It All Started With A Hairbrush…

See this picture here???

That’s ME… in.. um… 1971??? And no, that’s not a typo, ok? OK? OK??????

Anyway, I found this on Facebook.

Facebook is obviously filled with ALOT of people who think it’s a REALLY GOOD idea to dig through boxes of pictures in their mother’s basement so that they can start a group JUST FOR their KINDERGARTEN CLASS from 1971!!!!

Ok.. so I’m not really that perturbed about it.. I actually think it’s kinda funny since I SO remember the day this picture was taken!!

My kindergarten class (the epitome of child indoctrination of the cult that is Catholicism) was divided between the morning class and the afternoon class. I was in the afternoon class. Probably because my mother knew even at age 5 that I wasn’t a morning person!

Now.. yknow.. since I was soaking in testosterone stew for 3 months before I born.. I was a major tomboy. Scraped knees.. smudged nose.. always climbing on something and then falling off it.. so when picture day came and my mother insisted on putting me in a DRESS… I was SO not in cooperative mood.

And then…

THEN…

She had the AUDACITY to try and attack me with a brush.

Of all damn things… a brush!

She tried to literally brush my hair.

Can you believe that???

BRUSH.

MY.

HAIR?????

What the HELL was she thinking?

Now.. I know my mother was trying to comes to terms with her daughter being a tomboy and just wouldn’t submit to it so she kept my hair long. Long hair on tomboys is NOT a good thing… so when she literally had to force me on the kitchen chair kicking and screaming to brush the mass of tangled knots that was my hair, I screamed bloody murder.

And when I say screamed, I mean S.C.R.E.A.M.E.D

Screamed SO loud that the neighbor that lived either behind us or next door to us :: I don’t remember :: thought something was REALLY REALLY wrong in our house and called the police.

I believe.. since it was 1971.. this was before the 911-era

Do you know how embarrassing it was for my mother to have the police show up at her door because her tomboy daughter SCREAMED at having her hair brushed for a kindergarten picture in 1971??

I’ll give you a hint… PRETTY FUCKING EMBARRASSING!!

After hearing the situation.. and me so NOT seeing the opportunity to bust my parents for being completely abusive for not allowing their 5 year old tomboy to wear PF Flier sneakers or for buying me a GIRL’S bike instead of a boy’s bike.. the cop gave me a stern lecture and stood there watching while my mother just stuck some stupid pony tails in my head.

Freakin’ Dudley Dooright!

So after enduring the three hour afternoon kindergarten class where EVERYBODY had just something to say about my dress and pony tails, my mother AND FATHER :: I so remember my stomach dropping when I came out of school AND SAW THE CAR! :: picked me up.. took me home.. and did THIS to my hair

Look at that BIG ASS SMILE!!!

Now you tell me I wasn’t happier with kitchen scissor chopped up hair!!

 

How A Road Scale Almost Killed Me At 1:30am

Do you know what road scales are?

I’ve lived in this county for two YEARS and I had no clue what they were until a little while ago.

If you DON’T know what they are, I’ll tell you.. because my adrenaline is UP.TO.HERE from having spent the better part of 3 hours with the laundromat’s underbelly and WAY too much caffeine.

Apparently, a road scale is a scale under a road that controls the traffic light. If you are the only car / truck / van / vespa on the road and are NOT stopped on the scale :: designated by two thin strips of metal about 3ft long :: , the light won’t change to green. And you’ll sit and sit and sit and curse and curse and sit some more until the traffic light literally laughs at you.. calls you a loser and changes to green.

In my case, it took about 10 minutes of mockery before my heart almost burst from my chest in fright.

So what happened?

Ok..

So my make a left coming out of the laundromat’s parking lot onto the Pike and then make a right at the first traffic light. This puts me on a road.. lane.. whatever.. that has been there forever but has evolved into one of the most heavily traveled roads that cuts through the county. I go through the first light and then am SUPPOSE to make a right at the second light that will put me a hop-skip-jump from my house.

Now, I’ve driven on this road a million times.. and even at 1:30am, there’s always more then just ME on the road.

Until tonight.

I guess everybody ELSE in the county and it’s surroundings had better things to do. Like sleep.

So I approach the light .. which is red .. and stop.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

I know that it’s a long light to begin with and in all honesty, I had to go pee really, really bad :: too much caffeine :: and you know how time never moves when you need to run to the bathroom, right?

So while I’m contemplating whether or not I should make a illegal turn on red.. I hear that familiar chirp come up behind me blinking those pretty red and blue lights.

HOLY CRAP, BATMAN!! IT’S THE FUZZ!!

HOLY CRAP, BATMAN!! IT’S THE FUZZ AND YOUR HANDBAG IS IN THE OTHER CAR!!

My other car being parked at my house… about a block away on the right.. that big, white, monster of a refuge with wooden railings :: my land lord is a dick :: ..

My heart starts beating out of my chest and I’m trying not to look in my rear view mirror as he pulls up behind me and gets of the Crown Vic :: so cliche’ ::

My whole body is getting tight and I’m doing the “omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg” mantra one does when you realize that your freedom’s will be lost because of an unpaid traffic ticket.

I swear everything was moving in slow motion.. HA! Copper was doing this ON PURPOSE! Sure! Make me sweat! Then I just might roll over on the evil doer who’s not picking up after their dog on the cemetary side of the rode! I read that 3 column article in the paper! I know you’re looking for him!

So I may be exaggerating a little about my nerves.. well, maybe not but all I can tell you is that THIS was it. My keen awareness of my surroundings and spot on spider senses kept me as a fugitive this long.. and now I was being brought down by a red light.. at 1:30am.

As the cop is walking towards my car, I figure that my best course of action was to put the car in reverse and leave tire tracks on his chest tell the truth.. OR pray for the green light to that I can take off and legally make a right turn to my house! No.. that isn’t going to work. I’d have to tell the truth.

He was within 2 feet of my driver’s side window when I did a very.. very.. girl thing.

I started to cry.

No the sobbing.. bawling.. wailing reserved for the unexpected death of a loved one.. but the quiet bottom pouting boo-boo lip tears usually reserved for when you get arrested for an unpaid parking ticket that wasn’t yours that your idiot man told you he paid and you can’t pay it to avoid arrest because of a stupid federal holiday that nobody really celebrates anymore.

That kind of crying.

He gets to my window and by now I can’t breath.. my hearts pounding and I’m all IKNOWYOURGOINGTOARRESTMEBECAUSEIHAVEAWARRANTBUTCOULDI
PLEASEUSEYOURCELLPHONEFIRSTTOCALLHOMEANDLETTHEMKNOWFIRST
BECAUSEIFORGOTMINEANDIEVENFORGOTMYHANDBAGWITHMYDRIVERS
LICENSEINITANDSTUFFSOYOUCANJUSTGIVEMEATICKETFORTHATTOO
BUTsobsobNOBODYISGOINGTOKNOWWHEREIMATANDIJUSTWANTTHEMTO
KNOWSOTHATTHEKIDSCANGETTOSCHOOLONTIMEANDTHEYLLHAVECLEAN
SCHOOLCLOTHESBECAUSEIMJUSTGETTINGDONEATTHELAUNDRAMAT
sobsobANDISWEARIWASGOINGTOTAKECAREOFTHISIEVENSTILLHAVEEVERY
THINGINMYPOCKETBUTTODAYWASAHOLIDAYSOTHEREWASNTANYTHING
ICANDOABOUTITANDIKNOWTHATEVERYBODYALWAYSSAYSTHATBUTI
SWEARICANSHOWYOUTHEBRIGHTPINKPIECEOFPAPERWITHTHEMONEY
PAPERCLIPPEDTOIT

He was all WHAT?

