I hate the word martyr.

It gives elevated status to someone who makes all these sacrifices that no one ever asked them to do in the first place.

Martyr always seems to pop up when it comes to family (or jihad but lets not go there!). Especially from our mothers. Oh, I worked two jobs so you could have dental insurance! And you’re like, woman, I never asked you for perfect teeth!

Of course, I kid. But our families always pull the martyr card so they can guilt you into pulling your own weight. Or maybe just to feel better about themselves.

I was talking about this with a friend of mine and she said you don’t have play the martyr if you don’t want to. You can say no to your family. And even if you do play the martyr no one is happy because you resent your family for having to do shit you don’t want to do and then they resent you because you’re not doing these things with a smile on your face.

But maybe we continue to play the martyr because of the guilt. I feel immensely guilty when I say no to family. But that’s just selfish too because you’re not doing these things because you want to, you’re just doing them to absolve your guilt.

Anyway, I feel bad because I started acting snappy with my brother last nite. I wanted to show him and his girlfriend around the city but we were restricted by money because they have a combined budget of like 300 bucks. I spend that much money in like one evening. So then I got pissed off because I was like you shouldn’t go travelling if you don’t have the money. And then blah blah blah.

But in funnier news, brother jinius met my friend dave and my brother loooooved dave. He was like, yo we gotta chill with dave again. I knew they’d get along because they both like Li’l Wayne–the rapper best known for coining the term “bling bling” and for sniffing prescription cough syrup.

And at the end of the night I persuaded brother jinius to get pizza and I was extolling the virtues of the lasagne pizza slice. And brother jinius was like, “You remind me of that drunk girl in 40 year old virgin, when she’s in the car, and she’s like ‘I want some fucking french toast!”

Um, yeah, that’s me.