Lying.

So my dad wanted a bank statement so he could know my interest for the last year. I told him for the second time that I threw all of them out when I cleaned my room. I don’t look at them anyway. He said he’d call my bank and get the information from them. I said,

“They won’t give you that information.”

He said, “I’ll lie and say I’m you.”

*points to the title of his diary*

If there’s anything I do not tolerate, it’s lying. He fed me the line, “It’s okay to lie if nobody gets hurt.” You’ve got to be kidding me. Then then went off about how if you’re on a hijacked plane and you’re asked where you’re from, it’s okay to lie and say you’re from Sweden. (As opposed to the US. Have I mentioned my dad mumbles about muslim terrorists a lot?) C`mon, that has nothing to do with the situation at hand.

Nevermind the legalities, it’s just wrong. You don’t lie and say you’re somebody else. That’s a huge misrepresentation. That goes against everything I stand for. Way to be a role model, asshole.

He finally bothered asking me to hit up the ATM, so I’ll get around to that tomorrow or the day after.

If you’re wondering, my bank does have online accounts. But I’m locked out of mine, as they put in a new layer of security. It’s a picture or two. And I can NOT remember the response to mine. So I say, “You know, this is bullshit.” I really need to find a new bank.

Maybe I see his own ineptitude as a reflection of my own potential. It’s a thought.