And I started the whole spiel all over again :: probably verbatim because that’s how I roll :: and he shined his flashlight into my car and said, “… you have an outstanding warrant for your arrest, ma’am?” AND THEN PUT HIS HAND ON HIS GUN.

I almost rolled out of the car and assumed my own position!

I took a deep breath.. two, I think.. and got a grip on myself and explained to him in a calm voice that in the console of my car he would find the impending arrest notice with the money owed paper clipped to it. I received the notice on Saturday.. was going to pay it today but since the courts were closed, I wasn’t able to.

He told me to slowly… SLOWLY.. open my console and show him. Which I did. VERY SLOWLY.

He was all like “oh. Traffic?”

Like the last three days of my hell meant nothing to him.

I nodded my head and he asked me where I lived and what I was doing out this late. I told him and he shined the light in my eye asking me if I had been drinking or “.. indulging in illegal substances”. I told him only coffee. A lot of coffee.

I asked him if he was going to arrest me and he said he wasn’t.

OMG.. you might have thought that someone handed me a check for a billion dollars. I was so relieved I actually felt weak. Like I was going to melt into the car seat.

He asked me if I knew why he approached the car and I said that I had no. I was just sitting here waiting for the light to change.

HIM: You’re off the scale.
ME: (laughing) Well, I usually get that I’m off the chain
HIM: No. You’re off the road scale.
ME: What?
HIM: The road scale.. THE ROAD SCALE

You could have so told that he wanted to add “.. you dumb bitch” at the end!

ME: I don’t know what a road scale is
HIM: THE. ROAD. SCALE

He yelled that and shined his light onto the thin metal strips that were about a foot in front of my car.

When he realized that I really didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, he told me what it was and what it did and said that he was sitting in the parking lot of the drug store down the street and noticed that the light wasn’t changing and only drove up to tell me that I had to move my car up to get the light to change.

He told me that I should really know that.

I told him I didn’t remember reading it in the state’s driver’s manual.

He told me that he could still arrest me.

I told him that I was going to move my car up so that the light could change and that I could get my simple ass home.

He said that was a good idea.

And that’s what I did.. obeying the speed limit and coming to a complete stop at the two stop signs that delayed me from getting to my bed.

When I got out of the car, my knees were literally like noodles. My heart was pound and I swear my hands were shaking but I can’t confirm or deny that.

All I know is that that damn ticket is getting paid ASAP .. and I’ll be sure to look out for the thin metal strips of road scales!

Read This And THEN Try To Convince Me That Our Justice System Is Fair…

… ok. So considering everything that happened to Chief and me last January with his being arrested :: read the TRAVESTY category :: .. there were a lot of people who told me that I was too close to the situation to see it fairly. That the police department, judge, DA’s Office is my town are “.. only doing their jobs” and acting on tips from “reliable” sources.

Yeah.

Ok.

Whatever.

I’m not going to rehash everything here. Just read those posts OR if enough people want, I’ll just post the crib note version.

At any rate… THIS is what I wanted to post about. And mind you, this happened in the town I live in where there’s only 1 judge and 4 police officers.

About a month ago, a 17 year old was riding his bike through the park. He was approached by a 19 year old who, with a bunch of friends, tried to steal the 17 year old’s bike. There was a confrontation and the 17 year old stabbed the 19 year old with a pen knife. The 19 year old suffered a collapsed lung and was in the hospital for a week.

The 17 year old was arrested for attempted murder and aggravated assault. Don’t remember how much the bail was.. but it was high.

Fast foward and what comes to light? The fact that this 19 year old’s posse video taped the whole thing and put it up on YouTube :: it’s since been taken down ::

The video tape CLEARLY shows what transpired and how the 17 year old’s last resort was to stab the 19 year old.

The attempted murder charge was dropped but the aggravated assault charge isn’t.. so basically, this kid is facing 20 years in jail and a felony tag for clearly defending himself.

The 19 year old wasn’t charged with anything.

The family of the 17 year old doesn’t want to talk to the press because they’re afraid it would have an adverse reaction for the 17 year old. Because, like, we all KNOW that that doesn’t happen, right??

When questioned by the well respected reported writing the story, the Chief of Police :: who’s a real dick, btw :: admitted that the pen knife was just that.. a pen knife. Not a switchblade.. Not a hunting knife.. not even ILLEGAL to carry. In fact, the 19 year old only got away with a collapsed lung because he was stuck with a pen knife.

He also said that the 19 year old hasn’t been charged with anything and won’t be charged with anything.

The ADA.. when questioned about the situation.. said:

the law says you cannot use deadly force unless deadly force is used against you

Um.. yea.. that’s not what that state law allows for the use of lethal force any time a faultless victim reasonably believes that unlawful force which will cause death or grievous bodily harm is about to be used on him

State law allows for the use of lethal force any time a faultless victim reasonably believes that unlawful force which will cause death or grievous bodily harm is about to be used on him

The ADA said that that was true but that the 17 year old had no reason to believe that force was going to be used.

Are you SERIOUS? This man is actually getting PAID to defend our laws and prosecute those who break them??

The 19 year old even said that he was being aggressive and confrontational.. he was with a bunch of his friends.. the 17 year old was by himself.. wouldn’t YOU feel threatened? Especially considering everything else that is going on in and around this town and county?

This isn’t a case of speculation… THERE IS A VIDEO TAPE OF THE WHOLE THING.. so instead following the law.. instead of protecting our justice system.. these Barney Fife’s are trying doing the complete opposite.

Now tell me.. after everything with Chief and the case above, do you wonder why I have complete distrust?

Comments MORE then welcome!

Terrible Twosome

MEET BELLA

Bella - Age 13

Bella is my 13 year old stray that I found when she was about 4 months old.. ravaged with fleas and ticks and who someone :: I’m assuming the person who dumped her in the park :: thought necessary to hack her tail off. Now she just has a stump that resembles a thumb when she tries to wag it.  Bella’s main interest in life is food and sleeping. She’ll sleep when no on is eating anything or will get up in the middle of the night with the munchies. More importantly, Bella only has about 3 teeth left. Nothing serious.. just something that happens with age. She’s a cranky old girl.. especially when Ernie gets his testosterone up and thinks she THE MOST beautiful creature in the world.

MEET ERNIE

Ernie - Age 2

Ernie is a Jack Russell / Beagle mix that we got on some farm in another state. I can’t tell you which farm.. can’t tell you which state. I can only tell you that I didn’t drive and upon approach, started bawling hysterically because of all the dogs that were kept in cages. Not one of my finer moments but it IS moments like that that make me endearing to a lot of people. Frustrating to others, though.

Ernie :: perfectly named, I might add :: was taken from his momma a bit too early and thus has this unusual need to be loved. In fact.. he is the black hole of love.. :: obnoxiously so :: draping himself over you like Sarah Bernhardt giving her best academy performance.

