This Has Got To End.

From a conversation that occurred at 5:00 this morning, roughly:

Tim seems to think that he is to Squeaky what I am to him: he sees himself as the person who looks out for her, the one who cares about her when nobody else does--the way I do for him.

Okay, fine. Admirable, even. If you've got something to teach her that you think will help her handle her life better, then by all means go for it, and good luck to you.

But then don't go getting blotto-drunk and traumatizing the poor kid by doing stupid shit like threatening to kill yourself and/or cutting your wrists with a steak knife.

And then don't get pissed at her for being scared and waking me up because she doesn't have any idea how to deal with it. Or defend it as an attempt to make a point. You don't make a point by cutting yourself. (unless the point is "I am absolutely batshit crazy, and also very drunk." If that was the point? You've made it admirably.) You don't make a point by scaring the hell out of someone. So don't get pissed at her for dealing with it in the only way she could...

Then ESPECIALLY don't get pissed at ME for being pissed at YOU instead of Squeaky--"she shouldn't have woke you up!" Well yeah--and she wouldn't have, if you hadn't scared her half to death (and apparently opened up some old psychic wounds, as well.)

And Squeaky? When the situation is calming down? The sarcastic remarks calculated to piss Tim off? They don't help. Really. Shutting up--THAT helps. Rule #1: Do NOT poke the crazy.

Once the merriment and festivities had died down, the following facts were explained to Tim:

1. It is my FUCKING DAY OFF. This drama was not appreciated. This drama WILL NOT RECUR. That is a declarative sentence--not a request.

2. The day we move out of this house--no matter where we move to, no matter whether we move by ourselves or whether there are other roomies involved--is the LAST day that Squeaky will be living with us. Once we're in the new place, I am not putting up with this.

3. Any attempt to ignore #2 will be considered a total dealbreaker. Regardless of our friendship, regardless of our history, if you insist on poisoning my personal space with this ridiculous situation, I will GLADLY live on my own rather than put up with this childish crap. I understand that you are trying to help, but this Sid-and-Nancy-Lite shit is not helping anyone, least of all ME.

4. Your attempts to emulate me, by helping someone obviously in need of it, are appreciated. Your methods, however, are at times misguided (and at other times, COMPLETELY FUCKING INSANE and inappropriate) and you might think about how the potential outcomes.

5. Did I mention about it being my day off? Have we not, for some time now, maintained an understanding about my personal space? Then stop setting off the drama. It's every bit as much your doing as Squeaky's--more, really, since you're the one who knows better.

I don't know how thoroughly my statements sunk in--for one thing, they were percolating through a thick layer of Miller High Life, and were probably garbled on the trip--but at least I've said my piece. If necessary, I will repeat it.

It has also become obvious that I cannot have beer (or any other alcohol) in this house. Not that it's such a great loss for me--summer's almost over anyway, and that's the only time I ever really drink--but it's become apparent to me that for Tim, beer is like rocket-fuel for his inner butthead. This is the third or fourth time I've had to involve myself in their little interpersonal crises, and each time there was alcohol involved. It's like in the I Has A Sweet Potato story: "WE JUST WON'T HAVE ANY ROOT VEGETABLES ANYMORE. THERE. ARE YOU HAPPY?" Except in this case, it's beer. (I only WISH it was root vegetables. I've never heard of anyone becoming a jerk after an overdose of yams.) Like I said--beerlessness is no great hardship for me. I just happen to enjoy a couple of Coronas after a hard day's work; I'll just have to find something else to enjoy after a hard day's work instead. (Breyers' Caramel Pretzel ice cream is looking like a good candidate. In the words of lolcats everywhere, nom nom nom.)

So all in all, this so-called "long weekend" has been a total loss: Friday night I went to bed early because I wasn't feeling well; Saturday I worked from 8:00-4:30; and today was spent either babysitting my roommates and their domestic disputes, or sleeping in the aftermath of same. And then tomorrow, it's off to Mom's--where I will no doubt be treated, along with a delicious meal, to a running commentary about how much weight I need to lose. (But at least there won't be any drama. It's hard to believe it--I'm faced with a lecture about my weight, my hair, or my beliefs, and yet those lectures actually seem PREFERABLE to staying at home--because if I go where the lectures are, I won't have to deal with the silly childish crap going on HERE...Yeah, that's a sad state of affairs if ever I've heard one.)

All things considered, I'll be glad to get back to work on Tuesday.