Hatred and birthday dates

I’m really beginning to hate my father. He doesn’t give me proper credit where proper credit is due. Aside from this, he blames me for everything wrong. My grandmother turns off the air conditioner in the morning because she’s cold but he blames me for turning off the A/C because he says that my grandmother wouldn’t know a stick from an A/C switch. We were packing boxes the other day and he blamed me for the box looking unusual. Well, I told him a few things before we packed the box and then he screams in my face because he expects perfection from everything. What a fucker. There’s nothing perfect in this world and he knows it but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Another thing my dad blamed me for (and this has been for a long time) is the car. He tells me that I’m not telling him something but what the fuck, you know? I DID NOT break the fucking car, it’s just fucking old. I mow the lawn, I clean the kitchen, I clean my own bathroom, I do my own laundry, I clean my room, I do whatever he pleases and he always gives me shit about the little things. I don’t smoke, drink, or do drugs and yet he gets pissed off when there’s one little thing he doesn’t like. Just imagine if I was a heroin addicted 20-year old who smokes, doesn’t go to school, and is a lazy motherfucker. Would he get mad? Absolutely. But Jesus Christ man, my life is awesome and he is just a fuck messing with it. His employer keep on asking him if he wants to work someplace else for a couple of months and he keeps on saying that his knee hurts. What a fucking excuse. What a pussy excuse. I know some of his friends that have worse knees and they still go to support their fucking family. He’s just lazy, one lazy fuck who acknowledge the people around him. People who bring him to the train station, who clean the house for him, who pick him up, who cook for him. Yet he complains, complains, and complains. I think he hasn’t realized it yet, but when I’m gone for school, his life will need some tuning up.
Another thing that I’m disappointed about is that my birthday wasn’t acknowledged as much as last year. I don’t want to offend any people but man, only a few acknowledged my birthday. The only people who didn’t forget was Jorge, Kat-Kat, Chrissie, Felice, Leah, Mike H, Mike T, Tony, my parents, and my relatives. Fuck man, I know more people than that and they know my birthday. I cannot accept shit like “I’m too busy” or “I’m working like hell,” because my friend Mike H works fucking 16 hours a day and he didn’t forget. I don’t want a fucking gift or something, just those two little words with my name at the end in my inbox.