Posts Tagged ‘Slobs’

The other night when Chief and I were walking the dogs, I happened to look up at Weed’s window on the second floor and saw some kind of sheet or curtain half hanging off .. it’s one of those two windows right next to the other kind of deals so whatever was hanging was hanging half of the left one  like it was just stuck on a nail.

If there’s ONE thing I CANNOT tolerate it’s Ghetto Window Treatments.

I mean, I’ve actually moved one time when the neighbor across the street was tying their curtains in a know instead of investing $1.50 in a freakin’ bracket set.

So when I saw that, I pointed at it and said to Chief, “.. WHAT the HELL is THAT!!” .. and not in a questioning kind of way .. if you know what I mean.

Chief understand far to well my obsession with Ghetto Window Treatments so he called up to Weed and told him to take it down. Weed does and I tell him that I have curtains for him to hang up there.

Mind you, this room was empty prior to Weed moving back in here and I had taken the curtains down to wash and iron when I had cleaned the room many many months before.

At any rate ..

We go into the house.. I get the curtains.. and I tell Chief that he’s coming upstairs with me. He’s reluctant .. and I know why. He know I  know why but if I had to carry him up there myself, I would have.

The room is a disaster .. and not just by MY standards .. clean clothes all over the place .. dirty clothes all over the place.. soda bottles.. dishes.. food wrappers.. cutlery .. glasses.. cups ..


I told Weed that THIS wasn’t going to be ROOM NUMBER THREE that he trashes in this house .. and the only reason why he was even here in the first place is because we THOUGHT we were moving and now that we’re NOT.. he’s always going to be thisclose to being thrown out on his simple, non-working ass.

Chief tells him to get a trash bag.. I tell him that there’s an empty closet with a universe full of hangers and two.. COUNT THEM.. two empty dressers for his clothes.

Get to it.. and get to it NOW.

I hang the curtains while he’s picking up the shit and then I go downstairs to do what I had planned to do .. dye my hair and take a shower.

When I was finished, I went into the bedroom and asked Chief if Weed had finished cleaning his room. He said he had. Taken out his trash? Yep. Brought down his dirty clothes? Yep.

Why.. oh.. why did I believe this man?

The following day, a Saturday, I take the dogs out for their morning walk and one of the trash cans had fallen over in front of the back steps.

An empty trash can.


I check the second trash can.


Double Hmmmm…

Trash pick up was Friday morning .. Weed was suppose to have cleaned his room Friday night .. so.. um.. where exactly was his trash bag?

So after Chief gets up that morning, I ask him again. “Weed cleaned his room, right?” .. Uh-huh. “So.. um.. where did he put his trash?”.. Outside in the can? “Hmm.. because the trash cans are empty” .. Well, the trash came. “Yea.. right.. that whole thing with Weed? That was Friday night.. not Thursday night.”

He started to wimper .. I donnnn’t knnnowww… I saw him take a trash bag down ..

So at this point, I know he’s lying and I decide to wait until I can go upstairs while Weed and Chief are occupied.

Because I know what I’m going to find.

That came yesterday afternoon .. Chief had to drive Weed somewhere and while I was gone I went upstairs and sure enough all the clothes are piled where they were piled and the trash bag, half full, is sitting in the middle of the floor.

When Chief came home, without Weed, I told him about the room.

His response?

I told Weed to clean his room because you were going to go up there!! I told him that if he didn’t I was going to here it and I know all about how things trickle down!!

He was like.. what? Almost giddy that he was right? Like, he had gotten the right answer on Double Jeopardy after wagering his whole pot?

And I looked at him like he was the simple assed inept mother fucker that he is.

Because it shouldn’t have Leese is going to check.. or Leese wants you to do it.. or you better do it before Leese starts on ME about it ..


I couldn’t even say anything to him.. I had to walk away and go OUT of my way not to be in the same room with him because there’s no telling what was going to come out of my mouth.

I had to mull things over .. had to digest the situation more then I’ve been.. and the bottom line is that it’s not 2 against 3 in this house.. it’s 1 against 4.

In this house.. and to everyone beside me that lives in this house, I am a joke.