In fact, as I type this, his body is draped over my legs like a sack of potatoes.

There’s a reason why I’m introducing you to these two.

Yesterday the boys had cleaned their room of all the unwanted junk and broken toys and ill fitting clothes and around 6pm, I was taking all the trash bags out back because today is trash day and if I don’t get the trash out by the sun breaking dawn, I’d have had to wait until Friday.

At any rate.. there’s a door in my kitchen that opens to the top of the basement. The basement stairs are to the right.. the door to the back yard is to the left. It’s a tight space but I’ve mastered closing the kitchen door and opening the back door with enough deftness that the dogs don’t run out.

Both dogs LOVE being outside but since I don’t have a fence around my property :: my land lords choice, not mine :: I can’t just let them run around freely. Plus, we live on the point of three intersecting roads and that’s just asking for trouble.

So yesterday, as I was in another part of the house getting more trash to take out, I hear dogs barking outside.

Specifically, MY dogs barking outside.

So I haul ass through the house to the kitchen and sure enough, the kitchen door and back door are wide open.

FUCK!

I yell BELLA! and immediately, she appears at the back steps and starts to come in.

Spaz hears me yelling and asks what’s the matter. I tell him that the dogs got out and I had to find Ernie. He asks me if I want him to help but I told him to keep an eye on Bella and watch the front of the house in case he comes around.

I know how he runs… he runs towards the cemetery.

As I look down the street, I see Ernie toward the corner. It’s a short block so I’m not panicking too much. There’s woman across the street from him with a black setter-mix who’s just staring at him so I tell her he’s mine and start approaching him.

He.. the little dick.. decides to run around the corner.

So I go running after him. Yes. Me running. You may want to notify the authorities in Indonesia to expect a tsunami.

As I round the corner.. this woman with the black setter-mix starts YELLING that my dog.. that! that! BLACK dog..  bit her dog. I tell her that I will be right over to her.. I just needed to get Ernie first.

I run half way down the block before he realizes UT OOH! IM GOING TO GET INTO TROUBLE FOR THIS and starts groveling towards me like he’s subjected to routine torture.

I pick him up and carry him back to the where the woman is standing with her black setter-mix and a complete look of disgust on her face.

HER: Yknow, you really shouldn’t let your dogs run wild like that.

ME: Ma’am.. I don’t let my dogs run wild. I was taking out the trash and didn’t close the back door tight enough and they ran out.

HER: Well.. that black dog bit my dog. I looked down and all I saw was his hair in it’s mouth.

ME: Ok.. let me put this one in the house and I’ll come right back to make sure he’s not injured.

HER: I don’t know if he’s hurt or not. I didn’t check.

ME: Ok.. well.. I’ll put Ernie in the house and…

HER: He was mauled. That dog just came out of nowhere and mauled him.

ME: Ma’am.. I understand you’re upset. I would be too. It’s a scary thing to have happened but I really don’t think he was mauled. Off the bat I don’t see any bleeding. But if you don’t want to wait here then take him home and check. If my dog injured him, I’ll take full responsibility. My name is Leese and I live in that really big white house right over there.

HER: I should call the cops on you!

Ok. This is where I start getting really REALLY frustrated. But I hold my temper because after all, it was my fault.

ME: Look, if you think it’s necessary to call the police then by all means.. please do but I’m telling you that I was at fault and if your dog needs medical attention that I will be more then happy to pay for it. You’re getting no argument from me about anything.

HER: You.. you people… let your dogs run wild around the neighborhood mauling other dogs…

ME: Ok.. now look.. so far I’ve been courtesy to you.. assumed fault and offered to compensate you if your dog needs a vet… but I’m really starting to get a little put off by your attitude since it’s apparent that you just want to argue

HER: YOUR. DOG. MAULED. MY. DOG!!!

ME: YOUR DOG ISN’T BLEEDING AND MY DOG HAS THREE TEETH!

That shut her up but I re-iterated that I was taking Ernie home.. told her what my name was again.. where I lived.. and turned and walked home.

After putting Ernie in the house, I then preceded to drive to our local pet store to buy dog licenses.

In my county, dogs are required to have a license. I went in January to get them but the county hadn’t issued them yet. I went back towards the end of January and they still didn’t have them.

I then forgot all about it.

Given all the drama that happened in January.. you can see why it would slip my mind.

So I drive down there and guess what? Still no licenses. The girl tell me that the only other option I have is to drive 2.5 hours to the county seat to apply for it.

Wonderful.

I get home and go online thinking that with some stroke of luck, they would accept the application on line but of course… luck isn’t on my side.

So all last night I was worried that something was going to come out of it but so far so good… I know Bella didn’t “maul” anything because she can barely chew kibble but what can I say…

A day in the life…!

I’ll keep you posted

Something Wicked This Way Comes

… I can feel it

… Way down deep in my solar plexus

And even though one might say that I’m just being paranoid, I don’t think I am.

Yes, things are finally.. FINALLY.. going good. The shop turned a higher profit this month.. The kids are going back to school next week and they’re getting better at doing the things that they’re suppose to do. Of course, taking away the PS3 and computer access when they fuck up helps but all in all I really don’t have too much to complain about.

Heh.. well, hell I do but not something that’s getting in the way of everything else.

But here’s the thing…

Tonight Chief was later then usual getting home from the shop. When he DID get home, he had walked instead of taking the truck and stopping by the Dunkin’ Donuts drive thru. Highly unusual for him because he can’t get through the night without coffee and since our “real” coffee maker :: read as the one that you put on the stove to perc :: melted because he forget that it was perking away and he would rather DIE then drink auto-drip :: which really doesn’t make sense because like Dunkin’ Donuts doesn’t auto-drip? :: he always stops on the way home from work.

So I asked him about it and he just shrugged it off and said that he felt like walking… but I knew that that really wasn’t the case. I figured he didn’t want to say anything because Spaz was seated at the dining room table so I went into the kitchen and sure enough, he followed.

He told me that he walked home because there were two cop cars passing in front of the store as he was getting ready to leave… Now rewind a little because for the last few days, I’ve been noticing that the police are driving down my block way more then usual. There are only something like 4 cop cars in my borough so to see them as often as I have is kind of strange.

He told me that last night when he drove home he saw one car circling the block from the left and the other circling the block on the right and got the feeling that they were wanting to catch him driving.

Last week or so, he got a notification in the mail from the state that his driver’s license has been suspended because of the outcome of his court case and he believes that the police department has just received their copy. This is a small borough and because of the shop.. because of his arrest..  because of the crack whore.. because of Weed.. it’s not like they don’t know who he is.

He seems to think that they’re just waiting to catch him driving and so they’re driving around the store at closing.. and the house during the time he would usually arrive home.

It felt like there was an elephant on my chest and the only think I could say was “…. why can’t they just leave us alone.”

I can’t understand with all the bullshit that goes on in this town, they have a bullseye on his back. It’s like they are pissed off because they weren’t able to get that big headline they were looking for when they arrested him and because they know that HE knows that they lied, they’re looking for something to throw on him.

NOTE: For those who haven’t read about that whole ordeal with him being arrested, read the posts under the TRAVESTY category

Chief seems to think that they’ll move on to other people to harrass in a few weeks and everything will be back to normal and until then, he’s just going to not drive.

