If it wasn't for YouTube, Rebecca would've already killed somebody.

For some reason, my mom bought a lock for the backyard gate before she left for North Carolina. I have no idea why, because that backyard is probably the last place on earth that anybody would walk into of their own free will. But she bought one anyway and we've been using it. So early this morning I was woken up by my dog, who was whining because he needed to go out. But I couldn't put him in the backyard because I couldn't find the key to the lock. I had to wake up my brother, who was the last person who locked the gate, and he eventually found it. (He hadn't put it back where it belongs. Big surprise.)

Then I discovered that he also hadn't closed the lock correctly. He put it on upside-down, so now we can't get it open at all. And I can't ride my bike because my bike is in the backyard! What's even more frustrating is that if I had done this, my mom would probably spend all day yelling at me about it. But my brother did it, and Mom is a firm believer that He Can Do No Wrong. I'll probably get blamed for it, because she usually blames me and/or my sister whenever anything goes wrong. My older brother lived at home until he was 28 and I never heard Mom say one thing about it to him, but she tells me and Sara (frequently, and usually loudly) how much she hates us living here. She recently told me, and I quote, that after we move out, "I don't want anything to do with y'all."

Last time Mom called, she said that she wants to celebrate my birthday next weekend, when she comes back from North Carolina. I really don't want a birthday party this year (for reasons unrelated to Mom, but if I do have a birthday party, I really don't want her there), but I can't pass up the opportunity for some cake. The only thing I really want is a book that Sara said she'd order for me from her store.

Sara and I still haven't moved into our apartment because our utilities still haven't been turned on because of Hurricane Ike. We really hope to be out by the end of this week, at the latest. My brother had better get that lock fixed soon. If he thinks I'm a bitch now, he should see me after I haven't been able to stretch my legs properly for days.

P.S. I recently saw the movie Lawn Dogs, with 10-year-old Mischa Barton. Highly recommended. I loved it so much that I think I'm going to watch it again before sending it back to Netflix. I'll try to post more about it when I'm in a better mood.