… because you asked (part 2)

.. apologies for having to skip out earlier.

One thing led to another.. and then another.. and then somehow I found myself at Target buying a lot of crap I didn’t need and forgetting what it was I actually went in there for!!

Grrr!!

At any rate.. okay.. so where was I?

So I left off with the trials and tribulations of Elvis.

Just for S&G’s :: shits and giggles :: I stalked his Facebook page :: don’t anyone update their privacy settings??? :: Apparently, he’s still in Oklahoma AND surprise.. surprise.. he’s in communication with the Crack Whore.

Heh.. omg.. I can’t stop giggling!! I can’t make up this shit, people!

Okay so the biggest question I got :: always get, actually :: is WHY THE HELL DO YOU STAY IN THIS INSANITY??

The quick and dirty answer is: Right????

But the truth is a lot more complex.

Look, no relationship is perfect. And every battle isn’t won. Everyone has their good and bad sides and unfortunately, I put people’s bad sides on blast when I blog. It’s venting.. it’s OMG! I can’t be the ONLY person who thinks this is bizzarro!!! .. it’s just me being me doing the things I do. I recognize that I don’t always blog when Chief does something amazing or says something that makes me fall out laugh and pee my pants but those things do happen.

I realized a long time ago that I was naive with this whole “man with kids” thing and that I didn’t know what the hell I was getting into. Did my opinion of Chief change? Yes. Did I fall out of love with him? No. It’s just one of those things that I either accepted or didn’t and moved on.

Him as a man to my woman is worth a lot more then anything his kids, ex or whatever could make me give up. Happy is easy. Difficulty is what proves love.

OR I’ve had way too many Gummi Bears and I’m on a sugar rush!!

Plus, you know, I’m a fighter. I’ll fight with any one about anything for sport!! LoL!

Oddly enough, I get asked about my menagerie of pets.

Right now.. on the bed with me.. is Butch, the dog that came with the house because my landlord wasn’t able to take him with her when she moved, Ernie: The Terrorist Puppy that is no longer a terrorist OR a puppy. He’s just a root beer barrel shape mess of neurosis who can’t sleep unless he’s under a blanket and Moan-a, the indoor cat who got stuck in our old attic with a Christmas ball named Wilson for company and has since become an outdoor cat at the new house. Unless, like tonight, it’s in the single digits with freezing rain. Then she’s on my bed.

Chief is wanting to get me a blue bird to fill the space on my bed after I Tretis myself in for the night around these three.

We’ve had a few too many Rainbow Bridge send-offs:

Luca Bella.. the love of my life. I can’t write about her or I’ll bust out crying and be an emotional wreck for a month. It was her time and I had to let her go. It was the right thing to do.

Then there was Al.. the best damn cat in the world. We still don’t know what happened to her. We just drove home from somewhere and she was curled up at the base of our drive way as if she was sleeping. Some one had suggested that she may have licked antifreeze which made sense because she was a complete outdoor cat and we had just moved to the new house. The weather was turning cold and someone, somewhere may have leaked it or spilled it and there you go. Considering what roams around my neighborhood, I have no angst that it was on purpose. Just, sadly, one of those things.

Lastly there was Retard. Don’t give me shit about her name. You had to know her and you’d get it immediately. She was beyond awesome. Just like a puppy and friendly as all hell. She followed Moan-a through a window that I didn’t realize was left open. We found Moan-a but not Retard. I can’t say for sure that she Rainbow Bridge-d it. More then likely someone found her.. or she climbed in their handbag :) .. and got herself a new home.

I hope so. She was too special to not have a long, spoiled life.

And that’s really all about it. Unless y’all got something else you want to know!

Keep asking because.. obviously.. my life is nothing but an open book!

.. because you asked

… so I’ve gotten some pretty interesting questions since I started posting again.

They MAY have come from WordPress, come to think of it, to KEEP me posting. Dunno! :)

But some have come from :: who knew! :: readers who’ve been reading for a long time.

Imagine that!

Of interest was the reaction of both Weed and the GF (still can’t think of an appropriate tag for her) when I asked her about being with a deadbeat when her own son’s father wasn’t in his life.

