Posts Tagged ‘Jerks’

Earlier this afternoon, I responded to a comment on THIS post:

I agree Amy … and I don’t think his father IS letting him off the hook this time.

When he came home from school, his daily report earned him an 84 which in Spaz’s mind, was a great day. But the comments the teacher wrote painted another picture. I tried to go over each comments, giving him a chance to state his side and not focusing so much on the “12 year old boy” things.. like being silly or whatever.

But when with remarks like “making gun motions”, “rude comments to teacher”, “disrupting class”, “laughing during silent recess because another peer got in trouble”, “being sent to office because of (don’t remember right now” .. he has to own up to them and not make excuses that his teacher hates him or it’s not what SHE’S saying it is.

He started to get an attitude with me and getting mouthy which made his father blow up and extend his punishment.

Like I said, he may have “issues” but this has been going on for enough time that he should know that he can’t get away with what he’s doing.. hopefully his father is on track too

No SOONER had I shut down the laptop and made my way into the kitchen where Chief was cooking that I heard Spaz talking in his room and I knew… Knew!… KNEW what exactly he was doing.

Playing dumb, I went into the kitchen and asked Chief who Spaz was talking to .. making it sound like a mundane question.

He told me he let him go on the computer.

This after the above.. this after I heard him hollering at Spaz a second time because of some mouthy response to his father and because of his attitude.

So when he admitted he let Spaz have his computer, the first thing that came out of my mouth was “.. you reap what you sow.”

Chief didn’t respond to that.. because what could he say? It’s the truth. And he’s said it enough times to other parents. See, I don’t tell people how to raise their kids.. he doesn’t have a problem with being vocal. Hello? Pot? Meet Kettle.

I started making a cup of coffee and then turned to him and said:

You know how your kids talk back to you and give you attitudes and think they can talk to you the same way they talk to their friends? You know why your kids don’t respect you?

He admitted that he doesn’t follow through.

I told him to remember that the next time he gets all twisted about the way they treat him and talk to him.

And then I walked out but believe me, I was bent.

One time, a while ago, he told me that one of the reasons why he didn’t keep in regular contact with this family is because they always “.. stuck their nose in about raising my kids”.

Um.. HELLO!! Just why do you think that is, Bucky??

And so I find myself in a difficult situation. How long can I stand to be a witness to this? How long can I either be on the sideline or stuck in the crosshairs and watch this man be disrespected and abused by the kids he made that way?

True, that nothing has changed in over three years so how can I really thing that one day this guy is going to “get” it? You can’t convince someone that they need help if they don’t think they do… or if they don’t want to put out the effort. That’s a biggie. Effort. HE doesn’t seem to want to do anything about it.. I, on the other hand, can’t stomach being it’s witness.

If you’ve been following this blog for a while, then you know that every fight we’ve gotten into is always related to the kids or the Crack Whore or both. And whenever the kids are the nucleus, it’s always because we are not on the same page regarding the proper way to parent.

It’s like the soda bottle war.

When we closed the deli, we had cases and cases of soda on the front porch. We told them they weren’t allowed to just rape the porch of it’s goodies.. they had to ask first.

Did that happen? No.

Were soda bottles regularly left empty all over the house? Where the caps all over the floor, under the couch, under the computer desk? Yes.

Did they listen to me about throwing them away? No.

Did they listen to him? No.

A few mornings ago, I woke up in the early hours because they dogs’ water bowl was empty. The computer desk was LITTERED with all different kids of bottles and empty potato chip bags. The table in the dining room was the same way. I wasn’t going to clean it up.. instead, waiting for Chief to wake up and told him that I was at the end of the rope regarding the bottles and I was going to either dump the rest of soda on the porch or give it away to someone needy.

He said he felt the same way.. he was disgusted.. he was pissed.. he was angry.. blah blah blah BLAH blah .. because he’s REAL GOOD at throwing his bravado at me..

So he tells each kid when they wake up that they’re not allowed to have soda anymore. There’s stuff to drink in the fridge and that’s that because he’s sick of them not listening to him.

Bubba’s response? “… I can’t have soda?”

His response? “.. well, you can have soda but I dont want you leaving the bottles around?”

Guess what? Soda bottles all over the place still.

Same with Bubba’s cyber school.

Bubba told me that one of reasons why he can’t complete the IT courses is because he doesn’t have Abode Reader. He tried to down load it but for some reason it wouldn’t show on the computer.

