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This thing has grabbed ahold of me and won't let go. Help? Maybe some mace or something? ( Or maybe a board with a nail in it... )

In other news, my parents made a game out of outdoing each other in calling me short. Thank you, taisa, it's your fault. .___.

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Mom: You've got a bit of an antenna thing going on there...
Me: ...I've got a what?
Mom: Your hair is sticking up oddly.
Me: !!! *tries to flatten antenna, static electricity mocks me*
Mom: 9.9 Shorty.
Me: !!@#%!
Dad: What's the midget yelling about?
Me: !@%(*^..... ;_;

[Edit]: Why do I persist in visiting the Pit of Voles? It always makes me wince. And want to write a lot and very quickly, as if that would somehow cancel out the existence of that foul place. *sighs wistfully* There was a time, long ago, when it wasn't a breeding ground of scum and villainy...