day with Ryan, I walk in the door to mean words and yelling.
What was it about?
Dinner. My dad and sister were mad at me for not being home to make dinner.
So, I give in and ask what they want for dinner.
It was between Ravioli and broclli and chedder pasta. I chose pasta.
Samantha was sad.
While making dinner, I took one piece of pasta every so often to see if it was done or not.
Dad got mad at that.
Why? Beats me.
So, I finish dinner and leave it to sit for a few minutes.
Dad walks into the kitchen, tells me it's not done, proceeds to turn the stove back on, and add various spices to it.
I ask him to please not do that.
He ignores me and continues to mess with it.
He tells me it's not done and continues to cook it himself.
This angers me.
They freak out because they don't won't to cook dinner, as if they can't add ingrediants together and make food.
Then dad comes in and takes over.
if you want to make dinner, make dinner. Don't yell at me to make dinner, thell me what I'm doing is COMPLETELY wrong, and take over.
If you wanted to make dinner in the first place, make it your damn self.

More complaining.

This morning I got a message from a friend of mine.
Pretty much saying that my relationship is crap.
That Ryan is crap.
She can't believe I'm dating him.
Blah blah blah.
I mean, really?
I don't know who she thinks she is, but this is deffinately not her business.
If he was punching and hitting me, breaking my arm and whatnot, sure, she has every right to tell me he sucks, but I think I would get it by then.
He doesn't suck, to say the least.
Actually, he's quite fantastic.
So, yeah, I'm dating him.
Happily and fantasticly.
Wrap you're mind around it; I don't need your two cents.

Next blog will be happy, all right? Promise.