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I've heard stories about people who have families that give support when it is needed. To me, they sound like fairy tales. More on this point later.

Last month, I came to the realization that many of the people I had been assosciating with were not my friends. This realization came in the form of my bass guitar being stolen by my roommates. Why? Because they thought I might skip out on the bills I owe them. To make a long story short, I outsmarted them, tricked them into admitting that they stole my bass for compensation for the bills, and now that my bank statement has a comma in it, I will skip out on those bills. I think they deseerve it. Is this so wrong? I hope not, because I sure don't feel guilty about it. My original plan was much more devious, I stole a stereo from the non-guilty roommate, creating conflict among the conspirators, who finally decided to give back my bass in return for the stereo. I can't believe it worked. That stereo is a piece of shit.

All in all, the plan was a success. But, I still haven't settled into the fuck-it attitude necessary to push this episode past me. I feel like I can't trust anyone. Yesterday, searching for a method to cope with these thoughts that were pulling down my mood, I came up with the stupidest idea ever; I called my mom. My mom told me that maybe my friends were right not to trust me, maybe I'm just a bad person, and in order to cope with this situation, I should read the bible.

ummm....

Okay, thanks mom. Nice talking to you. bye. I Don't want to waste all the minutes on my calling card. bye. yeah, yeah, I love you too. bye.

I'm sure there's a great punchline to this story, and if you think of one, make sure to let me know, but at the moment, I'm still not quite so sure whether to laugh, cry, or fly into a violent rage about how completely ineffective my parents can be.