Like the Comic Book Guy Says

Last night's weekly phone call home ranked among the top 5 of my worst, most awkward conversations ever. After a little while of me demonstrating how bitter I am via a rant about what's wrong with American business today, we got onto the subject of how bitter and cynical I am. Apparently, my mom has never met anyone worse. Both my parents are worried to an obscene degree about how unhappy I am. They probably also think that I'm chronically depressed or mentally ill. I'm not. Well, I defended my view of life, and as the conversation progressed, leading questions were asked by both sides. Really, a pessimist can't talk to an optimist, there's no point in it. Both sides think that the other is foolish and wrong, and needs to see the world the way it really is. Furthermore, as with blogging and the media, anytime you respond to a critic, you come off sounding like and ass.
Anyway, things escalated quickly and I said a lot of things that I really regret. After over an hour, I finally regained my head and started a little bit of damage control, but by then it was too late. I'm sure that I made my mom cry, and that, and my dad and many others would agree, was wrong of me. So now my dad has urged me to seek counseling (yeah, it went that bad) and load myself to the gills with 5000% the daily recommended dosage of B-vitamins. Things didn't used to be this tense.