And Weed’s room is still not clean …


… so after moving over the posts from my old blog to this one :: click on the Old Blog tag in the cloud on the left :: I came upon this little gem from Nov 11, 2008.

And it made me sad.

There’s a lot of buzzing going around in my head that I’m trying to figure out.. reading my old stuff made me start thinking that something has to change.

For good.. or for bad.. it has to change.

You can read it HERE if you’re bored.. or can’t sleep..

.. 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!

.. I say this because the last time I went on a rant about I vented about my douchebag husband and his blobs of DNA swamp pool spawn, I got a finger wagging and a  lecture from some one :: sorry, Dude.. don’t remember your name and really don’t feel like looking it up :: who said that I was “having a bad day” and taking it out on Chief .. that I was “.. beating him up over his kids” .. that I “.. beat him up for not have good parents” and that I don’t talk to him in the manner I should.

No.. this isn't me. Although I think she might be pretty cute if she wasn't so frustrated!!

So Mr. Why-Don’t-Read-Delve-Alittle-Further-Before-Berating-Me .. you might not want to read any further.


So lets back up to last night.

All day yesterday I’ve been chest issues. There was a pain in the center of my chest and it felt like I was having a hard time breathing. It may just be the after math of jumping over the counter last week because believe me.. there’s been aches and pains in places where I haven’t had aches and pains before. Remember.. I’m not as young as I used to be!

So the big question of the day was what were we going to have for dinner. It’s ALWAYS the big question of the day but since it’s been soooo fucking hot and humid where I live, I wasn’t looking forward to turning on the oven or standing in front of the stove. So he decided we’d hit a drive through.

After we closed the store and got into the car, it NOW became the debate of WHICH drive through to go to. I told him I didn’t care because I really didn’t feel like eating anyway.

He HATES when I don’t eat. HATES IT. Like.. he’s my grandmother reincarnated. I told him that I really didn’t feel good.. really shouldn’t even have been driving and just wanted to go home and go to sleep. He asked me if I wanted to go to the doctors, to which I replied he could make an appointment for me when I’m dead.

The usual banter.

So we wound up at Burger King and after ordering value meals for them, I decided to just get a mini burger in case I got hungry later. I hadn’t eaten anything all day and figured that once I wake up feeling better I may have an appetite. So we get everything and we get home and as soon as  I come through the back door and see all the crap in the sink and all the stuff left out on the counters when it should have been in the fridge and all the crumbs and the over flowing trash can.. I walk into the dining room where Bubba was on the computer and Spaz was on the couch and said, “… nobody’s eating until the kitchen it cleaned the way it’s suppose to be.”

Chief was like, “.. yea! What’s this about? Get off your asses and clean up your mess! How many times have I told you to pick up after yourselves…” blah blah blah blah blah.

So Bubba get up and goes into the kitchen and Spaz comes running up to me saying that he told Bubba to do his dishes.. blah blah blah blah blah.

We finally sit at the table..


Back up..

Earlier when I doing Weed’s laundry, Bubba had gotten up at 4pm and immediately him and Spaz started arguing over the computer. It was a good thing that I had to bring Weed his clothes then or else I think I would have knifed them both.

Not pretty. But real, none the less.

So when we got back to the house, I figured since both of them were home that Chief needed to address the fighting over the computer issue which is why I sat at the table instead of going to bed.

I should have went to bed.

Trust on that.

We’re sitting there and after Chief asks me why I only got a mini burger and after me telling him because my chest really, really hurts.. I say, “.. we need to have a conversation about the computer and all the fighting that’s going on about because truthfully, I can’t take it anymore.”

Chief was like, “.. yea.. no body is allowed on the computer for more then two hours at a time.”

And then Bubba said something about not liking mayo or steak sauce or something and Spaz said that he liked mayo and Chief just went right down that road discussing the pros and cons of various condiments.

So yea.. nothing accomplished there.

I got done eating half a mini burger.. gave the other half to the dogs.. and when I went into the bedroom I had forgotten that I had started sorting the our laundry earlier. So I got up.. went down the basement.. got the extra laundry hamper.. came back upstairs.. put the whites in one and the darks in the other..

Chief asked me if I was doing laundry now and I told him.. no, my chest is hurting.