That night, Monday, I told Chief to load the software on the computer.

He goes out to the living room and then comes back in and says that Weed is going to load another type of program that doesn’t take up as much room. I don’t know hills about stuff like that but I said, “.. he’s doing it now, right?” He said he was.

The next morning, I asked again. No software.

That afternoon, I asked AGAIN… No software.

And still… NO SOFTWARE.

So really… what am I suppose to do at this point? There’s a WHOLE LIST of he shoulds.. he coulds.. you should.. you could.. but frankly, been there done that a million times already.

And now I’m thinking that maybe this move to West Virginia isn’t the right thing for me. They can go.. Godspeed.. but I don’t think that knowing how this is just going to continue and continue and continue… and me being 9 hours away from everything that I am familiar with and comfortable with going to be healthy for me.

Maybe this is the catalyst to being able to do what I need to do for myself.


Even though I write three other blogs, I’ve kept this one alive for a reason..

1. There’s some pretty funny shit on here


2. Sometimes I need to get things off my chest without having everybody know who I’m talking about.

If it was just me and my screwed up antics, that would be one thing. I freely wave my “fucked up” flag with boldness.. but it isn’t just about me, it’s about people in my life with their own family and friends.. and while I would gladly post pictures, names, addresses, phone numbers and license plate numbers of SOME people, I can’t.

And so here I am…

And these are the deeds…

First, to catch up on some stuff, we’re moving.  Loooooooooooooong story here that I’m not going to bore you with but by January 31st, we’re going to be planting out asses 8 hours away from where we’re at now.

That’s good and bad. Bad because I’m going to be so far away from my family and friends and well, my shelters from the storm. Good because we’re going to be that far from the Crack Whore.

She is whom the picture on this post is referring to.

So where to begin with that? Well, there’s the whole child support thing. 43.00 a week for two kids. She didn’t pay July, August or September so the courts sent out a summons to appear. She paid it two days before the court day and told Chief not to show. He went anyway because that’s what you’re suppose to do. She didn’t show. Didn’t look good for her but because she had paid it, oh well.

The she skipped October, November and December. Another summons. Another court date on Dec 8th. Another call telling him not to show. Only this time she didn’t pay anything and on the day of court, he showed up.. she didn’t. The courts called her.. she asked for an extension. They said no way.. she would have until the end of the following day to pay it or else they would issue a bench warrant.. she still hasn’t paid and now there’s another hearing on Feb 28th.

Because her reality is clouded and because she refuses to accept responsibility for her actions, she went around telling the boys that their “… asshole father is trying to put her in jail for missing ONE month”. That’s a direct quote there.

Just to make sure we are absolutely clear here:

HE didn’t call anyone… the courts automatically schedule a date after three months of non-payment

SHE missed more then ONE month.

Now.. with all that in mind.. two things happened the week of their court date that made me slam the door on anything and everything that even remotely has to do with her.. regardless of whether her kids are involved or not.

The weekend before the court date, we were upstate trying to secure a place to move to. She knew where we were and what we were doing so at the last minute, she tells Spaz that he can’t stay at her place the weekend because she had plans. It was too late for us to cancel what we were doing, so we told Bubba that he was going to have to babysit Spaz.

Not the best situation but we hung a baby sitting fee in front of Bubba and that kid will do anything for cash. The house was stocked with food.. Spaz would probably sit in front of the PS3 until he fell asleep and Bubba would do the same in front of the computer so we really weren’t that worried.

We got a text message from her at 6pm slamming Chief about leaving Spaz home by himself.. how he’s just a little boy.. how it was illegal and she was going to call the police.

I’m not going to go into the whole back and forth thing. I’m just going to say that all attempts to contact Bubba on his cell phone went unanswered… all attempts to get the Crack Whore on the phone went unanswered.. and here we are 4 hours away in a snow storm wondering what the fuck was going on at home. Did Bubba go out and leave Spaz alone? Why wasn’t he answering his cell phone? Why wasn’t SHE answering HER cell phone if she was so worried.. did she pick up Spaz? Was he still home??

The only response we got from her after leaving numerous voice mails and text messages was “… u no ur wrong. leave me be”

That’s a direct quote there.

You know you’re wrong.. leave me be.

So not knowing ANYTHING and not being able to FIND anything out, we drove the 4 hours back, through a snow storm and lost the money we had already put out that we couldn’t afford to lose.