I wasn’t looking at Weed so I don’t know what his “face” looked like but I can say :: most surprisingly :: that the GF responded that she’s been telling Weed to spend more time with T3. To which, Weed replied that it’s been tough because he really doesn’t have any money. TO WHICH I replied that phone calls are free.. and so is the park.. and so is Sunday dinners at my house.

The GF had mentioned earlier that her car was being worked on because of a minor fender bender that left the rear off-centered but she did tell Weed that they could take public transportation down to my house. No easy feat considering where they live and where I live but at least appreciated that she was more pro then con with Weed being involved in his kid’s life.

To be fair :: there was too much ” grrr ” last night to be objective :: she seems like she’s an okay person. She lives with her parents, has a degree in elementary and special education and has a real job working with kids as an educator. She comes from a fairly affluent community :: which means absolutely nothing except that she isn’t living in a crack den :: and she met Weed in a program because she had become addicted to pain meds after a serious car accident a few years ago. On the surface, it would appear that if he had to be in a relationship with anyone at least this girl appears to have her priorities in order.

What I don’t know is if she is strong enough to handle Weed’s persuasions. Charm is built into these boy’s DNA :: from their father’s side :: and they’ve only been “in a relationship” :: according to Facebook :: since November 21st.

Yes, I stalk. Report me!

But.. as with everything.. time will tell.

I’ve also been asked what ever became of Elvis, Chief’s jailbird nephew who was was brought out to PA by Chief’s douchebag brother.

Not sure where I left off on THAT story.

The thumbnail is that Elvis has been in and out of jail for half his life and through Facebook, connected with his PA family for the first time. His mother had high-tailed out of the area when he was 6 months old and never had any contact with his father’s side of the family.

His douchebag uncle paid his way out here, put him up and basically treated him like a plantation slave.. never really giving him the opportunity to venture off the property to find work to sustain on his own. Couple that with alcohol and the fact that douchebag’s wife has an Oedipus complex and hates, hates, hates anybody or anything that diverts the douchebag’s attention away from her.. shit was a powder keg waiting to explode.

And it did.. one drunken night when Douchebag said something that Elvis took the wrong way and Captain Morgan set those powder kegs on fire.

Elvis was banished from the property.. his clothes dumped in a McDonald’s parking lot.. and he was left stranded in a state where he knew know one.

Of course, he knew me.. but communication between me and him stopped when he went to live with Douchebag. All extensions of hospitality were met with “sorry, can’t” or “busy” or whatever excuse came my way.

So I wasn’t in a too charitable mood when all of a sudden he’s blowing up my phone with text messages needing help.. money.. a place to stay.. etc.

However, I’m not heartless and sometimes the best way to help someone is to make them help themselves.

I reached out to a homeless shelter that’s affiliated with the Salvation Army. I explained the situation and they gladly offered him a place to stay, food, clothing vouchers, etc. while helping him find a job.

For someone who said that they were committed to turning their life around and all they needed was the opportunity, you’d think that one would take THIS opportunity and fly with it.

He flew alright.. all the way to Oklahoma.

What happened was he started to get too involved with the people he was living with.. all kinds of people who’s circumstances made them opportunists. I had told him to keep his head down and stay out of any issue that didn’t directly concern him. He didn’t listen and was either thrown out or asked to leave :: still don’t know which :: and since he was already working for a landscaping company :: that the shelter helped him get :: he decided he was going to get his own place.

According to his story, he had to sleep on the streets a few nights but finally was able to rent a room from a guy who had once been a resident of the shelter.. made good and now wanted to give back. He would rent rooms to those who were in the transition part of their lives.

His mother put up the first week’s rent because Elvis was between paychecks but sometime after he moved in, I get the phone call asking if I can help him because he didn’t get his check and his rent was due. I told him to talk to his landlord and explain.. even have his landlord talk to his boss. Something adult and reeking of responsibility.

Never knew what happened because the next thing I know is that he’s trying to get money for bus fare to Oklahoma because he had to leave right! away!.

