Archive for September, 2010

Yes.. it’s THAT time again!!

The time when I get pissed off at everybody that lives under this roof because they’re pigs. No offense to pigs. Maybe I should say “lazy ass mother fucking slobs” .. not only is it a more accurate description but it will stop all the actual pig loving people from sending me hate mail.

Because, you know.. I actually LIKE real pigs.

So Lazy Ass Mother Fucking Slobs it is.

And that goes for my husband too.. who is SO NO BETTER then his kids.

Case in point:

Every single morning from Monday to Friday, I get up to Spaz’s school work, books and bag strewn all over the living room floor.

Every single morning I get up to find cups on the floor in the living room.. plates on the dining room table.. candy, gum and/or snack wrappers all over the computer desk and underneath the computer desk.

Every single morning I get up to find various bottles of condiments left on the kitchen counter.. with whatever is in side them left in plops either on the floor or on the kitchen door handles.

Every single morning I get up to find crumbs on the kitchen floor and counter and table.

Every single morning I get up to find wet towels on the bathroom floor.. tooth and hair brushes in the sink or on the floor next to the toilet and practically every bottle of shampoo, body wash, soap and razor blades on the bottle of the tub.

Every afternoon when I come home from the shop, the very first thing I do is pick up the dog poop on the front porch. I don’t necessarily have a problem with the dogs going there if necessary.. it beats them using the rest of the house and it’s much easier to clean then say.. oh, I don’t know.. the rugs.

Every night, after I make dinner, I wash the dishes.. clean the stove.. clean the counter and floor.. wipe down the dining room table and put the plates, utensils, pots and pans back where they belong and wipe down the sink.

Three or four nights a week, I do laundry.

Somewhere in between all that I clean the bathroom daily.

Mind you, my husband gets up before me and leaves for work about a half hour before I get up in the morning.

Yesterday, I spent the better part of the 24 hours sleeping because I didn’t feel good.

Did ANYONE pick up the dog poop? No. Did someone trample through a pile? Yes.

Did ANYONE clean up after the dinner of cheeseburgers that my husband made because I wasn’t making dinner? No.

Was there grease from those cheeseburgers all over the stove? Pans filled with grease and burnt cheese still on the stove? Dishes and glasses and mustard plops and crumbs on the counter?

The point is that NOBODY did ANYTHING yesterday. Nor do they do ANYTHING ANY DAY.

My husband gets up before me in the morning and if the dogs use the front porch over night, he steps right over it. Spaz’s school work? He walks over that too. Plates and cups and the what not? That too.

And they don’t give a shit. None of them.

You might be asking yourself why I still get upset about it.. I mean, I’ve been blogging about this shit for a long.. long time.

The fact is, I’m not upset about it.. Like the post title says, familiarity breeds contempt. And that’s where I am now. Contempt. Disapproval tinged with disgust.

The feeling of contempt didn’t start today .. for right or wrong, I no longer care about “their” things. I no longer care if they have a pencil for their homework.. no longer care if they need a ride to church or school.. no longer care if they have clean clothes.. or lunch money or whatever.

Can you drive me to church? Nope.. ask your mother.

Can you drive me to school? Nope. Why? Don’t feel like it.

Are you going to buy class pictures? Nope.. ask your mother or father.

What are we having for dinner? Whatever I make.

When is dinner going to be done? As soon as it is.

Can you help me with my homework? Ask your father when he gets home.

Now.. some of you may be thinking that I’m being child-ish. Or that I’m being just as bad as they are but in a different way. The only thing I can say is walk  a mile before you judge. Because if I can tell you anything with 100% certainty is that my marriage has changed.. my feelings have changed.. I don’t view HIS kids as MY step kids anymore.

I offered myself and my heart over and over again and not only has it NOT been appreciated but it’s been abused. And sorry, I’m not going to allow that to keep on happening.

Tonight at dinner ( hot dogs.. because I really don’t feel like going out of my way to make dinner for them ) all three of them are being told that they can’t rely on me anymore. As far as they should be concerned, I’m just somebody that lives here. No rides.. no money.. no laundry.. I am even contemplating moving into one of the spare bedrooms.