We were NOT happy campers by the time we got home and both kids got yelled at. By me. Because make no mistake about it, they were at fault to.. but not as much as she was. She is supposedly the adult and she knew exactly what she was doing when she did it. If she was really THAT concerned, then why not call? Why not alter your plans?

The truth of the matter is that she had no plans. Spaz was bored because Bubba wouldn’t let him on the computer and he called her to go over to her house. She couldn’t/didn’t want to pick him up.. he didn’t want to walk.. and his attempt at getting what he wanted was to tell her he was by himself.

So. Did this man of mine get in touch with her and ream her for her part in this? No.

Fast forward two days. It’s a Monday night (3 days before court) .. Spaz has homework that he doesn’t want to do. He says he wants to go to the youth group that he hasn’t been to in 5 weeks. When I bring up that he hasn’t been there for 5 weeks, he gets an attitude with me and says something sarcastic about him not knowing that he wasn’t allowed to go to church anymore.

Still reeling from the weekend, I tell him that because of his attitude, I’m not taking him to church. He can call the Crack Whore for all I care. He does and she agrees to take him. Now.. you think that she would pick him up, right?

His group ends at 9. At 9:20, I get a call from him that he needs a ride home. Mind you, it’s freezing out and it’s late. Chief gets up, gets dressed and head out. Within 3 minutes of his leaving (I know this because I was making microwave popcorn at the time).. my cell phone rings and it comes up with the Crack Whore’s number. I answer and it’s Spaz. He asks if his father had already left.. I said he did.. he said that the Crack Whore picked him up. There’s no way to get in touch with Chief so I tell him that they’re going to have to turn around. They were no more then three blocks away. IF that.

Maybe it’ll be easier for you to relate from the picture on the right.

My house is Point A.

The Church is Point B.

Where Spaz was when he called me saying that the Crack Whore has picked him up is the red X.

Not far at all.

So I hang up and within the next five minutes, Spaz comes walking in the door.

I asked him where his father was.

He said that she wouldn’t turn the car around.



Knowing that there was no way to get in touch with Chief because he didn’t have the cell phone on him, SHE WOULDN’T TURN AROUND and go back to the church.

Is it me, or was that the ultimate “fuck you”?

So now here’s this guy.. not finding the kid who had JUST CALLED saying that he needed to get picked up not where he was suppose to be.. at night.. in freezing temperatures.. in an empty parking lot.. freaking out because he can’t find his kid.

Why did you call, Spaz? When she showed up, why didn’t you just wait, SPAZ????? I’m asking him these questions while I’m putting on my coat. There was nothing else to do but walk to the church hoping to see Chief somewhere between here and there to tell him that Spaz was home.

And believe me.. I was NOT quiet about having to do it and with Bubba and Spaz sitting there wide eyed I told them ALL about their vaginal incubator. I can’t even stomach calling her their “mother” because “mother’s” don’t do shit like this. Mother’s don’t say things to their kids that shouldn’t be said (the doozy of all examples coming up in a sec)..

Cousin Bird, who lives right near the church wasn’t answering her phone. I had hoped that she could drive over there. Bubba asked me if I wanted him to call the Crack Whore. I told him that as sure as I was standing there, I would drop her on her simple ass. He volunteered to walk with me but I didn’t want to be around anyone that shared her DNA.

I got half way to the church when Bubba called telling me that his father had come home. He didn’t have to say anything, because I heard him screaming at the top of his lungs at Spaz.

I hoofed it home to find Spaz crying in his bedroom and Chief in our bedroom. I tell him that what she did was the ultimate in “fuck you’s”. He agreed. But did he yell at HER as bad as he yelled at Spaz? Nope. Never even confronted her.

That was when it all ended for me. HE might allow her to pull HIS puppet strings but she wasn’t pulling mine anymore. I could give a rat’s ass about her or anything having to do with her. I blocked her phone on my cell and blocked her email address.

Oh.. but it gets better.

When we made the decision to move to another state, Chief’s father had come over and we were discussing it with him while Bubba was on the phone with the Crack Whore. That wasn’t on purpose. We were already talking when she called and I guess she asked who was over and what we were talking about and Bubba told her. When she found out where we were moving and how far it was, she flipped out.

This is what I heard Bubba saying:

“.. he has full custody”

“.. that’s going to piss him off”

“.. that’s a mortar shell”

When he hung up with her, he tells us that she said that he wasn’t going to take Spaz. That Spaz wasn’t his son.