But I’m not so sure.

I’m worried because I’m still PTS-ing over what happened in January. If they can lie and get away with everything then, what are they going to do next? There’s no one to give me answers. There’s no one who I trust to tell me the truth about what’s really going on. And to be perfectly honest, I’m scared of getting sucked into all this.

I’m trying to think of every damn base to cover.. to anticipate what they might do and it’s making me crazy.

Of course, it’s 2:15am and he’s snoring away while my mind can’t stop racing.

I’m making mental check lists of things that I want to get done tomorrow.. like make sure this house doesn’t have one spec of dust or puddle of dog piss anywhere in case they decide to “revisit” the living conditions that are on record from January.

I need to change the burned out bulb on my rear brake light so that they don’t have a reason to stop my car when I’m driving it.

I need to cover the cracked lens with that red transparent tape so that they don’t have a reason to stop mycar when I’m driving it.

I need to fucking insure both the car and the truck. I don’t normally drive without insurance but since I was laid off and wasn’t really driving much anymore, I wanted to catch up on some outstanding bills so I let the policies lapse.

I need to tell him that I don’t think it’s such a good idea for Weed to keep coming around the store. That’s going to be a hard one to convince him to do because of that whole “father/son” thing going on but I get goose flesh everytime he walks in… and because I know he still does what he does, I don’t want him anywhere near me or Chief…

I already told him that I don’t think it’s a good idea that he carries anything on him… they may not be able to stop a person for just walking down the street without cause but again, I don’t trust them to not think of SOMETHING to stop him for.

I’m going to have to get dog’s licenses and start putting the older one on a leash, even though I am not required to have her on a leash if she’s on my property but God forbid if she takes a step on the pavement… are they going to swoop down on us?

I know this sounds ridiculous… that maybe I am being overly cautious at best.. paranoid at worst but if you lived through what I lived through then I think you’d be able to see my point.

The other thing I’m worried about is that if.. for some unknown reason.. he does get arrested again, there’s no one to turn to for bail.

I was talking to my father-in-law one day last week and he was telling me that he doesn’t like the idea of Weed always coming around the store. I told him I didn’t either and he said that he was afraid that Weed was going to get Chief in trouble again and if he did then “.. there wasn’t going to be anyone to bail him out again.”

I got the message loud and clear and I can’t say that I blame him. If Chief isn’t going to take any precautions to protect himself from the trouble that Weed causes, then why would they bail him out again?

I’m just waiting for other shoe to drop now. Because it is. I know it.

So Guess Who Had A Bench Warrant THIS Time?

Uh-huh.

That’s right.

ME!

In fact… I had TWO bench warrants out for me from the lovely borough where I reside.

What was my devious.. heinous crime? What law did I so blatantly break that this after-sight borough sought to bring me to justice :: and pay $215.00 US Dollars for? ::

Not moving my car on street sweeping day.

Yep.

You read that right.

On street sweeping day, a cop rides along with the street sweeper truck writing out tickets on convenient blaze orange envelopes issuing a $15.oo fine :: $25.oo if you wait more then 10 days to pay it ::

Okay… so you’re asking WHY DON’T YOU JUST PAY THE DAMN THING WHEN YOU GET IT? Right? Heh..well.. that’s the thing. I always INTEND to pay it. After all.. the county court house is only about a block away from the shop… two blocks away from my house.. But it’s kind of like this theory I have that the closer something is.. the least likely it’s going to happen. Kind of like returning library books. When I lived about two miles away from the closest library, I was NEVER late with returning loaners.. but when I moved and the back of the library was RIGHT BEHIND the back of my house? Well.. let’s just say that I owed more money to them then to my mortgage holder.

So basically, the road to my hell is paved in good intentions that come in the form of blaze orange street sweeping fine envelopes!

Back to it..

So apparently, I had gotten this ticket back in December 08.

Oh.. the other thing you may be asking is WHY DON’T YOU JUST NOT PARK WHERE YOU PARK ON STREET SWEEPING DAY?

See.. that’s the other thing.

My house sits on the corner of three intersecting streets. Nice view if you can get it :: right! :: and the street sweeper only sweeps on ONE side of the street on any given day. So Monday’s it this side.. Tuesday’s it’s THAT side.. Wednesday it’s over there.. Thursday’s it’s over here… you get the point.

With all these sides and all these streets and all these days.. it’s a little hard to keep track of. I’m positive they do this on purpose because how ELSE are they going to fund the borough? Sure.. Sure.. I can right it on the calendar or set it up as an appointment on my cell phone but let’s be realistic. We’re talking about me here…

Already.. enough tirade.. I’ll get back to the store now.

So I get this envelope address to me and when I open it, I’m literally like WHAT THE FUCK? A bench warrant? You got to be fucking kidding me.

It says that they’ve tried numerous times to serve the warrant but couldn’t.

Now come on.. as many times as Chief has been in front of the ONE judge in the borough :: either for him or Weed :: you mean to tell me they didn’t know where to find me?

It also says that my name has been entered in their database and that I will be arrested unless I pay the fine within 48 hours. What they don’t tell you is that the 48 hours begins on the day they print it NOT on the day you receive it. So God Forbid if the mail is slow!

Chief comes home from the shop and as soon as he gets in the door, I whip out the paper and say, “.. what’s this?”

He shrugs. “A Bench Warrant”

“I KNOW THIS!” I tell him.. “But it’s for ME! And I don’t even REMEMBER getting a ticket.”

He shrugs again. “So pay it.”

Aaarrgghhh!!! Being with someone who thumbs his nose at authority is used to getting stuff like this in the mail is not as fun as it may sound!! LOL

The next morning :: ironically, street sweeping day on the side of the street that my car was parked on thus garnering me ANOTHER blaze orange envelope! :: I go down to the courthouse.

NOTE: As I was walking IN, the kid that works at Dunkin’ Donuts at night was walking OUT. I asked him what he was doing there and he said that they wrote him up for running a red light when it was yellow. He asks me what I was doing there and I told him I had a bench warrant. YOU? he seemed surprised. Yea.. I said.. for parking tickets. He got hysterical. No more tips for him!

So I go stand in front of the payment window where there is a constable stapling a pile of bench warrants. I can’t see if they’re for street sweeping fines or not. He tells me that the secretary will be right with me and I said “fine” or whatever. About 10 minutes go by and she asks me what I need.. FROM ACROSS THE ROOM.. I hold up the paper and say that I got “this” in the mail and before I could get another word out she says, “.. it’s a bench warrant.”

GOD! I KNOW IT’S A BENCH WARRANT! I don’t think I should have said it with as much attitude as I did being in a room full of constables but oh well.

I tell her I want to pay it.. she takes my debit card.. swipes it and gives me the receipt from the credit card machine. Says thank you and have a nice day.

Wait! I want a receipt. A REAL receipt that I can glue to my car window so that I won’t get picked up by the police the next time I don’t come to a complete stop at a stop sign.

She kind of makes like a face or something but goes back to her desk and asks me for my last name.

I tell her.. making sure to spell it s-l-o-w-l-y.

She punches it into her computer and says, “Oh.. you have another one.”

What?

Another bench warrant she tells me. For a ticket I supposedly got in January 09. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. Don’t remember getting THAT one either.