I used to feel bad for my husband.. you know, the single father raising three boys. But if there is a lesson here to be learned, then learn that you can never trust your heart. Your heart will ALWAYS  make the wrong decision when it comes to living your life.

A while ago, my girl Jean over at Jean Has Been Shopping issued a challenge:

Write a letter to your 1989 self.

And me.. ever one for a challenge did just that. Read it HERE if you want to amuse yourself!

Last week sometime I went to go visit my mom. I try NOT to visit her often and I know that sounds really, REALLY bad but for every 15 minutes of catch up I have to endure an hour lecture about finding a job.

Doesn’t matter that I tell her that I’m 45, DON’T live under her roof and DON’T hit her up for money .. she feels that she is allowed to constantly barrage me and it just wears me down.

Anyway.. off point there. Excuse the whine.

So I go down there and she tells me that she was cleaning her basement and found all this stuff of mine that she wants to give me.

Mind you, I moved into her house after I left my first husband and took 18 years of “stuff” with me.. add that to the “stuff” that I already had there and well, it’s a lot of stuff.

I don’t have room to move it all into my current house.. nor would I really want to because it’s “stuff” and if I learned anything about  myself from watching hour after hour of Hoarders, it’s that I’m seriously not one. In fact, I’m probably the polar opposite.

Eck.. sorry.. this is going in a whole different direction then intended!!

The whole point of this post is that my mother found my journals from 1986. I don’t know how.. didn’t remember where they even WERE :: first guess was in the drop ceiling of my bedroom but I can’t imagine her climbing on a chair and lifting panels :: but when she brought up the box from her basement with my stuff there they were.

And OMG!! Did I laugh!!

I always wrote. Even as a younger kid. Stories and diaries and the whatnot so there are so many different layers to travel back to but this one 5 subject, 200 page, college ruled notebook is just PRICELESS!!

So I think I’m going to share.

Because really… this is epic!! LOL!!

Wednesday, 9 April 1986

It looks like it’s going to rain. It’s chilly out, too. J came into work this morning but I wasn’t here. I saw the ticket for his clothes. He didn’t pick up his shirts though.

I was short $10 yesterday in the register so I had to make up the difference. I can’t figure out why I was short.

I had this really weird dream last night. I was with RR and JC and we were going over a bridge, and a car went over the side and into the water. then another car went over. I was going really fast and had to swerve no to go into the water. It looked like the bridge that burned down in Egg Harbor. It was black wood and went straight up and down. It was really stange because we were going to hike back over the bridge like everyone else was doing only on the outside of the bridge. The water was very green and choppy and it had white breakers.

I have these horrible cramps.

M told me that SJ and N are renting a room to celebrate their first year anniversary on April 12th. He’s such a dick. I can honestly say that I really don’t give a shit. Thinking about it now, it was like he was 80 cent short of a dollar. If I ever see him on the street, I mean I won’t go banannas. It’s interesting to see whether or not he’ll say hello to me or not. Probably the “I was going to call you..” line. I think it was a good experience for me though, because I had been the one who did the persuing and to an extent it worked. We had fun for a couple of nights. Maybe if I ever get my own house, I’ll build a bridge going from the dining room into the kitchen.

Well, it’s a quarter to five. Almost time to see Rick. I saw him last night. I waved. He waved. I saw him at 530, which is early. At least, it is compared to the last couple of days.

Dr. M’s fiance just came in. She’s fucking wackier then he is. She came in with Nurse S who’s really a wack off. She makes me go crazy writing up a ticket for this stupid jacket with a million stains on it, then I have to stick a million STAIN tickets on it. She finally leaves only to come back and tell me she changed her mind and wants the jacket back. So I get stuck taking all the tickets for the stains off. Here, she’s marrying the flake on Sunday. God forbid.

My mom just called and was bitching about me not giving the dog his pills. Plus, to top it off, she said she wanted to go to JCPenny’s

**CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!! I was all set to see Rick. the radio was blaring, my feet were up on the table VERY COMFORTABLE POSE!! And this fucking lady comes in and starts asking about her fur. He walks by, smiles, waves, I wave back and THAT’S IT!! **

So last night, I’d told her that we’d go. Now she doesn’t want to go. After she just babbled on about how much she needed pants, and that I told her we were going come hell or high water. You figure it.

