The Brown Time Paradox

Hey, everybody!  I hope you are having a good summer.  I haven’t written in a while because I’ve been lazy, but I’ve got a couple of good posts coming up… and a few of them are from this awful vacation my family and I took to Cape Cod, MA.

Before I say anything else, don’t assume that I’m just some ungrateful little b!tch who is so spoiled that she doesn’t even enjoy going on family vacations.  Or better yet, don’t assume that I’m spoiled because my parents “care” about me enough to include me on a FAMILY vacation.  I’m sure I would have enjoyed going to Cape Cod more if I would have gone with my boyfriend.  At least he likes doing exciting things that are not inherently touristy, but I guess these problems will be addressed in an upcoming post.

I am SO tired of my parents CONSTANTLY nagging me to be “on time.”  They wake me up, whether it is just early or whether it is abysmally early, because they are convinced that I need to hurry and rush every morning.  One morning, the only thing on our agenda was going to the beach.  My parents were so annoyed that I was the last one to wake up, as usual, and they wanted to hurry me up so that we wouldn’t be late.  What the f*ck did we have to be late for?  We were going to a beach that didn’t close until midnight.  It was still before noon.  Hurry, hurry, hurry.

Oh no, she’s the only one who hasn’t gotten dressed yet.  We’re all ready and we’re all WAITING, they say.  Who the f*ck CARES?  I’m still eating breakfast and we’re going to the beach.  Okay, FINE.  So I f*cking hurry because I’m just so annoyed that they’re telling me to hurry up for literally no reason.  I brush my teeth and get dressed within 10 minutes, get all my stuff, and then make my way out the door and towards the car.

Here’s the part that REALLY pisses me off:  I end up waiting in the car, alone or with my equally annoyed brother, for at least 10 minutes.  Every single day of this vacation, I have gotten in the car first and I have had to wait for my parents so that we can actually drive off to the beach.

They b!tch and moan for me to get ready because they claim that I’m the one holding them back, and then it turns out that I rushed for no f*cking reason because they weren’t even ready.  I understand that they have more stuff to do than me, like packing food for us, but why do they tell me they’re waiting on me if that isn’t even true?  Either tell me that we have a planned departure time and STICK to it, or just re-dafuq-lax and forget it.  There is NO reason to rush, when we have nothing on a hard schedule, and there is no reason to stress me out when they aren’t even ready to leave.  Hypocritical.  Brown people are just terrible with time, I guess.