Putting the puzzle pieces I had to work with in place, I think what happened was Elvis wanted to live his way and the landlord had rules regarding who or what goes on in his property. Elvis started posting pictures of tattoos he was doing and I’m sure the caliper of people who would get tattooed by someone like Elvis aren’t the kind of people the landlord wanted hanging around.

Elvis also has a quick temper and I’m thinking that something went down.. the police were called and he decided his best move was to get out of the state.

Don’t really know.. and really, don’t really care. I’ve been bit by the dog too many times to keep trying to pet him.

Elvis kind of fell off the face of the earth so I really can’t give you a current update.

… well, baby’s up from his nap which means my time no longer belongs to me!!!!

 

 

United Bank of….. ME??????

You have one of these? Cuz I sure as hell don’t!!

You know… whenever you think it’s too good to be true, right?

Okay.. so let’s do some catch up first:

Weed :: who really should be renamed “deadbeat” :: was in jail when T3 :: who I sometimes call “Timbo” :: was born.

He was released from jail while the baby was still in NICU :: withdrawing from FUCKING HEROIN, mind you :: and if memory serves, went up to the hospital.. um.. twice??

He proceeded to sofa surf.. wound up back in jail.. then into rehab.. then back to sofa surfing.. got a job that last all of 2 days :: because OH! He’s not “.. fit for manual labor” :: … did some more sofa surfing until the tide ran dry.. went back to rehab.. then to a half way house.. and now resides in a sober house about 40 miles north east of where I live.

Phew.. I get exhausted just trying remember this shit!

Anyway.. since the baby has been home with us, he’s seen him about 6 times in 18 MONTHS. Doesn’t help out financially… doesn’t even call and ask how he’s doing. In fact, when he was over for Thanksgiving dinner :: not my idea and that counts as visit 5 of the 6 :: he never once expressed gratitude that the son he called begging and pleading not to become a ward of the state was right there in the middle of the room being supported and raised by me and Chief.

AND, on Christmans :: visit 6 of 6 :: he didn’t so much as bring the kid a dollar store teddy bear even though he “supposedly” is working. Because if there’s one thing the sober house did that Chief didn’t.. was force the kid to get a job to earn his keep.

With both Weed and Bubba, you never heard from them unless they need something. While this doesn’t bother Chief.. it bugs the shit out of me. And it really doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I’m the only one working.. it has more to do with respect.

Another post for another time.

So the fact that we don’t hear from Weed at all actually makes my life easier.

But y’all know that wasn’t going to last for long.

Last night, Weed calls Chief. The two things I hear Chief say is “… what’s going on” and “.. yknow i’m not working, right?”

And that really is all I need to hear because I know then that somehow, someway, this is going to cost me money. The big question is how much and what it’s for.

See, there’s a reason why they call Chief and ask. Me? I wouldn’t be able to get HELL NO out fast enough.

So Chief talks to him for a few minutes and tells him he’ll call him back.

He walks past me on the couch.. goes into the kitchen.. starts making a cup of coffee.. I purposely ask him if he wanted to watch a movie.. he said he didn’t care.. and then silence.. silence.. silence.. silence.. silence…

I know what he’s doing.. he’s trying to figure out the best way to ask me to give Weed money because he feels embarrassed and awkward and feels like he’s put in a bad position.

So I flat out ask “.. so what was that all about?”

He tells me that Weed is working but for some reason, hasn’t gotten paid yet. “.. remember he said something about that at Christmas? Huh? Huh? Do ya? Do ya?”

NOTE: everything after “.. at Christmas?” I added using the beauty of poetic licensing

I tell him I didn’t but whatever.

He tells me that Weed is 100.00 short on his rent and if he doesn’t have it by tomorrow afternoon, he’s going to get kicked out. IN! 9! DEGREE! WEATHER!

And of course, I have all these questions that he can’t answer.

Why doesn’t he have his rent? Can’t he explain the paycheck situation with the landlord? Can’t he have the landlord call you? Can’t you give him a money order? Can’t you deposit it right into the landlord’s account? Etc. Etc. Etc.

Believe you me.. I did NOT want to give this kid money. For rent or not. I’m not a fucking bank and I have issues making it from one paycheck to another as it is. I also know that once you get him out of a bind once.. that phone will never stop ringing. I also know that Chief can be a pussy when having to play “bad cop” and so I figured that giving him 100.00 bucks is going to serve 2 purposes.