As I dragged the hampers out into the dining room, Bubba was playing with Ernie the Terrorist Puppy and he asked me if I saw the sore on his back. When I went to look, I saw what  must have been four or five fleas.

Now I had given both dogs flea baths and used Frontline on them not even a month ago so I was a little put off about that. But seeing the sore on the dogs back, I couldn’t not just let that go.

So I tell Chief that the dogs are going to have to be bathed. He said he would take the out so that Ernie would be on the leash since I had to wash them in the tub and there was NO. WAY. IN. HELL. that Ernie was getting anywhere NEAR the tub.. he dives under the bed whenever you pick up a spray bottle.

Any spray bottle.

So while he’s outside with the dogs, I get the spray thing for the tub faucet and the flea stuff and the towel. He brings Ernie into the bathroom, I lift him up into the tub and start shampooing him. Chief says he’ll be right back and hands me the leash.

Now.. what the FUCK am I suppose to do with that? My hands are all soapy and sudsy and I can’t continue to wash him and told the leash at the same time so I call for Spaz and tell him to hold the leash.

Spaz is talking a mile a minute asking asinine question after asinine question and answering them himself.

I just drowned him out and continued doing what I was doing. But when I finished, my back was killing me .. my chest was hurting more and I knew that there was NO way in hell that I was going to be able to wash Bella in the tub. She’s too big a gal and I wasn’t going to be able to lift her in.. lift her out.. OR manage washing everything on her that needed to be washed.

She’s like a baby seal.

So after Ernie is all finished and running around the house like the Crack Whore on speed, I go into the bedroom and there’s Chief, sitting on the bed playing on the PS3.

You’re kidding me, right?

That important?


So I tell him that I’m going to have to wash Bella outside in the kiddie pool because I can’t lift her into the tub.

No response.

I say it again.. no response.

Mind you, I’m about two feet away from him.

Mind you, he played PS3 ALL. FUCKING. DAY at the store.

So finally  I was like CHIEF!!!!!!!!!!!

He was like, “.. oh. I’m sorry. What did you say?”

So I told him again and he was like, “ok.”

So I was like, “… you going to help me or what?”

“… oh yea.. yea.. I’ll help you. Just get everything ready.”

I bit my tongue and went down the basement.. connected the hose to the laundry tub sink.. ran the house up the steps and outside.. got the kiddie pool set up.. get the towel .. got the shampoo.. got BELLA.. and waited.

And waited.

While I was waiting, I checked Bella for fleas and OMG did she have them. She has a really, really think undercoat and long Lassie-like hair that I cut back when it gets warm. There always one spot on the back right about her tail that is always balding so when I checked her and saw soooo many fleas, I was literally at a loss. Meanwhile, the mosquitos started hitting so I go in the house and went into the bedroom to see what’s holding Chief up and he’s STILL playing PS3 AND he even started another 10 minutes round.

I was like, “… what are you doing?”

He said, “.. I’m just playing this match”

I said, “.. you were just playing a match before when I came in”

He said, “.. I know but it sucked so I started another one.”

And then he called for Spaz to help me because.. yknow.. playing Call of Duty is SO MUCH MORE important then helping me, right?

Silly fool I am.

So me and Spaz are outside and I’m trying to direct him in actually helping me but he just wants to play with the hose. I literally go in the pool with the dog and sat in the water in order to do what I had to do to get the fleas off her. And then he slapped a mosquito off his leg and said, “.. ok. I’m going in.” and left.

Now.. not only is my chest hurting but add on top of it the frustration.. the anger.. and all the other rainbow of emotions that were going on and I was literally  just on the verge of a breakdown.

I finally get the dog washed and dried off.. go back into the house.. put the hose away.. put the clothes that had been in the washer in the dryer.. put all the dog stuff away.. wash the glasses and utensils that were STILL in the sink :: because LORD KNOWS when you say “.. do the dishes” they only DO THE DISHES :: .. clean up the shit that was still on the dining room table.. go into the bedroom where Chief finally turned off the PS3 but was all engrossed in Bill O’Reilly… changed out of my wet clothes.. then went into the bathroom and scrubbed the tub.

