Boyfriend foolishly purchased a PS3 last week. We already have an x-box, and I use that exclusively for netflix. The closest I come to gaming is playing Sorority Life on facebook, and I really don't even do that well, so I have absolutely no interest in the new system. I mean, come on, you have to insert a DISC to use netflix on the PS3. It's more hassle, and I don't want to bother with keeping up with a disc that didn't even come with a case.
Not only does Boyfriend want me to pay him back for half of the stupid thing, but he set it up in our bedroom and we discovered that the TV we have in the bedroom isn't compatible. So he made me help him carry that behemoth into the living room and then bring in the huge flat screen LCD thing in here. He said he would set up the x-box in the living room later.
I assumed he did it yesterday. I'm off on Wednesdays, and so I like to do my work out. There's not enough room in the bedroom for me to do my workout DVD, so I do it in the living room. However, when I went in the living room today to do it, the X-BOX wouldn't turn on. I tried to set it up, but there were a million different cords and wires behind the TV stand and I wasn't sure what did what and what needed to go where. After I successfully electrocuted myself and scraped my leg on the fucking stand, I decided just to get the DVD player from the closet and set it up. I've done it before, after all, and it was simple.
Except I scratched my arm on a wire rack in the closet trying to get the DVD player out, and then on my way out of the bedroom, I was pulling the door closed as I walked, tripped over the DVD player cord and wound up slamming the door. Which wouldn't have been a problem if our anal roommate hadn't been home. This same roommate who keeps turning the thermostat down to 65 degrees even though this is summer in fucking Austin, Texas so it's making the electric bill high and freezing me to death. Seriously, my feet and hands turn purple and I can't feel them. But he doesn't care because HE likes it that fucking cold.
He got pissed that I "slammed the door", and after twenty minutes of trying to make the DVD player work (which it wouldn't no matter how many combinations of red, yellow, white I tried, and after shocking the shit out of myself a SECOND time, I went back into the bedroom. He heard me open my door and came out saying "Hey" and I promptly swung the door shut (it didn't even close all of the way) ran into my bathroom, and slammed THAT door shut. So he told Boyfriend I was slamming doors left and right. Asshole. I'll show HIM what it's like when I slam doors willy-nilly just for the fucking hell of it.
I slammed the bathroom door accidentally, of course. I was just trying to get to the sink before I got blood on the carpet because I realized as I was trying to set up the DVD player that the scratch on my arm was deep and bleeding. I can't stand it when I bleed. It freaks me out and the smell makes me sick, it's like wet copper. I don't like the smell of wet pennies either.
So I text boyfriend at work and tell him I'm NOT going to bitch at him when he comes home, but basically it's his fault that I electrocuted myself twice, tripped, slammed the doors, scraped my leg, and gashed a gaping wound into my forearm.
He told me I need to calm down.
Calm down? I'm bleeding like a fucking pig with its throat cut, my fingers stings from electrocution, I'm crying because my cut and my scrape hurt like fucking hell, and our roommate yelled at me through the door for tripping and accidentally slamming a door. I'm also in my bedroom, not saying anything to anyone or making any noise. Except the sound of typing. Exactly how do you get calmer than completely silent?
I told him he could calm down for both of us.
He said, "Am I really trying to tell you to control your temper while I'm at work? This is rediculous."
And since that pissed me off I said, "It's ridiculous, not rediculous. And I'm in my room! What more control can I possibly exercise?"
The way it feels to me now is that Boyfriend betrayed me by not setting up the X-BOX in the living room like he promised. It's his fault that all of this stuff happened in the first place because if he had just kept his promise, I wouldn't have had to go behind the TV to mess with wires or drag out the DVD player or anything like that.
I'd be happily working out.
And what it all comes down to is that no only is Roommate mad at me, but I'm also not working out so I'm going to get fat like my sister who eats her feelings, and since I'm cut I'm going to get Ebola gangrene and my arm's going to fall off, which I won't mind because it'll be a fat arm by that point, and I'm never going to be happy again because I can't get my endorphins without my exercise, so I'm going to be fat and miserable with no arm and Boyfriend is to blame because he bought that damned PS3 that I don't even use!