One, he’s going to be told to not even ask for a used tissue until the money is paid back and two, Chief is never going to grow a pair big enough to ask me again on his behalf.

Not to bore you with the details, but it was THAT kind of conversation.

So Chief calls him back and tells him that we’ll bring him up the money. He wanted to see where he was living :: if it was what he said it was and not a crack den :: AND he wanted to give the money to the house manager. Being that he lived in a house for recovering junkies and got a last minute call for money did anyone THINK it was going into his hands?? Right.

Weed texts me his address and when I asked what time the house manager was going to be there, he replied that he would have to get back to me because the dude wasn’t home from work yet.

Fine.

About 10pm he sends a text that we could go up “anytime” because he had to work and wouldn’t be there.

So now I’m going to drive 40 miles :: did I mention that we were hit with 7 inches of snow, temps not breaking 12 degrees AND I go into severe anxiety when I have to drive in bad weather? :: hand some money to some stranger without Weed being there and that’s ok?

Don’t think so.

Chief calls Weed and is told that he has to work and wouldn’t be back until around 4. Chief tells him that we’re not driving up there that late because we’re victims of a toddler’s schedule … HIS toddler’s schedule .. and we’re not going to be put out all night because the kid falls asleep in the car way before he’s suppose to. So Weed tells him that given the circumstances, he’ll try to get off work early and be at the house around 3.

Whatever.

So this afternoon, around 230-ish, Weed calls Chief and asks him what time we were leaving. Chief tells him that we were just gearing up and should be there in an hour. Weed THEN tells Chief that he’s at his girlfriend’s house :: haven’t thought of a name for her yet but she’s another recovering addict that has a 6 year old son and lives with her parents :: and could we pick him up there?

Are you fucking kidding me?

No. No. No. No. No. HELLS NO.

I get bent.. even Chief gets bent.. and I told Chief that he’s acting like he’s doing US a favor and that WE should be grateful enough to go traveling all over eastern Pennsylvania to give him money.

Get the fuck out of here.

Chief actually put his foot down which was impressive. Finally.

We get to the house and it’s not a crack house.. but it doesn’t look line the Sober House on the Dr. Drew VH1 series, that’s for sure.

The girlfriend was there.. she’s nice enough. So far. And we met the house manager and some of the other recovering junkies that live there.

Chief reverted to a teenager and didn’t act one iota like a pissed off father who drug his wife and grandson 40 miles in bad weather to bail him junkie son out once again so I had to be the bitch and lay down the law regarding money. Again.

I had to be the bitch who made it perfectly clear that his son has no idea who he is AND I was the bitch who put his girlfriend on the spot by asking if the father of her son was in his life. Her answer was no. I asked if it pissed her off. She said it did. I then asked if her son’s father was a deadbeat and it pissed her off then why would she want to date a deadbeat?

It’s no secret that his kids think I’m a bitch so why not take the opportunities when the present themselves?

Unfortunately, we were there a lot longer then I anticipated or hoped to be. Maybe a half hour? Less then an hour? But it was at such a time and weather was the way it was that I couldn’t drive. I didn’t feel safe. So Chief had to drive home.

Did I ever mention how bloody car sick I get when Chief drives?

I literally thought I was going to die.. that hot feeling, stomach flipping up to your throat? I was literally in tears because I just wanted to get off the damn highway but we couldn’t.. it was bumper to bumper the whole way down because guess what?

Eagles’ playoffs.. that’s what and the only way we could get back to our house was to drive right past bloody Lincoln Field.. at prime drive time.

Chief did make sure.. in my ear shot.. to ream Weed out about the money, about not even dreaming of asking for anything again until it’s paid back, and for acting like a complete dick about not being at the house.

Like that’s going to make a difference.

At any rate.. that was my day! How the hell was yours??

 

 

 

2013: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

It’s kinda messed up when WordPress sends you an email calling you a loser for hardly posting ANY.THING in 2013.

Like, really, WordPress? REALLY?

At any rate.. in keeping with the tradition, we’re going to trip the light fandango and re-hash 2013 “Leese-Style”.