But I tell her I’ll pay it now and get it over with AND I want a receipt for that one to glue to the inside of the OTHER side of the car so I won’t get arrested the next time I get pulled over for not completely stopping at a stop sign.

She prints out the receipt that happens to include a charge by charge detail. I happen to notice that I was being charged $5.oo for POLICE EDUCATION.

Really?

Hmm.

“Um.. excuse me,” I call out to her.. “I have an issue with this charge.”

She walks back over to the payment window and I tell her that considering the police who came to my house thought that the exfoliating beads in a bottle of Bath and Body Works Sweet Pea Body Wash were pot seeds, I think I’m getting ripped off here.

She wasn’t amused. Neither were the constables but sorry. Had to say it.

So armed with my receipts :: which are in the glove compartment of my car :: I am no longer a fugitive of the law.

After going through all this, there are two things that you can count on. One, I will still continue to get street sweeping tickets and two.. I will definitely pay them from now on!!

That Thing Called Karma

I didn’t get a chance to post this over the weekend for the obvious reasons but I thinks something that I really, really want to share

If you’ve read the all the posts regarding Chief’s arrest, the search warrant and all the drama that came :: and is still coming :: with it then you already know all about the ANONYMOUS INFORMANTS

If you haven’t :: and I think I’m going to put all the posts pertaining to it in it’s one category called TRAVESTY. Serioulsy. Look for it later on :: then the bottom line is that Chief got arrested as basically a “Fuck You” from his oldest son Weed. His kid basically set him up.

In the search warrant, it stated that Claim Informant One and Claim Informant Two, both of whom are self professed drug users and dealers, wish to remain annoymous for fear of retribution and bodily harm.

It’s always been a thorn in my side that I don’t know who Claim Informant One and Claim Informant Two :: hereby knows and CI1 and CI2:: are.. the pickings are slim.. the cast of characters small so after analyzing the whole situation and sorting the puzzle pieces out, I believe I am 100% certain who they are.

In fact, as I posted before, one of the came into the store the day before Chief’s last court date.. after having been awol since his arrest. He kept asking all these questions and Chief was just like “.. I got nothing to say”.

Best case scenerio is that CI1 was crapping his pants worrying that Chief knew it was him… worse case scenerio is that he was wired and trying to get something verbally from Chief because they know their case is non-existant.

At any rate.. I believe that what you get, you receive back 10 fold. Whether good or bad.

This was in Friday’s local paper:

NOTE: I know you already know but anything that can identify any person or place has been stripped.

DOMESTIC DISPUTE LEADS TO CHARGES:

Police responding to a domestic disturbance found a 6 month old baby inside a second floor apartment filled with trash, rotting food and a large stash of drigs.

The baby’s parents [CI1],23 and [CI2], 18 of xxxxxx Avenue, were arrested and charged with endangering the welfare of a child, drug possessin with the intent to deliver and related offenses.

“It was sickening,” said Police Chief xxxxxx xxxxx on Thursday, “You couldn’t see the baby through all the trash and debris.”

The baby was taken to a local hospital to be evaluatd and was placed in the custody of Children and Youth Services. The 6-month old is now being cared for by a family member, xxxxx said.

The incident began unfolding on Wednesday morning, when someon called 911 to report a domestic dispute at the couple’s apartment in the first block of xxxxxx Avenue.

Responding officers found the couple arguing on the stairs leading up to the apartment, xxxxx said. It was the third time in a matter of hours that police had been dispatched to the apartment for a domestic dispute, he added.

[CI2] and [CI1] were arrested for persistent disorderly conduct and placed into custody. It was then that [CI1] told the officers their baby was alone inside of the apartment, police said.

Officer xxxxxx xxxxxx and Sgt. xxx xxxxxx looked into the apartment through an open door to check on the baby and were shocked by what they saw, xxxxx said.

The infant, wearing only a diaper, was lying face down on the couch surrounded by bags of suspected marijuana, police said.

“The place was filthy,” xxxxx said. “There was trash and food dumped on the kitchen floor. The refrigerator was deplorable and the crib was filled with trash and debris. I don’t know where the baby could have slept.”

The kitchen sink was filled with dirty dishes, police said.

The food in the refrigerator was rotting and there was out dated food in the cabinets. There were no working smoke alarms in the one-bedroom apartment, xxxxx said.

The apartment was secured and Officer xxxxxx xxxxxxxx stood watch until a search warrant was obtained.

Magisterial District Judge xxxxxxx xxxxxx signed the warrant giving police access to the apartment.

On a living room table, police found an assortment of prescription pill bottles with individual pills separated into small denominations, along with packaging materials and a digital scale, according to xxxxx.

Just outside the apartment door, police found numerous glassine baggies, typically used to package drugs for resale, along with ohter drug paraphernalia.

More then 300 pills, suspected narcotics, were confiscated and sent to the xx State Police Lab in xxxxx for analysis.

The borough’s health investigator and code enforcement officer padlocked the apartment after deeming it uninhabitable. xxxxx said the owner will be sited.

[CI2] and [CI1], who is currently on probation and parole for armed robbery, was arrainged by xxxxxx.

Bail was set at 10 percent of $15,000.00, which both failed to post.

They were remanded to xxxxxxx county prison pending their preliminary hearing scheduled for next week in District Court.

So there you have it…

A few things come to mind:

• With everything they were charged with … with EVIDENCE right in front of the police :: pills, pot, scale, etc. :: not to mention the condition they had their BABY in… why was THEIR bail HALF of what Chief’s was?  Could that be because.. oh… I don’t know… maybe because they are POLICE INFORMANTS???
• THESE are the people who’s word you take over someone who is trying to BUILD the community by having a business there?

Guess Weed will at least have company in prison and since they all have the same preliminary hearing date :: 05/12/09 :: it should be one big love fest in the borough’s court house tomorrow.

In the meantime, Chief’s next court date is the 18th.

In the newspaper article, there was a picture of the apartment. I told Chief that I was sure damn glad there was no camera around the day our house got raided.

He had the good sense NOT to say anything.

Let The Phone Calls Begin

Forgot to mention this yesterday because I was so kephlempt over the whole windshield wiper debalicle but at around 630pm or so, the phone rang in the store.

I was in the back getting zen by playing a round of COD so Chief answered the phone.

He comes in the back and I joking asked if it was our infamous customer G who asks “.. what time are you open to?” every single time he calls regardless of whether it is day, night or afternoon.

G usually doesn’t get off the bar stool much so I can see where his confusions may lie.

At any rate, Chief said it wasn’t G.. it was Weed. Calling collect from the country prison. Apparently, since he didn’t have bail posted, they moved him out to county.

Not that ANY jail / prison :: I really don’t know the difference :: is a picnic but this particular one has a bad reputation.

Hmm.. wonder how tough Weed is going to be WITHOUT being all strung out on Percs!

Anyway.. the whole collect call thing.

They have a system regarding the phones. The person on the OUTSIDE needs to set up an account with this company out in Cali and deposit money into it that’s linked to your phone number.

When the inmate dials your phone number from INSIDE.. the number maps through this system and bumps up against your account. If there are available funds, the call goes through. If there aren’t available funds OR if you didn’t open an account then you get a message that whoever is trying to make a collect call but you really can’t do anything about it because you don’t have an account.