But getting back to Rick.. he waved this time and smiled too. Which I think is breaking the ice a little. He passed by 20 of 6. After all, he waved first. i want him. He’s SO adorable. I can see us together. I really can. I smile every time I think about him.

I think I’m going to call M and see if she wants to go down to 3rd Street and do some shopping.

I can picture me sitting outside on the step during the summer and Rick walking back from work. By that time, I hope, we know each other a little better. So he’ll walk by and say “hi” or maybe I’ll have my walkman on and he’ll tap me on my head or something to get my attention. Then he’ll say something like “.. aren’t you suppose to be working” or the EVER POPULAR “enjoying the sun?” or “trying to get a tan?” and I’ll answer and then he’ll go into his apartment only to come back out again and sit on the step with me. We;ll start talking and I’ll bitch every time I see a customer and he’ll laugh and then right before I have to go in for good, he’ll as me what I was doing that night only in a really cool way like, “.. you wanna do something tonight?” or he might even say, “.. you wanna get together sometime” Of course, I’d say “yea”!

More shivers up my spine.

Ok.. is that HYSTERICAL or what?

To make sense of a few things:

  • I was working in a dry cleaners in ’86
  • Rick was a guy that lived across the street from the cleaners and wore a beret and army jacket. Love at first sight!! ROFLMAO
  • SJ was a parking lot attendant that parked my car one night and got an immediate crush on. I would drive by the parking lot every night and beep at him until finally we hung out. Turns out he had a girlfriend who went to school with my BFF at the time. Small world.


This is soooo pathetic that I’m laughing hysterically as I type this!!

So the 15th was Chief’s birthday and because we are so incredibly broke right now and I was DETERMINED that he have a birthday cake, dammit.. I decided to bake one for him.

I’m a relatively good baker.. I mean, I can follow directions on a box for Christ’s sake AND I’m an even better decorator. Especially because Chief has all the decoration tip things and the bags and stuff. For years he ran this cafe/bakery that had old school bakers from Germany so he learned from the best .. he himself even won Best Of.. awards .. so he’s showed me some stuff and I couldn’t wait to surprise him with this cake.

The day of his birthday, I wasn’t feeling too great.. starting to get a cold or something.. so I left the shop early and he told me to just go home, take some Nyquil and go to sleep. Perfect. It was early enough to get the cake baked and cooled down in order to have it all frosted and decorated before he came home from work.

So I dug under the car and found a handful of change and drove over to the reduced price market.

No kidding.. that’s how broke we are.

The cake mix cost 89 cent and the frosting 1.19. Perfect.

I wanted to make a three or four layer cake because I’m a freakin’ over-achiever so I bought two boxes of cake mix and a whole lotta frosting. The whole thing cake to like 8 bucks or something.


I get home and am all excited about this freakin’ cake. I butter the pans and guess what? No flour. Ok. Fuck! But oh! There’s cocoa mix in the cabinet! I pulled a HWCHTKD :: How Would Chief Handle This Kitchen Drama :: and sifted the mini marshmallows and used the cocoa in place of the flour.

Awfully proud of myself for that!!

I mix the first box of cake mix and poured it into the two pans. But it looked really, really low. Like, it didn’t even come up to half the pan. Hmmmm…

So I thought that maybe there’s a reason why this cake mix is in the reduced price market and that reason was that it didn’t make the same amount of batter that a Duncan Hines or name brand would make.


I mixed the other box of batter and poured each mix into one pan.

Ok. So I’ll only have a two layer cake. Big hairy deal, right?

I put both pans on a cookie sheet and popped it in the oven.. setting the time to the instructed 40 minutes.

I started to feel like crap so I went to go lay down and watch some tv.

This was the day that Spaz got punched in the face so when Chief walked home from the shop to get the car and go deal with that situation.. he came in the bedroom and told me what was going on. As he was walking out, he told me that he smelled something burning. I jumped up and went into the kitchen and checked the cake.





The batter had risen and was pouring all over the sides of the pans.. the baking sheet and onto the bottom of the stove. It was all over the freakin’ oven.


