starting over new

Ok, it's been awhile. traumatic things have been happening. Ehhh, what's new? Every time I sit down to write, the numerous comments roll through my head about "how negative & cranky" I've been. In an attempt to not sound grouchy, I just didn't write. I've come to the conclusion that this is my life. Cranky, grouchy, tired, absolutely insane: it's MINE. So I'm going to write about it, mostly 'cuz it makes me feel better to get my thoughts out.

My oldest two kids have been in KY with their Aunt Candi since June 14th. While I don't see eye to eye with Candi on almost anything anymore, the kids have a great time with her & she takes good care of them.

Thursday morning I get a phone call from the owner of the bar that I was working at, to tell me that I was no longer "needed". It's summer and there are young, hot college girls wanting to make some easy money before going back to school for the fall. Therefore, my nine months of hard work, being the only waitress that stuck it out for the winter, working open to close six days a week, counts for abso-fucking-lutely NADA. I'm discarded for my age and over weight status. N.I.C.E.

My living arrangement with the kid's father was only tolerable because I was gone at night, when he was home, and he was gone during the day, while I was home. Granted, I love this man, against every common sense fiber in my body, I always will. But he has the innate ability to make me want to become the worst of people. The things I contemplate doing to myself when I'm forced to tolerate his almighty-pity-me-because-I-am-trying-so-hard-but-life-is-overwhelmingly-complicated whining and attitude, well, I can't even explain here without having every friend I've ever met come scoop me up and deposit me in the Parkview Behavioral Health Department ASAP.

I've spent Thursday, Friday, & Saturday with this man at work during the day and only home with me for a short time in the evening before I manage to scoot out of the house for a small bit of time lest I pull my hair out in raging fits. Sunday we both slept until noon. He left the house right after he awoke to run some errands and arrived back home a lil after 1:30. We had planned a bike ride together for some fresh air and exercise. Within ten minutes of him arriving home, I was reading to strangle, it didn't matter if it was going to be him or I, one of us had to shut the hell up. I gave in, shut the bedroom door and laid on the bed for 30 minutes. Finally I emerged and sat on the couch while he played video games.

Within an hour he decided it was time to start the petty lil arguments and see just how far he could push me. I tolerated it for as long as possible, rotating between blatantly ignoring him & snapping back comments when I couldn't resist. That last all of two nano seconds before I packed an overnight bag and headed out leaving him with strict instructions to LEAVE ME ALONE.

I haven't driven my car in weeks. Not only does it save me money, I'm trying to get this fat ass into shape by walking & biking everywhere I go. Today it's raining, so I head for the car.

My tags are expired by twenty-something days. I gave Jere $90 last month to get tags on his truck, which he has yet to repay. I realized, as I'm mulling the situation over in my head, that the bureau is closed on Mondays. And, I'll need my insurance card to take along which I casually noticed a CANCELLATION notice for our policy in Jere's papers last week. It was his month to pay, I should've KNOWN better than to rely on him.

:(

As usual, I have to dip into my savings to cover the insurance & tags. If he would've held up his end of our deal I would have my $90 to get my own car plates and I would have insurance!! And he wonders why I'd rather chew my own leg off than sit in a shoe box house for an evening with him.

I haven't put gas in my car since June 4th, the day I drove home from our KY visit. Of course now that it's raining & I want to get across town to my brother's house for the night, my car gas tank registers E.M.P.T.Y.

Inside the gas station where I have to prepay, there are two lines, both with two customers. I randomly choose the line on the right. I was sooooo wrong. As soon as I solidify my decision, the cashier politely says, "I'll be right back" and leaves her post. Great-O. The woman in front of me is scratching lottery tickets in line. Weird.

The first guy in the left lane apparently cannot speak a normal sentence; he is so fricken jolly that he sings everything. And he doesn't shut up. I want to stab him with a spoon. The guy behind him is looking pretty hot. But he's gay. Rats. Finally my cashier comes back - I'm ready to go postal. The lottery ticket shithead in line in front of me ... she is the type that spends her entire paycheck on lottery tickets by buying $50 worth, going directly to the end of the line & scratching tickets as she works her way back up to the cashier to cash in winning tickets for more tickets. She will NOT get out of the way as she's mentally counting how many tickets she's had from each variety and which one's she wants to get next. I feel my breathe getting shallow & it's increasingly harder to control the urge to start screaming all the insane antics that were rolling through my already overwhelmed & emotional head.

I finally get my turn & ask for $20 on pump #3. The clerk cheerfully asks for my Speedy card. I have no card. I've been in this Speedway eleven thousand trillion times & always answer that I have no Speedy card. It is at this exact moment that she feels she needs to offer me a Speedy card ~ like she doesn't see the lasers getting ready to shoot from my eyes or the whisps of smoke that are puffing up from my hair as I attempt to keep from spontanious combustion.

Me: No thanks. (forced smile)

Clerk: But it...

Me (cutting her off): I don't care, I'm in a hurry (wildly flashy my eyes like I might whip out my great kung fu skills and forever maime everyone around me).

I turned and bolted for the door. I wanted to go from laser eyeballs to a sobbing lump of baby watching the gas pump. $20 and I don't even get 5 gallons. LESS THAN FIVE GALLONS!! This is why I ride my bike daily.

I know at my brother's house they are always trying to stuff me with food, but I find it insanely rude to expect a meal when I get there so I stop for a light snack at wonderful world of McD's. As I pull from the order stand to the payment window, my brain starts ticking... the price just didn't seem quite right. I know that the tax rate has risen from the 5% that I remember just a few years back, but I don't know exactly what it's up to now. I get out my handy dandy phone, use the calculator on it, and WHAM-O ~~ a whopping EIGHT percent!! I'm fervently hopping that the McD's employees are just idiots. 8%???? *sobbing*

I have a ghetto-white-trash car. The radio is hard wired to the battery. Lucky me. I turn it on to drown out the chaos that is my current state of mind. I hear Drew Cage talking about Bear on the Square. He mistakenly says, "Wednesdays from 11:30 to 1:00 AM. I'm a dork and yes, I catch these things. In my twisted head I think it would be funny to call in and correct him, just to have a lil fun at someone else's expense. It's harmless. Pathetic? Maybe. But at this moment anything is entertaining to me, so fuck you.

Busy signal. Busy signal. Busy signal. A dozen times, I got a busy signal. My husband can call a dozen times a day to win monsterous prizes off of every radio station known to man when a gorzillion other listeners are calling in. If someone says be the 15th caller, he will be caller #1, #4, #8, #11 & #15. I can't even get through during a non-busy calling time just to make fun of the show host.

Grumpy or not, I'm writing about whatever. Everything possible. If you happen to read something in here that is nameless, but you know it's about you, shut up. At least I didn't call you out on your stupid ass shit by name :)~

Much love to all!