fucked up, ain't it?

so, i'm on a lil' vacay for a few days escaping the city that never sleeps for one that seems to sleep often.  

there is, after all no place like home.

i packed up and took off with far too many clothes and a suitcase that has seen better days.

lucky for me, i came home at a good time.  managed to check in to la casa familiar at a safely drama free time.  mom and step pop have been extra cool.  my bro has been laid back.

vacay has been what it is supposed to be, a relaxing jaunt that allows me to be a total slug and not have to do shit other than think about myself.

yesterday, mom wanted to take us out to brunch to this lil' trendy spot that she loves going to for happy hour.  upon arrival, i swear i felt like i was back at home suddenly. the pretentiouslil sawed off first generation american twat who was standing behind the hostess stand tried to catch a 'tude 'cause we were a few minutes late for our reservation. then the bitch proceeded to try and make us wait for like 15-20 minutes when there were several tables available. 

 moms wasn't feeling it and spoke to DA MAN when he came over to the podium about what was going on.  suddenly lil homie found a table to put us in.  shorty @ the stand tried to fling her hair with mucho 'tude like she was doing us a favor to seat us.  what the fuck is up with people working in a service position and being tight that they have to provide a service?  

yo, get your fucking GED, flash that green card and maybe you can get a job at a real restaurant "up norf." bitch was acting like she was working at del posto or some shit.  relax, change your tampon and loosen up your bra. reach for more in life and maybe you won't have to be such a cunt for the rest of your life.

so basically, what could've been a nice lil' family outing got tarnished by this broad being miserable 'cause she can't afford to eat where she works and moms feeling guilty the whole meal from bringing us there.  i was chillin' once i got my latte and my french toast with strawberries. lil'bro wasn't as happy and started drawing dead aliens on the table cloth.

fucked up ain't it?

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mom dukes and i went out late in the day today for an adventure in suburbia to run errands and pick up a better suitcase at the mall.  

we went to an old old old school italian spot to bust a grub before battling with the president's day sale hunters.  my mom raved about this spot and talked about how much she and my other bro loved the relaxed atmosphere and the authentic old school feel.  we were the only peeps in the spot for mad long.  

the food was decent, they gave us free white pizza, and we were having a fairly good time just enjoying each other's company.  just as we were finishing up our meal, i looked at the wall and realized we weren't alone at our table.  

naw.

crawling up the wall was one of the extra's from joe's fucking apartment.

yeah.  there was a pregnant fucking roach climbing the wall next to us.  tell me how i'm not supposed to want to vomit behind that shit? 

fucked up, ain't it?

my mom, a woman with a hyper sensitive nausea trigger beckoned the waiter and merely pointed at the wall where lil' homie was crawling away.  the waiter looked horrified and apologized.  before taking our plates, dude actually had the gall to ask us "are you done?"

WTF did he think? 

mom sat at the table looking like she was about to cough up a lung and i went to the ladies' room to see if i was gonna blow chunks.

when i came back to the table, dude brought us free spumoni.  moms asked for the check, and turns out he comped us for our inconvenience. 

moms then felt bad and decided to leave dude a healthy tip for his trouble.  

if i wasn't already teetering on having an eating disorder, i certainly am now. 

fucked up, ain't it?