No birthday cake tonight.

So I removed the baking pan and waited for the oven to cool down so I could clean it.

Now.. let me tell you something about my oven.

I’ve lived here for three years and it was a disaster. I know he never cleaned it and even though I do wipe it out after I use it, it’s never been CLEANED cleaned.. you know, with like the oven cleaner stuff you spray in? So since I now had this birthday cake mess to take care of, I figured well.. Hell, the oven says it’s a self cleaner and I’m sure that birthday cake over flowed into places I wouldn’t be able to get to so why not use the self cleaner?

So the following morning (I honestly was sick) I closed the latch and put the oven on CLEAN. The digital timer automatically set to 04:20.

4 hours? Hmm.. I don’t think I’d want to leave an oven on for 4 hours cleaning itself when I wasn’t going to be home so I turned it off.. went to work.. and figured that I’d just clean it myself when I got home so that I can bake the damn birthday cake.

But when I got home and tried to clean the oven, it automatically went back to self clean mode. Nothing I did.. no buttons I pushed.. would turn it off.

Great. Nothing to do but let it do what it was going to do, right? It’s not like I was going to be able to surprise him with a cake now anyway.. So the oven went ahead an started self cleaning itself for 4 hours and 20 minutes.

Did I mention that it was like, 95 degrees outside?

Only me.

This was on Thursday.

Now I’m thinking YES! Friday I will be able to make a damn birthday cake!! I had left the oven alone all day Thursday.. didn’t even attempt to open the oven door until Friday afternoon JUST IN CASE!!

Friday afternoon I come home from work .. all psyched to get this cake going.. get everything ready to go.. put the oven on preheat.. and nothing.

Nothing but the CLEAN light blinking.


Absolutely nothing I did got the oven back to being an oven. I called Chief and after explaining to him over and over again that I tried everything there is to try .. even cutting off the circuit breaker for a few minutes because I couldn’t move the oven out to unplug it.. I asked him to PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE call the guy who owns the appliance store across the street from our store and ask him what the hell I can do..

He called me back and told me that the dude just happened to be walking across the street to come into our store and said that he would come up to the house to check it out at 5:30.

But he never showed.

And the oven still is stuck on clean..

And I never got to make the birthday cake..

Of course, the weekend came and the last thing that anyone was thinking about was the oven..

I tried it again this morning thinking that the birthday cake fairy sprinkled some of her magic dust on it and it would work but still the same thing..

So I’m letting it rip again.. maybe it knows that it’s not as clean as it should be and wanted to clean itself again..


But I’ll give it a shot and see what it does..

In the meantime, if anyone knows ANYTHING about a HotPoint Self Cleaning that refuses to NOT self clean, give me a hollar!!

.. so about two years ago, (No Longer.. Maybe) Weed was living with us and in one of Dante’s Infernos with his drug and alcohol abuse.

NOTE: Let me just interject here that (No Longer.. Maybe) Weed was 18 when I came into his life and because I considered him an adult, didn’t really intrude on his privacy. Maybe I should have.. maybe Chief definitely should have but it’s just the way it was. Neither of us had no clue how deeply addicted he was.

.. anyway

So two years ago he gets arrested stealing crap out of our neighbors cars.. barefoot.. at four o’clock am.

We actually didn’t find out until the following day but that’s another store for another time and one that I really don’t think I want to revisit.

Anyway.. that arrest was what prompted the first stay in rehab and because it was his first offense, they were putting him in the ARD program. That being something which, had he completed, would have wiped his file clean.

But come on.. even YOU knew that wasn’t going to happen, right??

A year after his arrest, he was called into court about his fines. He hadn’t paid anything on them and you know, they take that seriously. So they sent this letter basically saying that if you don’t pay the fine then they were going to remove him from the ARD program and there would be another trial. Or A trial. There was never a trial the first go around.

So the day of the court date comes and he’s all begging and pleading.. and the Crack Head is doing her YOU NEED TO BE A FATHER screech.. and at that point, he had been going to school to get his GED .. or no, wait.. he had just taken the test for his GED.. and so I told him and Chief that if he worked at the store everyday then we would send a hundred dollars a week up to the courthouse and his fines would be paid off by like March or something.