There are alot of things wrong with this system.. in fact, the first time Weed was arrested Chief went on a tangent about how all the inmates families should file a class action suit against this company and the state because there had to be some kind of rights being trampled on in regard to the families.

First of all, you can’t map the account to a cell phone. Only a lan line.

It’s one phone number per account so if you wanted to list your home phone number AND your work number you would have to open two seperate accounts each with a 50.00 minimum.

Only certain phone carriers will allow you to do this. So if you have something like MagicJack or Cavallier or something you can forget about it.

Oh.. and when you cancel the account? Forget about getting the balance of your account refunded. We’re STILL waiting for the 60.00 they owe us.

Chief’s point last year was that having to go through the whole family member being in jail is hard enough … and in some cases, already causes a financial impact on the family.. suppose you didn’t have a LAN line.. suppose you didn’t have a credit card to open an account with? Suppose you didn’t have the 50.00 minimum to open the account?

And I guess their stance is, “.. hey.. if your loved one didn’t break the law.. get caught.. and wind up here you wouldn’t have these problems.”

At any rate .. getting back to last night.

Chief tells me that it was Weed calling collect. He reminds me about the whole phone thing that I just explained and said that he wasn’t going to set up another account. Been there, done that, still owed money he said.

I just shrugged. Not to sound insenitive but I was in the middle of a really, really good round of COD. I was kicking virtual soldier butt!

Fast foward about another half hour :: maybe less :: and the phone rings again. I asked him if I should answer and he said, ” Go ahead. It’s probably Weed again and it won’t go through anyway.”

So I answered and sure enough, the autotron voice said:

You have received a collect call from [Weed saying his name} an inmate at [prison name]. If you would like to accept the call, press 1.

So just for the hell of it, I pressed 1

The autotron message said:

You do not have an account which would allow this call to be completed. To open an account, please dial 1-800-***-**** or if your completely disgusted and feel as thought the person on the other end is a complete fuck up who wouldn’t know the proper way to live if it bit them on the ass, please hang up.

Okay. so that part is made up.

I have to admit.. cause it’s all about honesty here.. when I heard Weed say his name, I felt a little pang in my heart. He sounded young.. and well, I won’t say naive or scared… but desperate. Maybe that’s the right word. He sounded desperate.

I can see now why parents give in all the time and understand why they have a hard time seeing what is so obvious to everyone else… because as much as I do not have to be emotionally or parentally attached to him.. I am.

I flashed back to the first time he as arrested. He was still involved with the Goth Girl and her mother, The Saint.

The Saint was / is a social worker for the state so that just made her know everything about everything. A fact that she would tell you :: by vocal tone :: all the time.

She condoned her daughter’s drug use and drinking because she was under the false assumption that being her daughter’s FRIEND was much more important then being her daughter’s MOTHER. Sort of like the Crack Whore but with a job.

I think The Saint believed that Chief and I were a bunch of low-lives who didn’t provide anything for Weed. How many times did she tell me that “the poor kid” didn’t have a jacket so she had to give him one and HOW MANY TIMES did I have to tell her that he has four jackets hanging on the front porch, he’s just too damn stupid to grab one as he waslked out the door?

The Saint issued another canonization on herself when she got Weed a job.

Let’s back track here.. although The Saint works for the state, her and her husband also park cars at the local sports arenas. They’re the annoying people wearing yellow vests waving orange flags and batons at you when you try to park in a lot.

Anyway.. they had their daughter working with them and so.. because Weed wanted to be around the daughter.. started working with them also.

But yknow.. The Saint took credit for getting him a job where Chief and I just allowed him to be a bum. She didn’t want to hear that Chief had been on Weed’s ass since he dropped out of high school :: with two months left to go.. idiot! :: because it was always about what SHE was doing and how SHE was putting him on the straight and narrow.

She could never accept the connection that it was HER daughter.. who she smoked pot with and condoned her behaviour.. that led Weed down the road he’s on now.

Let’s get one thing straight. Weed’s decisions are his. He has to own them. I’m only saying that Goth Girl was the one who introduced him to the world he’s now involved him. Up until her.. he may have smoked pot.. may have indulged in alcohol but nothing that interferred with school or the core base of friends he had had since childhood.

Anyway.. when Weed first got arrested he called Goth Girl :: who was a junior in high school at the time :: who called The Saint who called me at work. This was around 12:30. He got arrested at 4am.

NOTE: When Chief woke up again to get me and the kids up, B-Rad was coming out of Weed’s room and he asked Chief where Weed was. Chief was like, “… your the one that slept with him” and B-RAD said that the last thing he knew was that Weed went out to go get coffee at the convenience store at the end of our block and then he left.

What actually did happen was that Weed left the house at 4 am with no shoes .. intending I think to go to the convenience store .. but decided to rob stuff from cars first where someone saw him and called the police.

Anyway.. so to go off another ramp there.. but the whole thing is that when Weed was arrested the first time and we had to go through this whole phone service bull crap, the only number that Weed was calling was Goth Girl’s.

We had just had our phone number changed about 3 days before so I can’t blame him for not remembering that and we didn’t have the shop then.

Chief was desperate to talk to him. I kept asking Goth Girl to set up an account but The Saint wouldn’t let her.

I called The Saint.. maybe after the 2 or 3rd day that we found out about the phone thing.. and asked her bluntly whether or not she was going to set up the service. She called me back with a major.. major attitude :: I don’t do well with people having major attitudes as I tend to get on myself :: when I was on the drive home from work.

She said that she was ABSOLUTELY NOT going to do it.. it was interferring with her daughter’s school and she was not going to have her kid’s life screwed up because of this.

So the drugs and alcohol and binging and black outs and hard core partying doesn’t affect her school work, right?

She didn’t like that .. she began to relay EVERYTHING she has done for Weed.. culminating with “… and you didn’t even bail him out”.

That was it. I feel SO SORRY for the animals at the zoo because I was stuck at the obscenely long red light in front of it when I went off. I’m actually surprised that I didn’t bust my windshield.

I could tell you verbatim but I think you kind of get the gist of all my pent up frustration with this woman. I finished up by saying that SHE was keeping Chief from his son and that with everything she’s so ready to say “LOOK AT WHAT I DID” for.. she isn’t willing to do the ONE THING that only SHE COULD DO.

I hung up on her because I really didn’t want to hear anything from her at that point. But I called Chief literally in tears from being so angry… my voice horse from yelling so loud.

He was just as enraged. HE called her up.. got her answering machine and left her a scathing message that ended with him calling her the same foul 4 letter word that flashed letter by letter in a scene from the movie ATONEMENT.

Goth Girl wrote him a letter :: she who calls her mother a bitch :: and included our phone number.. we set up the service nad eventually Chief got to talk to Weed.

I don’t think either of us knew just how deep he was involved with his new world. And I know that Chief thought that this was going to wake him up. Chief faught so hard to get him into rehab and not sentenced to jail … faught so hard to get this removed from his record once he completed rehab and the community service and stuff he was going to get.

Did Weed appreciate that? Nope.

Did he he do nothing but bitch and complain about being in rehab and wished he was actually back in jail? Yep.

Talk about a smack in the face.

