I Don't Really Have The Best Family.

We all complain-- a LOT.

And we're all sort of two-faced.

My dad and step-dad are the worst hypocrits.

But, I mean, they pull through for me when I need them to.

They may bitch and moan about it, but it does get done.

My grandmother just paid the first installment on my semester.

Some things came up, and Grady was ready and willing to pawn some stuff to get it paid, but my mother's mom stepped up and did it for us.

And that's just really sweet, you know?

For the most part, we refer to her as the Grandmother That Doesn't Care, because it feels like she doesn't. Whenever we visit, she seems so interested in catching us up on everyone else's lives that she doesn't bother asking about our's.
But, in the end, she really does love me.

I'm her favorite, and only, granddaughter, and that does mean something to her.

And I guess what I'm trying to say is that life sucks.

My family is riddled with alcoholics, drug addicts, idiots, racists, and homophobic rednecks.

But, for the most part, they all have strong family ties.

Blood, afterall, is thicker than water.