You read that right. SHE said to BUBBA that SPAZ was NOT Chief’s SON.

She said she was going to go to court and have a DNA test done to prove it.

Chief’s response was that he didn’t care.. Spaz was his son. He raised him. He was his. Then he took the dogs outside because I don’t think he wanted Bubba to witness any other kind of emotion from him then confidence.

Bubba wanted to talk to me about it. All I said was “.. oh, that’s real nice” but then explained to him that if she did go to court and Spaz wasn’t his, then he had every right to sue her for 12 years of support. And she would have Spaz.. what was she going to do, try to remember every guy she fucked behind a dumpster and sue them for child support? Because SHE was going to look SO GOOD in front of a judge… right?

Bubba said she had the mentality of a 5 year old.. I told him I had the intelligence of a 45 year old. Who did he think would win?

And did Chief ever say anything to her? Anything at ALL about saying that shit to their 15 year old son? Nope.

Because he had the opportunity to… had it when she called him asking when we were moving and if we were taking Weed with us because SHE was moving and she wasn’t taking Weed. Nope.

And speaking of Weed.. who got picked up for a failure to appear warrant that they both blamed on us for not paying his fines. Um.. ok.. because how exactly does a failure to appear warrant have anything to do with fines?

And speaking of Weed.. who called up earlier to say that she had stolen the money he got for Christmas so she could get fucked up on pills so he broke her flat screen tv.. and then she started sending messages from her pimp’s boyfriend’s phone saying that she threw all his clothes out on the street and called the police because he broke her tv.

Because you’re going to call the police even though your fucked up on pills with the money you stole from your son. I told Weed, who was just as fucked up on something, that he should call the police on her for theft.. since, you know, she has a felony burglary rap already.

Chief told him he had no right to bust her tv.

I wanted to bust HIM in his bald head.

Puppet strings. See what I’m saying?

Weed wound up leaving the house after he had slept off whatever he was on.. Not sure where he went.. he didn’t even say anything when he left the house. I’m sure it was to get trashed again. We’re his clothes outside? Who knows? Did she call the cops? Who knows.

Chief said to me that he felt horrible thinking it, but he thought it would be a burden lifted if Weed and the Crack Whore got into one of their fights and he accidentally killed her. She’d be dead and he’d being doing life in prison and we’d be 8 hours away. Bold talk but did he mean it? Fuck no.

Because a puppet can’t move without a puppet master.

My plan.. not that anyone has ever asked me but I’ll share anyway.. is to move, get him and the boys settled.. make sure he can afford it and then leave. Come back to my family, my friends and my sanity.

No.. this isn't Bubba's room but it could be..

.. so if you’re a regular reader then you know what the  laundry deal is.

If your new to this blog, then the gist of is that I will NOT do laundry that is NOT in the laundry hamper and I’m not going to chase you around for it.

You want to keep a pile of dirty laundry in your room? Go right ahead but don’t come crying to me when you don’t have any clean clothes to wear.

Leave them balled up under your bed? Tough shit.

There’s been incident after incident after incident of the above which really, REALLY torqued my ass when the dryer was broke and I had to cart five laundry hampers of dirty clothes and towels to the laundromat every Sunday night. Now that I have working washer and dryer in the house, I must do laundry at least four days a week so there is no reason why anybody should have any dirty clothes around.

Unless, of course, they’re in piles or shoved under beds.

Last week, when Bubba came home from his week at his friend’s dorm room, I did ask him if he had anything dirty to wash. I did this as an experiment. I knew that there were very little of his clothes in the hamper and just aiming for ammunition to store in the little bunker in my head.

He brings me two t-shirts.

That’s it? What did you wear the same clothes the whole week?

He says that he didn’t.. but he didn’t know which clothes were dirty because.. you guessed it.. they’re all in a pile in his bedroom.

Dirty and clean together.


So I shrug my shoulders and get along with my bad self.

Wednesday night I came home from the shop just long enough to bring them home dinner because me and Chief had to go to the wholesaler’s to get what we needed for this huge catering order.

Bubba asks me if I take him up to the local clothes warehouse to get stuff.

Nope. Already have plans.

He then asks if I was doing laundry and I said that I already started it ..

End of conversation.

Last night after me and Chief came home from the shop and Bubba came into the kitchen to see what was for dinner, I noticed he was still wearing the black sweat pants and long sleeve white shirt that he has had on for the past three days.