And even though Chief knows that rehab doesn’t work unless you want it.. and Weed clearly didn’t.. he still held on to that hope that Weed would come of this realizing what he had done.. what he put his father through.. and where it was leading him.

Nope.

The day he wa released from rehab, Chief picked him up and on the way back to the house Chief told Weed that this was his last shot. Chief wasn’t going to bail him out or go to bat for him anymore. If he wanted to hang with the same crew and get into the same kind of trouble then he wasn’t going to help him again.

So far, he’s stuck to it.

Text Message

Recieved this text message on my phone around 3:21pm yesterday but didn’t actually look at it until this morning.

I had left my phone in my jacket pocket yesterday and forgot it was there until the alarm feature started buzzing at 6:15am scaring the bejeezus out of the cat.

NOTE: Funny how when I had my Blackberry it literally never left my side. Now? I could care less. Maybe the fact that I used to pay an obscene amount of money for the privilege of getting emails every 3 seconds about nonsense had something to do with it!

Anyway, this was her text as she sent it:

weeds in jail again chief.im not getting him out.im so ashamed of him

Not sure how I feel about this.. well, maybe that’s not phrased the right way. It’s not that I don’t think that she doesn’t care about his life.. but I think it comes in fleeting moments. But I also know that she’s seriously manipulative and uses any situation to try and twist to her advantage.

Is it that she IS ashamed of him so she’s not bailing him out for the same reasons that Chief isn’t bailing him out OR is it because she can’t come up with the money TO bail him out so she wants to appear as though she’s the mother of the century?

May sound cynical, I know, but I have to deal with either her or her fall outs daily and have witnessed how her junkie mentality tries twist everything to her advantage. I’ve posted about some of it before but believe me, there’s so much more I DON’T post.. so yknow.. it’s being more realistic then cynical.

But we’ll see how this plays out. According to the public court record, Weed will be in jail until May 12th (prelim hearing) if no one bails him.

Ghosts Of Relationships Past

WARNING: This is going to be a LONG post. I think it’s fair that I should let you know ahead of time in case you wanted an excuse to drink a whole pot of coffee.

“Satan’s Spawn” .. “Mindless Minion” .. “Simple Ass Mother Fucker” .. “

Those are just SOME of the terms that describe my ex-husband. For the sake of time, we’ll just refer to him as THE JERK from here in.

I usually avoid even remotely thinking about the years that I was shackled to him but in all fairness, I truly believe that everything happens for a reason and while I may not be privy to God’s plan for me I know that He has one and my faith stops me from the TELL ME TELL ME TELLLLLL MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE mentality that would only drive me nuts.

I also firmly believe that I had to go through the bad in order to recognize the good.

I met my ex when I was 22 and looking back, there were enough red flags :: hell, NEON ARROWS! :: and signs that would make any semi-normal woman want to run far far away in the opposite direction.

Things like:

• calling me at work and staying on the phone with me FOR MY WHOLE SHIFT :: I was managing a dry cleaners then and 2 days a week I worked a 12 hour shift alone ::
• making sure I called him when I got to the super market
• when I was leaving the super market. Driving me to work
• picking me up from work
• Not liking how my boss interacted with me :: I had a great boss and we had a really comfortable relationship ::.
• making me feel guilty if I wanted to hang with friends. Especially because I had more guys friends then girl friends

Reading this now, I’m like ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS? but back then all I could thing about was

OMG.. HE LOVES ME SOOO MUCH! HE WANTS TO SPEND ALL HIS TIME WITH ME! HE WANTS TO MAKE SURE I’M SAFE!

I really believe that I was “swooning” so much I must have hit my head somewhere because I still can’t believe all I went through.

The thing is .. outwardly I was a strong, take no shit kinda gal. Head strong, independent.. all the Cosmo terms. But the truth is, deep down I just wanted somebody to love me. Somebody to see my value.

There’s always a beginning to everything. Something big or sometimes small that puts us on a particular path. I didn’t have a “bad” childhood. Not like ones you hear about today. I mean, my parents were married until my father died. We had what we needed :: maybe not always what we WANTED :: food on the table, clothes on our backs, blah blah blah.

But the thing is .. there doesn’t have to be DRAMA to cause negative affects.

My brother was born after a series of miscarriages :: 9, I think :: and so my parents were literally over the moon when he was finally born. The other thing is that he was a very sickly baby.. prone to really high fevers and convulsions. He had “spinal-something-or-other” and they were told that if he lived past the age of 5 then he would definately be retarded.

NOTE: Apologies if anyone gets offended by the word “retarded” but get over it. It’s just a word and I’m just relaying the sentiments of 1961.

ANOTHER NOTE: My brother far surpassed anyone’s expectations. Not only did he live past 5 but he’s also very smart. No common sense, but very smart none the less.

Because of this, every little thing he did because cause for celebration. They gave him everything they wanted, bowed to every whim and exhaulted him at every level.

And look.. who’s to say that if I was in their situation I wouldn’t have done the same thing. It was what it was.

Then I came along. The Golden Child cast a big shadow and a very high bar. I always say that the reason why my parents had me was so that the Golden Child would have somebody to blame for the things he did.

I’m only half joking!

But growing up, I always felt that I was second best. Always felt like I was being cheated out of “something” because of my brother. Hell, I was born on my father’s birthday in June. My father who thought HIS birthday should be a national holiday so he got all the fuss and because my birthday is at the END of June there were no parties with my friends because school was out and most of them did the whole go-away vacation thing.

Looking back, I was always fighting. Fighting for attention, fighting to be heard, fighting to seen, fighting to be recognized, fighting for attention… fighting for approval..

Someone said to me years later that a parent will automatically try to protect their weakest child. Looking objectively, that’s exactly what my parents did because they knew that I’d be ok.

So now here comes my ex who wanted to be around me 24-7 .. who worried about me.. who wanted to protect me.. who loved me for who I was and I fell for it :: not necessarily him I think :: hook line and sinker.

My mother always says that when The Jerk was good.. he was very, very good but when he was bad? Watch out.

And through the 18 years that we were married, I suffered the Four Horseman of Abuse :: Mental, Physical, Emotional and Verbal :: there were fights in the beginning where I was so afraid that he would shoot me that I hit under the desk all night.. afraid to even reach for the phone to call for help.

There were times when the tirade was so bad that I would sneak out of the apartment, jump the fence and run home to my mother’s.

There were times of complete and utter selfishness and uncaring. Like the time I was released from the hopsital after a 10 days stay with Hepatitis B and he drove right to Radio Shack so that I could open a line of credit for a 2500.00 computer. This was.. um.. 1991, I believe. OR the time when he was trying to win a bid for a job and I was in the process of having a miscarriage :: I didn’t know I was pregnant :: and he continued to try and find the site of this job while I was doubled over in pain crying my eyes out. Of course, he blamed me for getting lost.

Everything that happened in HIS life, he blamed me for. He’s alot like the Crack Whore in that he believes that the world owes him something.

He never really worked but wanted the best of everything .. he banked on winning the big lottery and moving to the country.. the whole time, I worked. And worked. And cleaned. And worked. And catered to his every need, whim, idea.

When things didn’t go his way or there was some little infraction that he perceived that I did.. he became a monster.

