This time.

Today, my mom and I got in another fight. How many times do you seriously HAVE to tell me not to do badly in classes anymore? I'm 19. I get it. When you tell me that I can't get a C whenever you talk to me, it's going to make me mad. Maybe instead of jumping on my case for the C, you could give me some credit for pulling up yet another shitty Freshman GPA. But, of course, that doesn't cross your mind. 

You just pay attention to the fact that I got upset, so it's "attitude"(could the quotations be anymore ironic?). 

Anyway, you made eggs for breakfast. My favorite. 

Except, this time, there weren't any for me.