OMG! But let me just say that maybe.. JUST maybe WordPress.. I’d post more if the damn site didn’t change every bloody time I logged on! Jeez.. I mean.. I’m getting too freakin’ old and too freakin’ busy to have to relearn everything.

Rant ended

Okay.. so anyway, here we go!

The Good
T3 is now 18 months of boy-monkey stuck on extreme. Climbing everything and racing around the house bouncing off of walls like pinball. No seriously. He’s made “bouncing off walls” an art form with the bruises to prove it. His pediatrician tells me this is all normal.. that little boys are made of rubber and the only way they smarten up is to bang every part of their body on every hard surface available.

Yeah.. ok.. but you can’t blame me for sticking one of those Michael-Jackson-Kid-Disguises on him when we’re in public. Why waste CYS’ time with an investigation, right?

NOTE: That was a joke, people.

Anyway…

So he’s talking up a storm in his own made-up language :: I have to make time to take the Rosetta Stone course :: but does say “Hi”; “MomMom”; “Baba”; “Juice”; “Teddy”; “FuckYouBitch”.

Okay.. so maybe the last one he says in his made-up language but believe me, the body language is QUITE clear!!

Given his beginnings, he is a very healthy, normal, well-adjusted kid who gives BIG HUGS and kisses unless he doesn’t want to and then he just squirms out of your arms saying “NO MOMMOM!”

I do believe him scarring me will be far worse then any scars he’ll have from me!

18 Months Ago

Today (well about a week ago)

As for me, I’m loving my job as a Revenue Cycle Manager for a company that has 10 medical practices nationally. Not sure how much ranting, bitching and complaining I’ve done since last year but the thumbnail is that the company I started working for in May 2011 was sold in December 2011 to a bunch of Southern gentleman who had issues with Yankee woman.

I’ll be kind and just leave it at that.

At any rate, these lovely :: vomit in my mouth :: Southern gentleman made the decision in February 2012 to close my office effective September 2012.

“Oh Shit!” you might say on my behalf but the one thing these Southern gentleman would not give us Yankee woman credit for is “moxy”.

Ok.. ok.. BALLS.

Just to make this a little easier to understand.. I work in the area of healthcare that provides a specialty service. When I worked for Company 1, there were very few people doing what we did and if they did.. they were no where NEAR as successful because Company 1 was owned by the “founding father” of the service. But in all things healthcare, it’s the biggest fish in the pond that has all the bars of gold. It’s difficult to have a privately held practice anymore and so Company 1 had the “For Sale” stuck to it and offers from Company 2 and Company 3.

Company 2 was a bunch of Southern Gents that thought that God held them as high as He did Jesus. Company 3 were newer to the industry and didn’t have as much money to hook the sale.

So I became a number in Company 2’s files.

But they didn’t like to play nice in the sandbox and more importantly, the didn’t know what they didn’t know so processes that proved very lucrative were abolished and our lives quickly spiraled down to Dante’s 6th level of hell.

And when I tell you we were miserable.. we were M.I.S.E.R.A.B.L.E.

So my boss.. the least liked of the Yankee woman.. went to Company 3 and said, “.. listen, if you want to be the biggest, baddest mother fuckers in the industry, take Company 2 down and make a whole bunch of money while doing it then I have a whole office of people that can start on Monday“.

And that’s basically what happened. We all gave our notices.. left on Friday and started working for Company 3 on Monday and it’s been awesome. Chaotic, yes. Plenty of WTF moments but the staff that came with us and the staff that we hired fit like puzzle pieces and we’ve been achieving great things.

Plus my boss is The. Best. CEO. Ever!

He’ll never ever ever ever read that but I know how blessed I am to not only be working but doing what I love and loving who I do it for.

For those of you who remember Consuela, I’m sad to say that she’s gone to the great RV park in the sky and was replaced with Estelle.

Okay.. so we raped Consuela for all her parts and appliances and rebuilt Estelle from the ground up but it was a necessity. Consuela was HUGE and was a pain in the ass to haul around. Plus, I was spending 75.00 bucks a pop to store her. Estelle fits nicely in our driveway.