Mind you.. this was December? January?

I even typed a letter from Chief to the court explaining the situation and what he was committing to, etc.

We also sent him up to the courthouse with, I think, 113.00.. which was 10% of what he owed.

I figured that taking 20.00 a day out of the register wasn’t going to hurt us.

And it wouldn’t have.. if anyone did it.

You know.. maybe I’m part of the problem here but I am not going to have all this shit on my shoulders. These aren’t my kids.. she isn’t my ex.. they’re his problems that HE needs to deal with and be responsible for. I can’t help it if I refuse to treat a grown man like a child. I had 18 years of that with my first husband and promised myself not to let it happen again. Sometimes it sneaks up on me but when I catch it.. I do an about face and things like (No Longer.. Maybe) Weed’s fines don’t get paid.

Not that (No Longer.. Maybe) Weed was even worried about it. Did he ever ask about it? Did he ever put money aside from the 10 or 20 that Chief would give him if he worked longer then his self-imposed two hour shift?

Nope.. nope.. annnnnnnnnnnddddddd Nope.

So then in May? June? He had another court date. The judge told him that he had to have the fines paid by September 15th. No more extensions. If it wasn’t paid then they proceed with trial.

Now I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The kid has come around since last year.. he works every day.. and does work when he’s there, not just sits around.. and he was putting applications in for a job… and so I was like, alright. I’ll do my best to make sure it gets paid.

Which meant, that I was use my unemployment check to pay it off. I figured we could finagle the house bills for two months.. as long as the house rent was paid.. we’d make it work.

Oh.. poor delusional Leese.

I wasn’t able to actually put anything on his fines until August. My intention was to put 500.00 on it at the end of August and then the way my checks fell, I would be able to pay the remaining 450.00 of it by the second week of September.

Except in August, Chief needed 200.00 to cover a check he wrote for the store.. and then we went to Washington DC and I had to tap into some of the house rent money so by the time I got another unemployment check, I wasn’t able to pay the 1000.00 / 375.00 like I usually do .. it was something like 800.00 / 550.00.

So I had 300.00 for (No Longer.. Maybe) Weed’s fine but then Chief needed 250.00 for the store’s rent.

NOTE: Now do you understand why I went absolutely bat shit balls on Chief when he made the comment about giving him the money back for paying my tickets????

Oh.. and because I hadn’t paid the previous month’s electric bill because I put money on (No  Longer.. Maybe) Weed’s fine, it got cut off.

So I started to get REALLY pissed off that I’M the one paying for these fines while Chief and the shop are just sucking up any additional money that I have.. and the Crack Whore is always crying broke since you know.. she has all these men paying all these bills and she spends the summer laying on the beach turning into a raisin.

This past Friday was a bad day because of the oven (which I’ll still post about because it’s never really about the oven!) and I was waiting for a guy to come and look at it but he never showed.. and so when the mail came and it was from the county courthouse addressed to Chief and stating that there was a warrant out for his arrest and he had 24 hours to turn himself in.. well, let me tell you.. that was the last straw.

I called him up and told him what came in the mail and that indeed.. it was the last straw.

You see, a while ago he had child support court and after waiting all day to be called, they took some kind of break and he went off ont he court bailiff. To the extent that he got a 400.00+ fine for disorderly conduct that he never paid. That’s what I thought THIS was referring to but after looking it up the docket online, I found out that this was for (No Longer.. Maybe) Weed :: I forgot that he lived here when he was arrested :: and they sent it out because he missed a court date on Sept 7th.

Chief said that he had mentioned something to him about court but (No Longer.. Maybe) Weed said he didn’t have it or he didn’t know about it or something.. don’t remember.. and really, honestly, don’t care.

When Chief looked at the paper on Friday, he said that he would tell (No Longer.. Maybe) Weed on Saturday about it but I don’t think he did.. I don’t think he told him Sunday and I really doubt that he told him today.

Should I have remembered? Maybe.. but you know what? I can’t keep track of everything and why should it be more important to me then it is to them?

I don’t get it..

I don’t get them..

