My dad, per usual. I'm out of black ink and I need some more (esp. since I have some finals at the end of the week). He seems to be blaming me for the missing box (which I never touched), and when I say I have no idea where it was because I didn't touch it, he comes up with a smart remark (i.e. "Yeah. 'Cause the box just grew legs and just walked away.") HELLO! I have three siblings, and one who loves to mess with the ink cartridges. I'm not the only one, so don't blame it on me! And he went off about how it's not his responsibility to keep track of it, etc., so I asked him if he would buy me a new cartridge, or if I would just fail my finals because I can't print them off (he got mad at me for being a smarta**, but still). So, yeah. Normal problems with my dad that I am just so sick and tired of.

I cannot WAIT until I'm able to move out so I don't have to listen to that every. single. day.