As far as the kids go, I guess it would fit into the “good” category since adding “indifferent” to the title would just seem like a bitchy thing to do.

Spaz is 15 now.. doing better in school and really isn’t so much of a “spaz” anymore. I would change his name but after what? 7 years of calling him “Spaz” it would just be too confusing to change it. Most of his time is spent in his room on the computer. I don’t look in there. I’m afraid.

Bubba graduated high school this past June. A feat that was either going to have the angels singing or the four horseman clopping down the highway. He was suppose to enlist but didn’t. He was suppose to get a job but didn’t. He was still living with is friend’s family up until last week when he suddenly wanted to move in with Chief’s brother Sarge. Don’t know why. Don’t really care.

Weed is supposedly doing well (that indifferent thing again). From what I am made to understand :: let’s not get into that now :: he is living in a sober house, is working, has a girlfriend with a 6 year old daughter :: let’s NOT get into that now :: and less then hardly ever sees T3 let and never calls to ask how he is.

Bubba and Weed not being around definitely puts my life in the GOOD category!!

The Bad

I can honestly say that there hasn’t been any “bad” this past year.

Yes, things were hard. Money was tight. I’ve grieved for people I love who have passed on and have been aggravated, pissed of, sad, angry, depressed, etc. etc. etc.

But I really can’t say anything was “Bad”

Or maybe I’m intentionally blacking out the memory. :: shrug ::. I’ll take it!

The Ugly

The only thing that belongs here is T3’s mother. And no, I’m not referring to her looks :: although the Ronald McDonald red hair gives sooooo much fodder :: I’m referring to her involvement in T3’s life.

Let’s be blunt.

I want her no where near him.

But, ultimately, it’s Chief’s decision because he is the one with the custody. And let’s be frank, shall we? He doesn’t have the balls to keep her away the same why he didn’t have the balls to keep the Crack Whore away from his own kids. So he’ll trump me and it pisses me off and then I get pissed at him and then he gets stupid because he doesn’t get why I’m pissed and it’s this whole merry-go-round of drama that I’d rather avoid.

Tried the ride the first time and threw up my lunch, so.. You pick and choose your fights, yknow?

Anyway, on the flip side of that, I have to say that she actually has an interest in her son.. wants to spend time with him and buys him stuff when she can.

A HELLA lot more then Weed does.

She isn’t allowed take him anywhere on her own (I so won that battle) so when she does take him, she’s either with her sister (who’s a parent and a relative good standing member of society) and/or her mother who we see regularly because she cuts our lunch meat at the deli counter in the super market we go to. Pays to be friendly to the lady cutting your lunch meat.. even if you ARE raising her grandson with not one phone call, visit or offer to help with anything. So far there was a zoo trip, park trip, orchard trip and trick-or-treating.

Her sister passes along stuff like jackets and snow suits and things that her 4 year old son had grown out of and now that she’s working, she spent tons of money that she didn’t have to on buying T3 toys and clothes and stuffed animals for Christmas.

But do I really have to explain how my stomach twists inside and out when she’s around him or takes him somewhere?

And I guess that’s the root of it. I’m raising him. I do the dirty work. I put the blood, sweat and tears into raising a well adjusted boy so he won’t grow up to be a broken man. MY life came to a screeching halt 18 months ago when I lost the ability to sleep when I wanted, buy what I wanted, go where I wanted when I wanted, remove myself from the center of the universe and put T3 in my place… and I resent the fuck out of the fact that she can breeze in when she wants, play mommy when she wants and then goes back to living her life the way she wants to.

Don’t get me wrong.. I do NOT regret my grandson. I do NOT regret raising my grandson. Coming home from work and having him race across the room yelling “MomMom” is far better then any ugly she brings into the fold.

It just sucks.

It’s close to midnight so I hope every one of you has great things in store for you in the coming year. I hope you are blessed beyond your own limitations and that you and your loved ones are safe and prosperous in 2014!

 

Elvis Has Left The Building.. Kinda Sorta

I have to say this.

