(Finally) Freakin' Friday
Another Friday night, another football game. This one considerably longer because it's in a rural suburb. I guess not even really a suburb, because it's a good half-hour outside the KC proper city limits. The bottom line--Ben's been gone since not quite 5:30, and won't likely be home til around 11:00. (I hope I make it that long. I'm fucking exhausted, which is why I haven't started drinking yet, because I'm afraid one bourbon & diet would have me passed out on the couch midway through my Tivo'd Scrubs.)
It's been another rockin' Friday night at the old Green house. After Ben left, I told Bob to get his shoes and socks on and we'd go get McDinner.
And he starts having a shit fit.
I ignored him and eventually, the socks and shoes were on and we were off. I somehow talked him into going to Target first (DAMN we're an exciting bunch), where I picked up a couple more of those great long-sleeve v-neck t-shirts I've discovered ($8.99!), a pair of jeans in a size better suited for my ever-widening gut (though not much), shoes for myself and the Bob, Bob jeans (no 4 slim, so I settled for 4 regular and hope to hell the "adjustable waist" is adjustable enough), Bob underwear (preschoolers in boxer briefs are a hilarious sight), and my yearly supply of (fake) silver hoop earrings, 3 sizes. Then it was to the McFuckup's drive-thru, where they only fucked up our order by selecting the wrong gender for Bob's Happy Meal toy.
"They gave me a girl toy."
Oh, it can't be that bad, can it?
"It's make up."
Oh--it can be that bad.
"You should have told them I'm a boy."
I did.
"Oh--then they should have been listening."
Damn skippy. This is why I want you to do good at school and learn a lot so you won't be dumb when you grow up and have to work at McMoron's.
He actually did do well at school today--Ben picked him up around 3:00 and he still had 9 pennies in his jar out of the 10 he started the day with. Fuck me. So Ben took him to Party America to buy stickers to put on the calendar to commemorate his 5+ penny days.
Is it the drugs, or just yet another of his mind-boggling cycles?
I have no freakin' clue. Guess we'll find out tomorrow. And next week.
In a fit of paralegal-ness today, I decided to try to find db-mails that clearly contradicted (in writing) the claims made in his counter-motion to modify. So I read through that wad of ass wipe again. Initially, I'd read Paragraph H as he believes Bob's mental and physical health is an issue. Upon closer (and more clear-headed) reading, I realized it reads he believes Petitioner's mental and physical health is an issue. I.e., ME.
Now I'm fucking pissed.
First of all, his beliefs about my "mental health" are limited to his continuous and ongoing claim that I am "bipolar" because I was prescribed Effexor during the last 6 months I was with his sorry ass. And while I eventually weaned myself from that medication because (a) the side effects were a bit much and (b) it had given me the testicular fortitude to leave his sorry ass, I was never diagnosed as "bipolar."
And I have no idea how he thinks he knows so much about my medical chart now. Unless he's (a) somehow found this blog or (b) really was hacking into my email last month as I suspected when I got paranoid and changed my password. Which would mean he knows I (a) am taking anti-anxiety meds and a sleeping pill, and (b) I had an abnormal pap smear in January.
Big fucking deal. I think what I've been through over the past year is enough to make anyone want anti-anxiety meds. And I've no shame for the sleeping pills--I've never been able to sleep well, not even as a kid, and being able to get at least 6 hours of good solid shut-eye a night has been a dream come true. And if having an abnormal pap smear means you're unhealthy, well, there are a helluva lot of unhealthy women out there.
So, db, if you're reading this (and if you are, allow me to apologize for all the big multi-syllabic words), go fuck yourself. I am perfectly healthy in both mind and body. And soul--which, being a piece of white trash redneck shit, you will never possess.
Put that in your bong and smoke it.
It's been another rockin' Friday night at the old Green house. After Ben left, I told Bob to get his shoes and socks on and we'd go get McDinner.
And he starts having a shit fit.
I ignored him and eventually, the socks and shoes were on and we were off. I somehow talked him into going to Target first (DAMN we're an exciting bunch), where I picked up a couple more of those great long-sleeve v-neck t-shirts I've discovered ($8.99!), a pair of jeans in a size better suited for my ever-widening gut (though not much), shoes for myself and the Bob, Bob jeans (no 4 slim, so I settled for 4 regular and hope to hell the "adjustable waist" is adjustable enough), Bob underwear (preschoolers in boxer briefs are a hilarious sight), and my yearly supply of (fake) silver hoop earrings, 3 sizes. Then it was to the McFuckup's drive-thru, where they only fucked up our order by selecting the wrong gender for Bob's Happy Meal toy.
"They gave me a girl toy."
Oh, it can't be that bad, can it?
"It's make up."
Oh--it can be that bad.
"You should have told them I'm a boy."
I did.
"Oh--then they should have been listening."
Damn skippy. This is why I want you to do good at school and learn a lot so you won't be dumb when you grow up and have to work at McMoron's.
He actually did do well at school today--Ben picked him up around 3:00 and he still had 9 pennies in his jar out of the 10 he started the day with. Fuck me. So Ben took him to Party America to buy stickers to put on the calendar to commemorate his 5+ penny days.
Is it the drugs, or just yet another of his mind-boggling cycles?
I have no freakin' clue. Guess we'll find out tomorrow. And next week.
In a fit of paralegal-ness today, I decided to try to find db-mails that clearly contradicted (in writing) the claims made in his counter-motion to modify. So I read through that wad of ass wipe again. Initially, I'd read Paragraph H as he believes Bob's mental and physical health is an issue. Upon closer (and more clear-headed) reading, I realized it reads he believes Petitioner's mental and physical health is an issue. I.e., ME.
Now I'm fucking pissed.
First of all, his beliefs about my "mental health" are limited to his continuous and ongoing claim that I am "bipolar" because I was prescribed Effexor during the last 6 months I was with his sorry ass. And while I eventually weaned myself from that medication because (a) the side effects were a bit much and (b) it had given me the testicular fortitude to leave his sorry ass, I was never diagnosed as "bipolar."
And I have no idea how he thinks he knows so much about my medical chart now. Unless he's (a) somehow found this blog or (b) really was hacking into my email last month as I suspected when I got paranoid and changed my password. Which would mean he knows I (a) am taking anti-anxiety meds and a sleeping pill, and (b) I had an abnormal pap smear in January.
Big fucking deal. I think what I've been through over the past year is enough to make anyone want anti-anxiety meds. And I've no shame for the sleeping pills--I've never been able to sleep well, not even as a kid, and being able to get at least 6 hours of good solid shut-eye a night has been a dream come true. And if having an abnormal pap smear means you're unhealthy, well, there are a helluva lot of unhealthy women out there.
So, db, if you're reading this (and if you are, allow me to apologize for all the big multi-syllabic words), go fuck yourself. I am perfectly healthy in both mind and body. And soul--which, being a piece of white trash redneck shit, you will never possess.
Put that in your bong and smoke it.
posted by Mitzi Green at 8:54 PM
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