When I was finished.. I went back in the bedroom and said to him, ”.. yknow if I didn’t do anything because it was hard.. or boring.. or because I just don’t want to do it, nothing in this fucking house would get done”

HE said, “.. what did Spaz not help you?”

And I said, “.. YOU didn’t help me. HE didn’t help me. NOBODY helps me’

And with that he clammed up with nothing to say.. put on the History Channel and I just got in bed went to sleep.

This morning he wakes me up at 630am because I have to drive Weed all the way back to the rehab place because he forgot to take home his wallet and GOD FORBID if he didn’t have his ID to buy booze. And I had to go early because.. omg! Can’t leave Chief out on a limb, right?

He goes out into the kitchen and I hear him say, ”.. you’re kidding, right? You’re kidding me, right?”

Because at 630am, Bubba was still up from the night before on the computer. I don’t know what Bubba said but Chief didn’t say anything else and as I got dressed and was walking out of the bedroom I reminded Chief that it was trash day. He takes the bag from the trash can and calls for Bubba.

Who doesn’t answer.

He YELLS for Bubba.

Who doesn’t answer.

He SCREAMS for Bubba .. who doesn’t answer because he has headphones on. Chief goes out into the dining room and tells Bubba to put a trash bag in the trashcan.

Now, I’m still hurting from last night. Emotionally more then anything so I’m not my usual giddy self and was thankful that I had to drive an hour or so up and back with Weed because I really didn’t want to be around Chief so much. But this afternoon, around 3, we’re sitting in the back of the store and Chief says to me, “.. I know you were upset last night but honestly, I started to not feel good around dinner.”

I just said, “.. I didn’t feel good either.

He was like, “.. I’m sorry.” But not in the remorseful way.. more in the snarky way?

End of conversation.

Of course.

So I leave the store and have to stop at the supermarket to get something for dinner and when I got back.. a replay of what I found last night in the kitchen was before me.

Dishes.. crumbs.. butter left out.. you name it.

So I said something like, “.. you got to be fucking kidding me” and Spaz heard me and came into the kitchen trying to maneuver between me and the sink.

I asked him what he was doing and he was like, “.. oh, I want to help you.”

And I was like, “.. No. You’re not going to come in here at 5 o’clock to “help” me when you had all damn day to “help me” but you didn’t want to then so don’t think you’re going to do it now and act like you’re all great and wonderful because let me tell you Bucky, you’re not.”

I think I might have told him to just leave me alone.

And you know what? I don’t feel one little iota of guilt about it either.

He leaves but then comes back a few minutes later to tell me that the reason why he slept out in the living room was because HIS room is FULL OF FLEAS.



So I said, ‘.. how could YOUR room be filled with fleas when the dogs aren’t even IN your room but they SLEEP in my room.. SLEEP IN MY BED and OUR room ISN’T FULL OF FLEAS?”

He couldn’t answer that because it wasn’t true. Because if his room was full of fleas, he would have been yelling, screaming and hollaring the night before because he yells, screams and hollars about EVERYTHING that bothers him.

And while I’m washing the dishes and scrubbing the counter, Bubba comes in and says that their room IS full of fleas.. at least TEN.. and I told him the same thing AND asked him why he didn’t put the trash bag in the trash can like his father asked him to and he said he didn’t hear him.. he said that Chief told him to do the dishes and I wearily said, No.. he did not.. but even IF he did.. YOU STILL DIDN”T DO THE DISHES.

He walks out of the kitchen because there’s nothing he can say either and so I continue to clean their mess and when I got to the stove where there was dried up egg and melted cheese and bits of ham all over it AND the wall.. I went to move a pot that’s been sitting on the back burner with a little frying pan on top of it :: I have limited space for my pots and pans :: and..



Because in that pot that’s been sitting on the back burner for a few weeks because I haven’t been cooking the way I normally so because it’s been ungodly hot and humid .. was a ring of sausage that Chief started to cook a few Sundays ago. Apparently, he finished boiling it.. changed his mind on what he was going to do with it.. and put the little frying pan on top of it as a lid.. and forgot about it.

The STENCH alone was vomit inducing.

The maggots.. well, I won’t tell you what happened when I saw the maggots.

Yes. You read that right.