Anyone who knows me outside of this blog :: and some that know me only through this blog :: knows that when when push comes to shove, I’ll always do the right thing. And, I have a very strong moral compass. There’s just somethings you don’t do.. and things that you must maintain responsibility for especially when someone’s very existence is involved and even if things don’t turn out the way you wanted / hoped / thought.

Meet Elvis, Chief’s oldest nephew by his oldest brother, Houdini.

Houdini was young when he got Elvis’ mom pregnant :: come on, are you surprised?? :: and when Elvis was an infant, Houdini got into some kind of trouble with the law and booked. Just left his car wherever he had crashed it and took off to parts unknown. One of those “parts” happened to be the Philippines where he met a woman, may have or may not have married her and returned to the states.

From what I understand, he’s been in at least 40 of the 48 continental united and not only continued to spread his seed all over the damn place but does so under assumed names.

I honestly don’t think I want to know more then that.

Anyway..

Elvis’ mother left the area when Elvis was 6 months old.. hooked up with this guy and then that guy and wound up in a few different states before ending up in Vegas.

Elvis’ life was less then ideal. Never knowing his father. Never knowing that he had family who spent a great deal of time and money trying to find him before giving up when he was 6 because someone told someone who told someone else that Elvis had passed away.

What really happened was that Elvis’ mother had had another baby that, sadly, had died from SIDS and whoever the first “someone” was, didn’t really communicate the situation properly.

Elvis was a troubled kid who spent half his life (he’s now 30) in and out of jail for various reasons. Least of which was his inherited temper and need of anger management.

Last year, through the beauty of Facebook :: where else? :: Elvis started to loosely connect with the family his mother took him from… me being one of them.

And then he promptly went back to jail on a probation violation. Or a parole violation. I still don’t know what the difference is but he violated something and back in he went.

Me… being me.. and have this inane desire to heal wounded birds.. started writing to him in jail almost daily.. put money on his books every payday :: for those of you who haven’t had the fortune of supporting someone in jail, “putting money on the books” basically means adding money to his jail bank account so that he can buy things like deodorant, paper, envelopes, etc.).:: and basically filled him in on his family. I stayed in contact with his mother :: again, another FB connection :: and all his return mail was filled with optimism and how he was getting too old for this shit and how he wanted to change his life when he got out.

Now, I’m not fool. I know that people find God in war trenches and people in jail swear they’re going to change. But, like I said, I’ll give any one a second chance until they prove me wrong so while I was cautiously optimistic, I had every intent on doing whatever I could to help him out.

What I didn’t know then was that Elvis was also in contact with Chief’s OTHER brother, Douchebag.

NOTE: Chief has three brothers. Houdini is the oldest, Douchebag is the second born and then Chief and Sarge are the twins.

Douchebag is a douchebag for a lot of reasons. He thinks he is the center of the universe.. waxes poetic in 3am drunken rants about how important family is and how he’s the self appointed “patriarc” of the family (even though his father is still alive and kicking) but really doesn’t give a rats ass about anyone or anybody unless there’s something in it for him. He has one biological daughter, a lesbian with “daddy” issues that he can’t control :: she is 21 for Pete’s sake :: and does everything possible to make her life as miserable as she makes his. Let’s just say he has major issues.

When I found out that Elvis was in touch with Douchebag and that Douchebag offered to fly him out of Vegas to his compound in forrest, promising him the yellow brick road to getting his life in order I was more then suspicious. In fact, I didn’t think it was anywhere near a good idea for a few reasons but mainly because I felt that Douchebag had a hidden agenda. That being that he would be able to “control” Elvis in ways that he wasn’t able to control his daughter.

I voiced my concerns to Elvis’ mother.. and then once he was released, I voiced them to Elvis.

A lot of things happened in the time between when he was released to when he flew out here. Mainly, he had a argument with his mother’s boyfriend and got kicked out of their home. So he was on the streets in Vegas with no where to go .. no money.. and no options.

A lot happened and a lot of opinion changing was going on but that’s a minor point in the story so I’ll skip it.

Douchebag did fly him out here and after a brief pit stop at my house, Douchebag and his tw*t wife drove to my house to pick him up. I don’t like his wife. She’s phony and pretentious and has delusional thoughts. They’re a perfect match.