The alcohol and pain pills he popped didn’t help matters… nor did the fact that I honestly and truly believe he is bi-polar. He would get violent.. evil.. say the most horrible things to me that knew would push my insecurity buttons. I’m not going to repeat the things he said to me because that would just give them more life and even now typing this I’m reliving the pain of those feelings.

So why did I stay?

Well.. that’s a deep one. I’m not one to play the victim card :: hate that :: but I believe that on some level, I understood him TOO much.. I knew his childhood was rotten. I knew that he didn’t understand what a “family” really meant.. knew that he was continuing the cycle of abuse that he witnessed as a child.

At one point, HE wanted a divorce. It happened when I reconnected with an old friend :: male :: that I knew from my teenage days. The beauty of the internet. At the time, I didn’t have a computer. I had something called WebTV :: ‘member them? :: and it just so happened that this guy popped up in a chat room I was in. We were never romatically involved.. I just got along better with guys growing up then girls. I was a major tomboy and didn’t get into all the catty-nasty-bitchiness that girls are into. I shouldn’t have kept it a secret but I did because I knew how he would react. He would automatically assume that I was having an affair.. even though this guy lived across the country. He happened to have been in a bad marriage also so we would commiserate over emails and in private chat.

Eventually, The Jerk found out. And began reading my emails. Again, there was nothing in there even REMOTELY sexual or subversive but that didn’t matter. The demons in his head told him otherwise. I didn’t know it then but he would follow me.. had tape recorders hidden in my car.. in my bedroom. Near every phone.

No matter what I said.. no matter what I did.. he believed what he believed and that meant it was the truth.

On top of that, he was in a rage because we were getting divorced .. a divorce HE wanted.

Because of financial reasons, we still lived under the same roof. We had just bought a house that neither of us could afford on our own and for reasons that can never be justified, I stayed under the delusion that we could be and act like adults.

Menatally, I was drowning.. suffocating. No one knew what went on in my house because I was embarassed. I had all this emotion.. all this pain inside of me that I needed to purge.

I couldn’t write in my journal because he would find them and ripped them up. I couldn’t :: or so I thought :: tell anyone and so I began to self-mutilate ( aka: “cutting”).

I’m not going to lie. It tempered my emotions the same way that I imagine drugs and alcohol do for people who need the numbness. My only addiction was a sharp pointy object that would bleed out the pain.

I hid it well. Nothing obvious or nothing that couldn’t be easily explained but when The Jerk found out, he used it against me in a major way.

I’ll never forget the date. November 8, 1998. It as a Saturday and unbelivably, we were getting along in the sense that there had been no long, drawn out fighting. But that happened. I mean, he was always on one side of the spectrum or the other.

Anyway.. a song came on the radio. Aerosmith’s “Don’t Want To Miss A Thing” and he went ape shit because in one of the tapes he had of me talking to my old friend, the video had come on VH1 and I commented on how much I loved it.

In his mind, he took that to me it was me and my friend’s “song”.

I don’t know what switch went off in my head. The term “enough is DAMN enough now” comes to mind. But it what was pivitol is that I started to fight back. Hard.

I matched him word for horrendous word and punch for punch. I hit him as hard as he hit me and pushed his psychological buttons the way he was pushing mine.

And then he got scared. He wasn’t controlling me anymore.. his words didn’t matter anymore.. I didn’t care what he thought of me… so he called the police and told them that I was the police code for a mentally unstable, suicidal person.

NOTE: The important thing to know about this is that he used the actual police code. His oldest brother returned from ‘Nam a mental head and so he had first hand knowledge of the local mental health system. Using the code apparently gave him more leverage of believability.

The cops showed up and asked what happened. I told them my side.. he told them that I was a cutter. At the time, there really wasn’t much known or publicized about cutting. It was automatically assumed that a cutter was suicidal when in fact, the opposite is true.

So they take me to the local crazy house and at this point, I don’t know what’s going on. The cop had said that based on the way HE was acting, she didn’t feel comfortable leaving us in the same house so why didn’t I just take a ride with her to the hospital to talk to someone and maybe set up some outpatient counseling for abused women or something.

I didn’t want to be around him either so I was like “… yea, sure, whatever.”

But when I got there.. and wouldn’t sign admission papers :: Look, I’m not that dumb. I have really good health insurance and because I am in the hosptial field knew that my insurance would pay actual dollars. So yea, I figured I was looking at a good 30 days! :: the floor manager told me that the cops were signing papers saying that I could potentially harm either me or someone else. I had no rights .. at all.

The first thing I thought of .. and it really should have stayed in my head because saying out loud probably didn’t do me any good .. was OH, HE’S SO GETTING HARMED FOR DOING THIS TO ME.

I stayed a week. I’m way over my word limit now so I won’t go into details in this post. Maybe another because really, when you’re the only sane person in a ward of insanity it’s really pretty funny.

Anyway.. to move this along. You would think that after going through all that, I would have never let him back in my life again. But I did. I did because he had already contacted my friends commander :: he was in the military :: told him SO many lies that not only did my friend lose a stripe but was in danger of losing his career. Him losing his career meant he couldn’t provide for his kids.

And like Rock Of Love’s Season 1’s Rodeo says, “.. it’s all about the kids”.

Don’t ask me why I referenced that. Just popped into my head.

Another part of me thinks it’s because I didn’t want to be failure .. because I believed all the negative things he said to me .. because my self esteem was so low that I didn’t think that anyone would love me.. or want to be with me. As much as I inherently knew that it was all bullshit.. that one little cell of self doubt over took common sense and believed him.

Another 8 years go by and by this time, the drinking has increased.. he’s a major alcoholic and chewing valium and percs like M&Ms. My infraction this time is that I had the AUDACITY to go to a major league baseball game with a woman I used to work with.. who brought along her son and nephew. I had been given the tickets which were third row seats on the first base line but because it was a day game it was hard finding people to go with. The Jerk HAAAAAAAAAAAAAATED all sports so he was out of the question. I knew this woman loved baseball so I called her.

Her nephew was in the Coast Guard and when asked if they could give me anything for the tickets, I said no. They pressed and I saw a Coast Guard baseball hat in the back seat of his car and asked him for that.

NOTE: I love baseball hats

When I got home that night and put the cap on my night table :: we slept in different bedrooms :: he basically stuck an electric cattle prod up my ass asking me all these questions and calling me a liar. Funny thing about it is that he KNOWS this woman also.. all he had to do is talk to her. But yknow… when dealing with a psychopath…. !!!

I mean, he even stole the had and brought it to the police station wanting DNA testing on it.

But I was the one in the psyche ward!

So basically, everything started all over again but multiplied by 10 and the night he was so blacked out drunk and held a sword to my throat is the day I walked out of my house.. took the dog and went to my mom’s.

His world crashed and he got desperate.. angry and dangerous. He harassed me. My mother. My 90+ year old GRANDMOTHER.

This time I held to my guns. I knew where it was going and I didn’t want to be a statistic. I had been beaten down SO much.. so so much .. that I had not place to go but up.. so what if I was alone.. so what if I’d never find the love I truly wanted. I was safe.. I had my dog.. my family..

The divorce was final that September and the last piece of business was selling the house.

THAT’s another million word post that involves a 77 day stint in jail for him… forgery charges being brought against me… and a house load of funiture loaded up on my mother’s 3X3 front pavement!

I promise I’ll get to it one day!!