Oh yea.. I'm a badass alright!!“You” meaning “Me”

If you search around this blog, you will find previous posts about the obscene amount of parking tickets I get on Street Sweeping day. That’s because my house is on the point of three intersecting streets and every bloody day is Street Sweeping day and I still.. after three years.. have yet to understand which side gets swept on which day at which times.. especially because apparently, this information is tribal fucking legend with no signs posted for the memory challenged.

On the day the Street Sweeper comes around, the truck is followed by a cop car and if you’re parked where you shouldn’t BE parked, they write you up on a blaze orange envelope and stick it in your windshield.

The cost is 15.00.

I used to pay them as soon as I got them before.. before I was laid off.. before the shop started to tank.. before I somehow became responsible for paying (No Longer.. Maybe) Weed’s criminal fines.

And sometimes I wouldn’t even GET them.. either the wind took them.. or one of the bratty neighborhood kids took them off.. sometimes Chief would take them off and I wouldn’t know about it until I got a summons in the mail.

A few times I put the cash in the blaze orange envelope to be deposited into the special mail box at the courthouse down the street from the store and on the way to Bubba’s school and the Crack Whore’s apartment.. but somehow those little envelopes just never made it in there.

That stopped REAL quick.

So Tuesday, Chief had cut his finger really bad. He couldn’t be around food and since yet another cable/internet tech was due at the house to fix our shit, I told him to just go ahead up to the house and wait for them. It made no sense for him to be at the shop when he couldn’t do anything and it is a very rare day when he isn’t in the store from sun up until well past sun down.

See! That was me being nice.

Anyway.. what I don’t find out until the next morning was not only was the cable guy there, but the constable was there.

To arrest me.

For unpaid Street Sweeping tickets.

In the amount of $228.00.

I had twenty four hours to handle my shit .. well, less by time Chief told me and I freaked out.

I didn’t freak out because the constable was there.. I freaked out because THIS IS NOT ME .. I don’t let shit like this go.. I always paid what I needed to pay when I needed to pay it.

Until I met him.

Did you ever hear of regret breeding contempt?


Almost there.

Especially because Chief PROMISED me that he’d have money for me to take up to the courthouse by the end of the day and he didn’t. He had half of it in the store’s bank account and was REAL reluctant to withdraw it for me.. and even though that’s bad enough.. I really saw RED when he said, “.. you’re going to give it to me back, right?”

Lord Jesus how I didn’t murder the man right there.

Instead.. I bitched him out like he’s never been bitched out before and I pulled out every fucking ace from my sleeve regarding how many times I’ve given him money for the store and he’s never given it back to me.

I believe I even though something across the store but in all honesty, I was so white hot angry that I don’t remember.

Because, you see, what I found out about this man over the years is that not only is he not good with money.. but he’ll do whatever it takes to get what he needs. Sound familiar? He’d be the male Crack Whore if it weren’t for the fact that it’s about his “needs” not his “wants”.

That might be a little too harsh but just writing this is getting my blood boiling. So I apologize in advance for sounding pissed off.. especially something that happened a week ago.

The store is behind on the rent .. business has been down.. and my unemployment check can only be stretched so far. I’m not going to NOT pay the house rent because the store has empty shelves. Sorry, not gonna happen.

The last time the electricity got cut, I told him that THAT was never going to happen again.. and either he better call up the electric company and work something out OR get used to living like the olden days because I wasn’t going to borrow money from anybody to take care of a bill that he didn’t take care of because he needed the money for the store.

He is working his ass off to get over the hump .. another deli opened about a block away which is killing business .. even opening up on Sundays again to make extra money.. but he’s just not business savvy. The boy can cook his ass of.. but other then that, he’s virtually useless.

So that whole attitude and OH MY GOD I CAN’T PAY MY FINE BECAUSE I’M PAYING YOUR FUCKING SONS statement didn’t really make for a happy time in the store but you know what? He gave me that check.. I paid the fines and had the warrant lifted.. and now (No Longer.. Maybe) Weed is on his own.. the shop is on it’s own.. it’s either going to sink or swim on it’s own because I’m not putting any of the personal money into it.

Whether he knows it or not.. it’s just the way it’s going to be.