For Every Notch In Your Bedpost
Manipulator
Being grounded: it sucks.
Being grounded for getting caught having a party while your parents are away: sucks harder.
Being grounded for getting caught having a part while your parents are away on some "second honeymoon" thing because your neighbor decided to call the police because "those damn kids are getting rowdy" when this weekend is undoubtedly the best and [most likely] longest running summer concert tour EVER is coming to your state: that just about takes the cake.
I've been saving up for the past few months to make sure I would have plenty of money for water, merch, gas and hotel fees (the venue is about an hour and a half away, so I decided spending the whole weekend in the city would be more sensible then waking up extremely early the day of, and getting back late) and now, I might not be going.
Joda mi vida.
I just recounted the entire story over the phone to my older sister Julia, who was on vacation with her husband in Italy. (I wonder how long they had to save up for THAT?)
"Just explain to Mom and Dad how important this is for you, and how long you've been saving up," she suggested.
"How about I just move out of the frickin' house already. I'm 18."
"Don't be stupid. You're starting college in a couple months. You'll be paying rent for an apartment that you only live in on the weekends, since you'll be on campus during the week," Julia told me, "I know you're all giddy to be legal and all, but you have to take your new freedoms a step at a time. Going to get your license should come before moving out."
"Getting my license comes after Warped, when I can save up the however-many-dollars that costs. If I even go."
"Like I said, just have a chat with Mom and Dad. Go to Dad first, and he'll talk Mom into it when she's in a decent mood. Trust me, that's how I got half the things I wanted when I was your age."
"Ok, ok. Thanks, Jules. Have fun on the rest of your trip."
"Thanks, Ki. Love ya."
"Love you too. Bye," I said, and I hung up the phone.
I glanced over at the clock. 2:59. Meaning it was nighttime over there. I should have said "goodnight," since she would be going to bed soon. She and my brother-in-law were in a hotel together in a foreign country. They wouldn't be going to bed anytime soon. And it disgusts me to think of that.
Dad usually gets home around quarter-past, so I had about fifteen minutes to formulate how I would ask him to let me go to Warped.
I went over the list of reasons in my mind, while I listened to the Warped Tour compilation from last year. When I heard a car door close, I got up and looked out of my window down to the driveway below. My father's black SUV was parked there. I got out of my room, and walked down stairs. When I got down there, he was seated on the couch, taking off his shoes.
"Hey Kileigh. How was your day?" he asked.
"It was ok. A bit boring, but that's my own fault, I suppose," I started, "Dad, can I ask you something?"
He looked up at me, "Sure hun."
I fiddled with the hem on the sleeves of my hoodie while I spoke. "I know that I messed up by having a party while you and mom weren't here, and I know that I deserve to be punished," I followed the standard method of: tell them what they want to hear, then tell them what you want, "But I've been saving up to go to Warped on Saturday for a while now. I've made all of the plans and arrangements with my friends. We've booked the room, we've got our tickets. If I don't go, I would let them all down and I think that since I took the responsibility to save up and plan for this on my own, then I should be able to go despite my lapse of judgment last weekend." I practically said it all in one breath.
He sat there for a moment, thinking about what I had said. "You make a good point," he said, "A few of them, actually. I should get you a job at my company, since you're so good with orating." He laughed.
I'm in love with a critic and a skeptic,
I gave him a hopeful look, "Does that mean I can still go?"
"It's fine by me, but it's your mother you have to talk to."
"Could you talk to her for me?"
"Sure. Just stay out of her way for a bit, and I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks, Daddy!" I threw in the "daddy" for good measure.
"No problem, sweetheart."
I went back upstairs, now feeling good about the job I had just done.
"youre so good with orating."
More like I'm so good with manipulating.
And damn proud of it, too.
Being grounded for getting caught having a party while your parents are away: sucks harder.
Being grounded for getting caught having a part while your parents are away on some "second honeymoon" thing because your neighbor decided to call the police because "those damn kids are getting rowdy" when this weekend is undoubtedly the best and [most likely] longest running summer concert tour EVER is coming to your state: that just about takes the cake.
I've been saving up for the past few months to make sure I would have plenty of money for water, merch, gas and hotel fees (the venue is about an hour and a half away, so I decided spending the whole weekend in the city would be more sensible then waking up extremely early the day of, and getting back late) and now, I might not be going.
Joda mi vida.
I just recounted the entire story over the phone to my older sister Julia, who was on vacation with her husband in Italy. (I wonder how long they had to save up for THAT?)
"Just explain to Mom and Dad how important this is for you, and how long you've been saving up," she suggested.
"How about I just move out of the frickin' house already. I'm 18."
"Don't be stupid. You're starting college in a couple months. You'll be paying rent for an apartment that you only live in on the weekends, since you'll be on campus during the week," Julia told me, "I know you're all giddy to be legal and all, but you have to take your new freedoms a step at a time. Going to get your license should come before moving out."
"Getting my license comes after Warped, when I can save up the however-many-dollars that costs. If I even go."
"Like I said, just have a chat with Mom and Dad. Go to Dad first, and he'll talk Mom into it when she's in a decent mood. Trust me, that's how I got half the things I wanted when I was your age."
"Ok, ok. Thanks, Jules. Have fun on the rest of your trip."
"Thanks, Ki. Love ya."
"Love you too. Bye," I said, and I hung up the phone.
I glanced over at the clock. 2:59. Meaning it was nighttime over there. I should have said "goodnight," since she would be going to bed soon. She and my brother-in-law were in a hotel together in a foreign country. They wouldn't be going to bed anytime soon. And it disgusts me to think of that.
Dad usually gets home around quarter-past, so I had about fifteen minutes to formulate how I would ask him to let me go to Warped.
I went over the list of reasons in my mind, while I listened to the Warped Tour compilation from last year. When I heard a car door close, I got up and looked out of my window down to the driveway below. My father's black SUV was parked there. I got out of my room, and walked down stairs. When I got down there, he was seated on the couch, taking off his shoes.
"Hey Kileigh. How was your day?" he asked.
"It was ok. A bit boring, but that's my own fault, I suppose," I started, "Dad, can I ask you something?"
He looked up at me, "Sure hun."
I fiddled with the hem on the sleeves of my hoodie while I spoke. "I know that I messed up by having a party while you and mom weren't here, and I know that I deserve to be punished," I followed the standard method of: tell them what they want to hear, then tell them what you want, "But I've been saving up to go to Warped on Saturday for a while now. I've made all of the plans and arrangements with my friends. We've booked the room, we've got our tickets. If I don't go, I would let them all down and I think that since I took the responsibility to save up and plan for this on my own, then I should be able to go despite my lapse of judgment last weekend." I practically said it all in one breath.
He sat there for a moment, thinking about what I had said. "You make a good point," he said, "A few of them, actually. I should get you a job at my company, since you're so good with orating." He laughed.
I'm in love with a critic and a skeptic,
I gave him a hopeful look, "Does that mean I can still go?"
"It's fine by me, but it's your mother you have to talk to."
"Could you talk to her for me?"
"Sure. Just stay out of her way for a bit, and I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks, Daddy!" I threw in the "daddy" for good measure.
"No problem, sweetheart."
I went back upstairs, now feeling good about the job I had just done.
"youre so good with orating."
More like I'm so good with manipulating.
And damn proud of it, too.