Dahil sa ka-OC-han...

As my blog-editing is going berserk, I'm re-publishing the entry I posted last Wednesday (I think).

My day started out a crappy one. After wearing myself out cleaning the house yesterday, I had a crap of a time trying to sleep last night only to be awaken by my neighbors' fighting at 7 in the morning.I was supposed to accompany my sister to the bank to get money for her tuition, but seeing that I seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, she decided to leave me be in m y state of post-irritation stupor (if there is such a thing).

I wouldn't have gotten out of bed if it wasn't for the annoyingly loud zzzzcckkkt of our newly-installed buzzer. I was pissed that it wasn't the phone ringing--my travel agent still hasn't called me to update me about the case of my lost passport.

I descended the stairs, plopped down on my seat at the table and proceeded to half-heartedly pick on my lunch of rice and fried bangus. Seeing that I didn't have much of an appetite (which was as if the world was ending), my grandpa asked the help to get the tub of mango ice cream--an attempt to lift my spirits. Um, grandpa, it's mango. I don't do mango ice cream. Ugh.

My lolo probably sensed that I didn't buy into the whole "Magnolia Ice Cream makes it all okay" ad. So he offered my sister the ice cream. She distractedly nodded yes as she was reading the paper, and left the tub of ice cream open to melt.

I don't know what happened--if it was my O.C. instincts or just my inner bratinella that kicked in, but I got really pissed. "Ano ba? Kung gusto mo, kumuha ka na. Kung ayaw mo, pwede itago mo na?", I snapped at my sister.

My statement was met by shocked stares from both lolo and sister. They looked at me as if I'd grown a second head. To which, I retorted, "Masakit ang ulo ko. Init kasi e." And then I stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door.

I know, I know. It was wrong. It was rude. But it felt good (okay, does this make me evil or what?).I guess my family is so not accustomed to me being the brat. I was always the nice one, giving into their every whim. I was the one who got snapped at, not the one who did the snapping. That was me, the doormat.

We never talked about it after. Dinner came and we acted like nothing happened--talked about the weather, about food, etc. Maybe they were scared I'd go back into monster mode again.

Hey, sabi nga ni Joss Stone, I've got a right to be wrong...so leave me alone.