“Is the reason you wanted me to take you to the store to get clothes is because you don’t have anything clean to wear?

He said it was but that he also needed new stuff because his t-shirts were ruined from swimming in the creek.

I told him that the way to get the creek OFF his clothes is to wash them right away.. and that there were clean clothes of his in the dryer that needed to be brought upstairs.

He said that he still needed jeans because he grew out of the ones he had and so I told him that he’s going to have to wait until I have some money to get them.. he said that the Crack Whore had mentioned something about taking him and I was like Cool. I have NO problem with that.

End of conversation.

Chief had been in the kitchen when all this was going on but it wasn’t until later on when we were in our bedroom and I mentioned that school was starting in less then two weeks and that I needed to get them stuff so the Crack Whore better come through with the child support that the lightbulb went off in his head and he was like, “.. wait. All Bubba’s clothes are in a pile in his room? Doesn’t he know how to do his laundry? And he’s home all goddamn day?”

I just put on a sweet innocent smile and shrugged my shoulders. “What can I tell you?”

End of conversation

So now.. as soon as I finish this post.. I’m going to get the hampers from my room and the bathroom and do more laundry.

Bubba is STILL wearing his winter get up .. and Spaz hasn’t changed his shorts :: or underwear :: in a good week or so. Changes his shirt though.. which I guess he thinks is going to confuse me into thinking that he’s been showering and changing his underwear..

We’ll see what happens.

.. so this afternoon when I got home from the shop guess what I found?

Yep… you guys pay sooo close attention!!

Bowls.. glasses.. forks.. spoons.. plates.. all in the sink.

Gobs of peanut butter and ice cream melted on the counter.. oh.. and pancake syryp.

Why pancake syryp is beyond me but there it was.

So I promptly went into my bedroom and what did I found there?

One of my desk drawers open.

If there is ONE THING that GOES BEYOND anything.. the dirty dishes.. the dirty clothes.. the piss on the bathroom floor.. it’s GOING INTO MY FUCKING BEDROOM.

There is ABSOLUTELY NO GOOD REASON for ANYBODY other then the people that SLEEP IN THAT ROOM to BE in that room.

Can you tell how pissed I am?

So I go out into the living room where the blubbering mass that is Spaz is stretched out on the couch?




I wasn’t in your room


I don’t know. Probably Bubba.

Fine. Bubba was STILL asleep at 3 in the afternoon and I wasn’t about to go in his bedroom and wake him up because 1) I didn’t want to see anything that was going to scar me for life and 2) He would only say that it wasn’t him and I would get more pissed off then I already was.

I figured I’d wait until their father got home and address it at the dinner table.

Bubba got up around 5… Spaz is still melding to the couch.. and NEITHER of them are doing their dishes.

So around 6:30, I go into the kitchen to start dinner and it’s either I leave everything and cook around the mess.. gross! Or I wash everything and add it to the list of things that have to addressed at the dinner table when their father gets home.

I go with the latter..

Big mistake.

As I’m washing in the sink, I put my hand in the to wash a glass and guess what?

The glass is broken and take a good size chuck out of the bottom of my pinky finger.

The blood just pooled out and I was literally afraid that I had sliced through whatever it is that makes your pinky finger work because sharp glass can do a lot of damage.. that’s how bad it looked.

Thankfully, it wasn’t anything more serious then a chunk of flesh.. but that wasn’t the point.

So I wrap the bloody rag around it and drive to the shop. I had to get out of the house before I literally sliced them all up and deep fried them for fondue… plus, I needed a band aid.

I get to the shop and when Chief sees me walking in at first he was all smiles but then he notices the rag and gets all worried. I tell him what happened.. and I told him why it happened.

I’m BEYOND whatever… he keeps apologizing.. for getting cut .. for his kids.. for everything.

I’m almost at the brink of tears because I’m so damn frustrated and I’m not getting the reaction that I would have given if the roles were reversed.

Maybe that’s my problem. Maybe.. just maybe my frustration level increases when he doesn’t do what I expect him to do. Or maybe all the blood loss is affecting my thought process.



So we just get home a few minutes ago and I heat up a cup of coffee for me. He says that he’ll take a cup of what was left in the pot because it really wasn’t that old and hadn’t been heating up for twenty hours.

I say fine.. he walks through the kitchen.. says hello to the boys and goes into the bedroom to get unchanged.

