I HATE the summer. Warm weather, to be exact.

I had to break down and buy a personal fan for the metro. It looks like I have a thyroid problem or something. But it's just so damn hot... and it's not even really the summer yet! It's not really summer because 1, it's about 80 degrees, and 2, my hair is actually behaving itself. My hair never looks like this when it's warm outside... thank you, SunSilk Anti-Poof. Seriously.

You know what I hate? People who don't respond when you ask how they're doing. For instance, a coworker just walked by and said hello, I said "Hi, how're ya doing?" and they just kept walking. Ew.

So, my parents were up this weekend. It was also a weekend where I got invited to do lots of fun things, like go to Adams Morgan with some coworkers and to a Nats game with an old coworker and her apparent new best friend, some girl who has a horse. I have to admit, that's damn cool. My parents drove me absolutely f-ing NUTS though. I don't know what it is, but because they try to help (a little TOO much) and "get all up in my bid-ness", as the boy said, that I would just lash out all of the time. Mostly at my mom. I wasn't allowed into one of the Smithsonians this weekend because I had a swiss army knife (very small) on my keychain, and so I was frustrated. I asked them what they wanted to do and we were literally standing on a street corner, trying to figure it out for like 10 minutes! So frustrating. Of course the boy called at that very moment, so I yelled at him and just about hung up on him. I felt awful. But it's this complicated relationship I have with my parents. Maybe if I had a sibling it wouldn't be as bad- they wouldn't be so focused on what I'm doing, who I'm seeing, etc. One of the first things they did when they got to my new apartment (which they aren't fond of) was to switch around my furniture. No joke. Deep breaths.