Karma

Aint karma a bitch? Just as soon as I blog-gossip bout my obsessive dad, does fate decide to play a classic on me. I’m so embarrassed right now, I feel the only way to get better is just to write bout it. Geez, I’m not even so sure bout that anymore. God, I’m so embarrassed. So here’s what happened:

For as long as I can remember, I had a bit of a complex. The-I’m-too-effing-comfortable-in-my-house. I mean gimme a break. It was like my brain cells realigned themselves to become laxy and care-free as soon as I was back home from school or wherever I was. In contrast, I was always extra careful outside my house. So, one of the symptoms of the complex involves sleeping in the most awkward positions, and given the current power state, I tended to sleep with less. My dad always had this nasty habit of walking into the room early In the morning to switch off our lights or wake us up to get something from him, so naturally, he met me in those (coughs) erm..positions

I never gave a shit until bout 30 minutes ago, when daddy dearest walked into the room to see me in the most embarrassing sleep position ever. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t naked. God no. This was worse..way worse..trust me.

Needless to say, I will never ever sleep with only a t-shirt on...not when dad is around..In fact NEVER....

Shit im so embarrassed I could die..How the heck am I going to face him when the whole house is awake..?..He better not snitch to mummy o...otherwise..my own don finish today..No more chilling wiv friends

Dear God, I will never blog-gossip about daddy again