This doesn’t sit well with me. Are you at least going to say SOMETHING???

So my cup is heated and I put his in..

He comes into the kitchen and puts the ground beef in front of the microwave :: hamburgers for dinner, courtesy of HIM because.. yknow.. can’t do anything with a bloodied.. band-aided gaping hole in my hand :: so I tell him that his coffee is in the ‘wave and start to walk out of the kitchen.

“What’s the matter..” he asks.


That’s what I WANT to say.. but I don’t.

I just say, “… you put the ground beef in front of the microwave and I was letting you know your coffee is in there.”

And then I walked out of the kitchen an towards by bedroom… halfway through the dining room, Spaz asks me what’s for dinner. I ignore him and keep walking. I think THAT’S what made Chief start yelling at them about the dishes being left in the sink.

I don’t know what he said.. but I heard him saying something like taking away the computer and the Playstation the next time it happens.

Blah.. blah.. blah.. blah.. blah….


Because.. um.. isn’t that what you ALWAYS say and never do??

A few minutes later he comes into the bedroom with a hamburger.. I ask him why we’re not eating with them in the dining room and he said he didn’t think I wanted to be near them. I tell him that I wanted to find out who was in our room. OH! he says.. By All Means.

So we go out there and we’re sitting around the table and I bust out with it.

No nicities.. no asking.. no hey by the ways… just I WANT TO KNOW WHO WAS IN MY ROOM.

Of course, both denied it. Bubba insisted he was asleep until before I went to work and until after I came home. Spaz denied everything. Bubba insisted that if he did go in our room, Spaz would rat him out until I very precisely told him how he would do it without Spaz even knowing about it.

And Spaz.. OMG!! He started acting like he was being persecuted.. so over it.

Then I asked him if he left the Crack Whore’s apartment looking like he leaves our house.

He said no and I asked him why. He put his head down on the table and I asked him again. I said I wanted to know.. answer me honestly. Is it because you don’t live there? Is it because you have more respect for her then you do for me and his father? Is it because she would come home screaming and hollaring?

He never did answer so I switched it up.

I asked him how he felt when he cleans his room and then Bubba comes in and messes it up.

He said he gets angry.

I asked him if he saw my point and he said I did.

But once again.. it was ME doing the talking.. taking the lead while Chief just sat there at a loss and so I went for it.

I told both his kids that it’s at a point where they’ve made me so angry.. so pissed off.. so frustrated that  I don’t even want to be around them let alone do anything for them.

Chief piped up and said that I wasn’t their maid and I corrected him..

“.. oh yes I am. I am their maid.. their cook.. their chauffeer :: or however you spell it.. you get the idea :: .. they come to me when they want clothes.. or a ride somewhere.. or whatever. THAT’S when they come to me.. other then that? Fuck me.. right guys?”

Chief looked hurt. He started to say that he doesn’t think of me that way but I cut him off. Don’t you? I asked. Really? Because if you didn’t then why does the house look like the house does when I’m not the one doing everything that I do?

I knew that he was going to bring up cleaning the house on Sunday but I cut him off.. because, yknow, I smarter then he is.

I said, “.. and don’t even bring up Sunday because when was the last time you did that? Six? Eight MONTHS ago?”

He had the good idea to not try to defend himself because he knew I was right and at one point, all three of them put their heads down.

Great.. I said.. between the 12 year old.. 16 year old and 43 year old.. I’d be better off with infants.

So I said my piece and Chief lightened things up like he always does by changing the subject and saying something funny about the cats or the dogs or the fish or whatever.

And then I just had to let it go.. because harboring stuff isn’t going to make things better only make me crazy and I think.. I THINK.. I just might be crazy enough!

.. and no, this post in no way.. shape.. or form is referring to my girl Jen512’s blog SNARK POOL .. which is an uber-cool blog, btw so you really should check it out.

Hi Jen!!

Anyway.. no.. this has to do with the fact that if you’re going to be a dick, then I’m going to be one right back. Believe me, you don’t want me to reveal my Dick-dom… especially if you sleep next to me in the same bed.

dah DUM.. dAH DUM..

Ok.. so we had a LOOOONNNNGGGG day at the shop. Between a huge catering order that had to be made and delivered by 6:30p .. me getting into a fist fight and it being 104 degrees outside and the usual bullshit of operating a deli, I couldn’t wait for the damn day to be over with.