And believe me.. I am so mortally embarrassed to have to even write that. I am mortified that I have to tell ANY of this but THIS is what I’m dealing with.. THIS is what I have to put up with.. THIS is what Mr. Berate Me For Not Being More Sympathetic To The Douche Bag needs to know.

So I call Chief up.

“.. remember that sausage you made a while ago?”


“.. do you know what happened to it?”

“um…. silence… silence.. silence.. oh.”

So I tell him that you thought not having a trash bag in the trash can like you told your son to do this morning is bad? You think all the dishes and shit on the counter is bad? Yea.. nothing compares to a pot full of maggots.

He kept saying “I’m sorry” and when I didn’t respond.. I mean, really.. how are you suppose to respond to that???? .. he was did the PLEADING Im sorry.

When I told him that I had to hang up and de-stench-ify the kitchen, he had the BALLS to ask what was for dinner.

I told him whatever I could cook that didn’t make me want to throw the fuck up in the process.

So right now I’m SO WAY BEYOND pissed and I know how I am when I get like this and I really should just get up and go out until he’s asleep because this is not going to be pretty.

At all.


So before my laptop took a dive off the radiator, there was some intense drama regarding Bubba.. his dirty clothes and Chief’s reaction to Bubba’s lack of clean clothes.

If you have this insatiable desire to grind you teeth, read about it HERE

Picking up where I left off..

So Bubba didn’t go to school that day so there was no need for me to stop at the shop until after I took Spaz to school.

When I finally got to the shop, I walked in and started making a cup of coffee. I asked Chief if he had made a list for the wholesaler because I was going to leave as soon as I fixed my coffee.

He said he hadn’t and started writing one.

He then said, “.. You know, I’m not pissed at you. I’m pissed at Bubba”

I shrugged and said, “.. you have absolutely no reason to be pissed at me.”

He said that he had a solution to the problem.. that we were going to get a washer and dryer THAT DAY and he was going to hook it up on the back porch THAT DAY because.. yknow.. HE knew that there was NO WAY IN HELL that I was going to go to the laundromat to do Bubba’s cloths.

He also said that he felt guilty because he hadn’t gotten the washer and dryer before.. cuz if he did, his simple mind thought that that would have circumvented the whole ordeal.

Now.. I have to tell you that I am usually a yeller.. or a screamer.. or a hollar.. or just a very passionate Italian .. depends on if I’m screaming at your or not I guess. However, when I get to the point where shit just don’t matter anymore, I don’t waste the energy. I just get real matter-of-fact and my voice and demeanor remain calm and cool.

So in response, I just said, “.. do whatever you need to do”


But I didn’t say that. That would have been an emotional response and I wasn’t about to be emotional.

He tried to scramble to make himself become a bright star in my eyes but it wasn’t happening.

So I told him the following:

That not putting clothes in the hamper is nothing new and even with working washer and dryer, I’m still not going to chase anybody around for their clothes.

That I’m done with being taken for granted.. done with being unappreciated.. done with being disrespected and told “Fuck You”.

That I’m done with Bubba uses me as the excuse to do what he wants to do like not coming home after school and rolling in around curfew time.

That I came in to this relationship thinking it was one way and obviously he thinks its something very different and I’m done with trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.

That even though he thinks that my cutting has nothing to do with him.. it has everything to do with him. That I cannot talk to him because he doesn’t deal well with emotions or feelings and because I can’t when I need to, it gets all backed up and manifests itself at the end of a sharp object.

That even though his suggestion of switching shifts with me so he was home with his kids after school was a noble suggestion, he’s just as much a pig as they are and just how pissed off would he think I’d be if I closed the shop and came home to find the house messier then I left it because he didn’t do anything to clean it up before I got home.

That I lowered myself and my standards to be in this relationship and bent as far as I could bend for THEM but they went on with life as usual and no one could give a shit about doing things that they KNOW would make me happier and my life easier… like washing their dishes, not pissing on the floor, not leaving their clothes everywhere EXCEPT the hamper. But nope. They don’t care.

I believe I said some other things but those are the highlights.

He didn’t say anything at first, but then he started to flake about hearing that Bubba has said “Fuck You” to me.