I had a heart to heart with Elvis about keeping his nose clean.. being a good influence on Douchebag’s daughter and not falling into his old habits of drinking and smoking weed. Especially because Douchebag drinks and his daughter smokes weed. I told him, basically, that he’s the only one at the table with anything to lose.. and what he would lose is everything. Keep his distance… be respectful and appreciative.. and most of all, if things start to turn into something that’s going to get him in any kind of trouble to call me.

I don’t live close to Douchebag. Forty minutes one way. But I kept extending the invitation for family dinners and twice I drove out there, picked him up, and drove him back. That was it. All the letter writing and money and support that I extended didn’t seem to mean anything because he took up with Douchebag’s daughter and her friend.. was getting drunk and getting high… and they would get drunk with Douchebag and his wife. Black out drunk.

Mind you, I find all this out through Facebook posts. I hadn’t heard from him after the second week he was in the state.

I was beyond offended but you know what? I have other things going on in my life and they’re all adults who know the game but it wasn’t until they all blew off the duel party we had for the baby’s 1st birthday and Bubba’s graduation AND Elvis friended the crack whore’s brother on Facebook that I was done.

The only thing that changed was who he was doing his shit with. So I “unfriended” all of them from my FB account. Wiped my hands and that was that.

Come on.. you know it wasn’t going to be that easy!

About three weeks ago, I get this bizarre email from Douchebag at 4am saying that Elvis is on his way to my house. Then, a few hours later, his tw*t wife called and told Chief that they had all been drinking the night before and Douchebag said something smart-ass about Elvis and Elvis freaked out and punched him. She didn’t want him on their property anymore and wanted Chief to drive out there.

Chief wasn’t about to do that. He was the only one who saw Elvis for what he is… that being his nephew, yes, but also a stranger who knew nothing except being in a cage for half his life. Yes, he wanted him to succeed, yes he wanted to develop a relationship with him eventually but he told Douchebag from the jump that he needed to treat Elvis like a man.. and make him find a job so that he could build a life.

Douchebag did the opposite. He kept him on the “plantation”, completely reliant on him for everything. He had him to odd jobs on the property to “earn his keep” without affording him the opportunity to make money and move on.

So this fight happens and guess what’s next? Yep, my phone is blowing up with calls from Elvis. Oh, now you want to contact me? Now you need my help?

I honestly thought that when everyone became sober and cured their hangovers, pride would be put on the back burner and at the very least, Elvis would be heading back to Vegas.

That didn’t happen.

Douchebag through him off his property.. told him not to come back or he’d call the police and charge him with trespassing and his tw*t wife took whatever belongings he did have and dumped them in a McDonald’s parking lot. They wiped their hands and that was it. Left him with nothing.. no money.. no people.. no phone.. no transportation.. Nothing.

He was fortunate that he had met a girl just before this happened and she let him crash on her couch but it wasn’t going to be a permanent thing and if his DNA holds true, the situation was going to get to him and he was going to find himself out on the street.

I had an attack of conscience after mulling everything over. We were the only other people in THE STATE the he knows. I don’t have the room for him to stay here.. in fact, my house isn’t big enough for the people who already live here.. but I thought that I could at least help him find a job.

So I’ve been trying to do it but it’s hard because he has a serious record.. he doesn’t have a local license.. he doesn’t have a phone.. every detriment you can think of, it’s on him.

But, in a way, he brought it on himself. He had just taken my advise and stayed away for anything mind-altering, things would be different. If he had stayed in contact with me, things would have been different. But everyone made their bad choices and I can’t be the one to keep cleaning up things for people who don’t appreciate what I’ve already done.

And the Douchebag? He brought him out her. Regardless of what happened, he was responsible for him. You just don’t cut someone loose with no options.. with no means of anything.

That didn’t sit right with Chief and piled on top of everything Douchebag had done, said and did in the last few years it would be best for his well being if he stays far.. far away from Chief.

I haven’t heard anything from Elvis since last week. I’m not sure if any of the story he gave me was true. One minute he’s saying how great this girl is and the next day it’s hell.

I want to help.. but I don’t know what I really can do.

Now.. where the hell is my reality show contract??? Shhhsh!!!