So we finally get home and unwinding in the igloo that is our bedroom when Spaz knocks on the door and asks Chief to tell Bubba to give him a turn on the computer.

Let me just state here that Bubba decided to grace us with his presence. He hasn’t been home for a week and was gone for two weeks prior to that so yknow.. he treats this house like it’s a pit stop.

So Chief gets up and goes out to the dining room where the computer is.. I hear him saying something but I’m all up into last week’s episode of Dr. Who to pay attention to what he’s saying.

I’m beyond this whole thing anyway so I really don’t care.

But then I heard Spaz yelling or stomping or yelling and stopping and then Chief comes into the bedroom.

He tells me that Spaz had said that Bubba was on the computer for six hours but that Bubba actually had come home at 5:30. So he told Bubba he could stay on until 9pm and then Spaz can get on it from 9 to 11.And then Bubba can go back on.  He told me that Spaz was .. well.. spazzing out saying that “.. that’s only 2 hours!! That’s not fair!”

I looked at Chief.. all proud of himself for “handling” the situation.. and said deadpan “It isn’t.”

How is Bubba being on the computer for 3.5 hours.. giving it up for 2 hours.. then Bubba being on it for the rest of the damn night into the late morning fair? And beside.. Bubba is gone for three weeks and then he decides to come home and he’s running the show? Do you see what’s wrong with this picture?

I could see his little brain cells trying to spin this and finally said that what Bubba didn’t know is that he’s going to make him turn off the computer at midnight.

I rolled my eyes because him and I both know he was going to be hanging out with Mr. Sandman in about 15 minutes.

He said, “.. what I should do is just smash the fucking thing and then that would solve the whole problem”

I told him.. matter of factly.. that that’s what my father used to do with me and my brother. We argued over something and he would smash what ever we were arguing about. He said, “.. I never met him but I respect him.”

And I was all like.. yea.. cause THAT’S the right way to teach your kids how to share.. how to problem solve.. how to resolve situations right Bucky? ‘Cause breaking it only means that you’ll be buying a new one the next day even though we can’t afford it because you’ll feel sorry for them.

Then like.. this light bulb went off in his head. Oh! I know how to deflect the situation off of me!! He looks at me and says, “.. did I touch a nerve?” AND THEN .. AND THEN said in the goofy sing-songy voice that goes right into my spine like a spinal tap “.. whats a matter? Did he break your Barbie record player?”

And when I tell you that in an INSTANT my Sinister Sister took over my being and I looked at him with the smirky face and glinty eyes and said, “.. at least my father didn’t beat me with bicycle chains.”

And OMG! you should have seen the look on his face. He just turned white and said quietly, ” yea, my father did beat me with bicycle chains.”

I got up off the bed .. not even wanting to look at him anymore because Sinister Sister knows he’s just pathetic as a father.. and said, “.. yknow.. we were raised too different ways. YOU have to decide which way you’re going to raise your kids because right now, you have no fucking clue what you’re doing because you don’t have any good examples to draw on.”

He was like, “.. yea, my parents sucked, ok?”

And I was like, “.. yea, well, my parents didn’t. And you can make fun of it, but the bottom line is they raised me right. I may not have liked all the discipline, towing the line and structure growing up but guess what Bucky.. they did a better job then yours did.”

He said, “.. I didn’t know there was some deep seated thing going on.”

I said there wasn’t. I didn’t even play with Barbie dolls.. he was just being a dick so I was being a dick back.

I still wasn’t looking at him at this point and started getting my shit together to take a shower. He hates when I don’t look at him or ignores him or whatever so then he says, “.. you know, it’s getting to a point where I’m just going to punch him and asks him how it feels to get beat on.”

It took me a minute to realize he meant his father and not his kid. And THAT truly disgusted me. I realize that there’s a lot of residual animosity but really?  REALLY?

So I grab my towels out of the closet and say to him, “.. yknow, the more I get to know you the more I don’t know who you are. And really, you need to deal with what’s sitting in the living room instead of resolving something that happened 30 years ago.”

He started to say something and I was like, “.. yknow what? They’re YOUR kids.. fuck them up anyway you want to so maybe in 30 years, they’ll punch you in the face.”

I walked out of the room and took a shower.

I can’t force him to be the kind of father he needs to be.. I can’t be the one who raises them.. they were fucked when I showed up and no good intentions are going to un-fuck them up so they’re his problem .. not  mine. Right now, he just disgusts me.