Mom: Jeff, you need to pick me up on Wednesday from work, take me home, and do my taxes.
Me: You could say please. Maybe ask if I'm busy?
My mother: Oh. I'm sorry, I hadn't realized I didn't. Please? Plus, could you come and look at TV's today with me?
Me: No. (insert explanation that I work 12 hour shifts on the weekends and have to be back at work in 9 hours and I'd like to sleep before then. She should know this, considering how many times she's abruptly woken me up to ask me some stupid question at like 8 a.m. or how many times I've passed out over there at noon or any of the other many indicators that I exist in the night away from the evil daystar...)
My mother: Oh. Then on Wednesday you can.
*bangs head on wall* Yes mother. I'm your god-damned chauffeur. I really don't mind. In fact, honestly, as long as you're not being a total bitch (which has happened) it's kinda enjoyable. But simple courtesy would be appreciated. K? Thx.
Oh, and while I'm here. http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v81/le_necesito/xmen179.jpg → This is for phloxin to annoy him. ;)