He wanted to know why I didn’t tell him. And I told him.. honestly.. that he wouldn’t do anything about it .. he never does anything about anything and I’m tired of trying to tell him things that he doesn’t do anything about. I also told him that when I try to tell him something that he does not want to hear EVERYTHING is a diversion .. the tv.. the dogs.. a leaf blowing down the street. So really, why bother?

He was like , “.. but that’s unacceptable”

And I was like, words are words. It’s not so much the “FUCK YOU” it’s the whole attitude.

He said that he wants me to be happy. That he worries about me being happy.

I told him that I believed that he meant that but he doesn’t know how to make me happy. That I don’t think he’s capable of it because as time went on, he turned out to not be the man I thought he was. In fact, I told him.. I don’t think he’s a man at all. He’s just someone who doesn’t want the responsibility of raising his kids the right way so he farms it off on whatever woman he’s with so that he can claim clean hands when they fuck up.

He was speechless.. to say the least. He walked into the kitchen of the shop and then asked me what I was going to do.

I told him that I was going to go buy a washer and dryer and then he was going to Home Depot to get what he needed to hook it up on the back porch.

He said that he meant about our relationship and I told him that I didn’t think we really HAD a relationship and that for now, I was just going to do what I needed to do to survive what I needed to survive until I can get to a place where I can make my life better.

He didn’t know how to take it.. because he didn’t want to know how to take it but once Weed came into work, we went and got the washer and dryer but the cost of everything he needed at Home Depot was WAY more then I wanted to spend so I just told him to bag it and but them down the basement where the other ones where.

So we put everything back and only bought what was needed to move the 220 line to other side of the basement so the machines could be next to each other and to install a 110 line for the washer instead of keeping it plugged into the freakin light bulb.

I mean.. really.. how ghetto was that???

So I dropped him off at the house and as I was driving back to the shop to work with Weed, guess who I see walking down the street with one of his friends? Wearing CLOTHES?

yep.. Bubba.

Now.. as we sat at the red light before I dropped Chief off at the house, I said to Chief “.. you know, considering that Bubba has gone to school wearing the same clothes for a week and doesn’t take showers you really think his issue was not having clean clothes or that his report card came out today? Because.. he does have clean clothes.. he just doesn’t put them away and just throws them on the floor when I put them on his bed”

He.. again.. didn’t say anything for a minute or two and then said quietly, “.. the report card”.

I just said, “uh huh”

So when I see Bubba walking down the street with his friend, I call Chief.

Spaz answered and said that Chief had taken the dogs out so I tell him to have him call me as soon as he gets back in the house.

When Chief calls me back, I tell him that Bubba is out with his friends. He says, “.. oh really?” and I was like, Did you NOT know that he wasn’t in the house? He said that when he first walked in the house he never got past the front porch because he dogs needed to go out.

So I tell him that if he wants to continue being treated like an asshole by his kid then that’s his problem but I’m not going to subject myself to it anymore. I learned to love them and I learned to UNlove him and I couldn’t care less what he thought about it.

He was all torqued that Bubba was outside and told me that he was going to do this.. and that.. and tell him this.. and tell him that.. and I was just like, “whatever”. Because I know he doesn’t have it in him to be the father that these kids need and I’m not getting myself all upset over it.

As I told him .. these aren’t my kids and they’re not a reflection on me.

And so.. since that day, I’ve done a million loads of laundry :: none of them Bubba’s :: .. and I have no dealings with him at all. I don’t talk to him.. don’t ask him for anything.. just basically ignore him and live like he doesn’t live here.

Spaz started to tell me things that Bubba has said about me and I stopped him before he started and told him that I didn’t want to hear it. He told me that it makes him upset to hear it and I told him that if I wasn’t upset, then he shouldn’t be. I told him that it’s a good life lesson to learn not to let people change your mood or get you angry.. just brush it off your shoulder.

I told him that I had to learn that the hard way and Bubba wasn’t someone that cared about enough to care about what he said about me. I also told him that anything that has to do with Bubba he needs to address with his father. He is their parent.. and I’m not.

And so life goes on …

Currently, I’m down sizing my expenses so that I can save money to move on because I highly doubt that things are going to change enough to make me want to stay.

End of drama