you don't even want to know.
My opinions no longer matter.
I am bitchy, I am hormonal, I am in pain because of a baby growing in my uterus. At this point in time, I would not give a shit if this child came in the next two weeks.
I am pissed off constantly. I cannot find any joy whatsoever in any little fucking thing.
Roy and I went to the OK to shoot pool on Friday night after dinner. I was hit on by some nasty, skanky man old enough to be my grandfather who was also way past his damn limit but someone decided it would be OK to give him another beer as he sat down. Roy had two beers but said nothing to the old man, who kept making references to my ass and how he would stick it wherever I wanted.
Of course, I made the mistake of saying something about this on FB, because my father gets ahold of me the very next day, and tells me that Roy should have beaten this old man's brains out. Nevermind the fact that, if he had, Roy would have gone to jail for assault and possibly murder- as old as this man was- and my father would have then told me how worthless Roy was and how I didn't need to be tied up with such riffraff anyway.
Oh, despite the fact I'm just... ya know, carrying his son.
I finally told my father to drop it. Yes, I know he cares about me, but that's overkill. My father is 62 years old and does NOT need to be overprotective of me anymore. I am no longer 12. I can put on my big girl panties and deal with the majority of what life hands me. After all, I went through a divorce and have lost three children. Anything else is just peanuts at this point.
What really made it worse was when Jade decided to defend my father. My father does not need defending, he needs to get off his nasty fricking creeper horse and leave me the fuck alone. I am 33 years old. He really didn't play a major part in my upbringing, he mostly ignored me when I was a kid and yelled at me because I was never good at math.
I am so sick and tired of being people's maids. I am no longer saying anything to Kathy and her brats, I am sick of repeating myself and I am tired of her and the kids saying they'll do one thing and not do it at all. I have asked Dom I do not know how many times to get his nasty, scrubby feet off the couch. I have told the boys not to flop into the couch when they sit. I have told the kids to keep their toys picked up- I've started throwing away Dom's Legos when I sweep. If he doesn't care enough to keep them picked up, then I don't care enough to save the damn things for him. Kathy has not paid us for the last two weeks, so therefore the kids are not our responsibility these two weeks. She went out and bought Richie a pair of $30 designer jeans from the 1/2 of 1/2 store here in town (which is rubbish, overpriced shit), and a pair of pleather pants so that she can make the men at her work go ga-ga over what little of an ass she has. The woman wears a size 0, and she's 37 years old, and all she talks about is making the men at her workplace drool over her body.
Whore.
Yes, I'm being judgemental. Do I really give a fuck at this point? Hell no.
On Friday also, Roy and I just happened to be in the shoe department. This was before we decided to go to the OK and shoot some pool. I was looking at some new shoes for me. I had not bought any new shoes in three years. And the next thing I know, Roy was saying Hi to that person who hasn't spoken to me in oh... Today would make one year exactly. His Transformer hadn't been out in the parking lot for about two to two and a half weeks, so I honestly thought they'd fired him. And when I off-handedly asked Roy who that was, he told me- but I know a lot of people with that first name, so he told me exactly. My reaction was, 'Oh, I don't talk to him anymore.' And that was that. I didn't see him, didn't want to, didn't care that he was even there. It's sad that that is how a friendship/bene situation turned out, but it was inevitable. I'm too much of a bitch for him and he's too much of a flightly asshole for me. Which is why I'm still with Roy, I guess.
Xy ended up going to school today, and she was doing really well all day and into this afternoon. I tried helping her with her Valentine's Day box after she and I sat down and filled out all of her Valentines. She wanted me to make her a Monster High box, but she didn't want to listen to me about how I was going to do it after she and I'd agreed how I was going to do it, and colored all over the damn thing instead. Yes, I know she's 6 1/2. Yes, I know she is a kid. And yes, I know I was acting like my father. I let her know exactly how I felt about how she decided she was going to color all over the box after I'd put half of the drawings of her Monster High characters on it, along with stickers. Not exactly pleased. She asked me to do something for her, and that was disrespectful of her to do all of that- but I guess I should be used to it. She is my daughter, after all. I probably didn't listen worth a damn when I was that age, either- but of course, I was so doped up on Ritalin, Dexadrine, Clonadine and Prozac that I'm still lucky to know my own name.
I gave Zerrin a bath, washed her hair. I was going to do the same with Xy, but she screamed bloody fucking murder when I picked her up to take her into the bathroom. I'd had the water drawn and had taken her shoes, braces and socks off. I wanted her to take a bath. I had good reason for it. For some damn reason Xy had returned home yesterday with blood droplets in her hair. It looks like she's been scratching the hell out of her scalp, and I needed to check her for fleas or lice. Not to mention that she's not had a bath in over a week, and it probably would have made her feel better. She never got the bath because Roy screamed at me to put her in her bed- so I did. No teddy bear, no TV, no toys. She was laying in her bean bag with her blanket over her and decided that she was just going to not eat her soup that she'd requested, and fall asleep instead. I was keeping in mind that she is still somewhat getting over being sick. Roy just didn't give a damn.
We are ALREADY having issues with our new car, mostly because Roy guns the damn thing all the time. The Stablitrack has been having issues since day one, it needs re-aligned, it needs two U-shaped bolts put in the front end, and NOW we are having ENGINE issues because he wants to gun the son of a bitch rather than take it easy on it when the Stablitrack causes the brakes to sporadically brake on their own, which grinds the front tires because he once again wants to gun the damn thing. The engine has told us twice this weekend "Engine Power Reduced". The first time, we were completely out of coolant. Well, we fixed that. The second time was last night after we picked up the girls. Roy decided he was going to go 80 to 85 in a 70. We ended up finishing up going home no faster than 30, sometimes 40 when we were downhill. We sat at the gas station in town for about 20 minutes, and the engine regained power. The engine light was still on, but at least we could get home somewhat safely. He was suppose to call Mike down the street and ask him what his take was on it, since Mike knows cars- hell, it could be a sensor, the air filter- anything at this point.
Oh, and I wasn't able to pay the mortgage this month. Nope. So now we're two payments behind instead of one. I had to pay the electric bill or else they were going to shut us off the very next day. I had to make payment arrangements. They wanted almost $600, we didn't have that. So now I guess I'm paying all the bills. If they foreclose on this dump, so fucking be it. I don't care anymore. I'm already geared up to lose every fucking thing I have worked my ass off for in the first place.
So just fuck it all.
I am bitchy, I am hormonal, I am in pain because of a baby growing in my uterus. At this point in time, I would not give a shit if this child came in the next two weeks.
I am pissed off constantly. I cannot find any joy whatsoever in any little fucking thing.
Roy and I went to the OK to shoot pool on Friday night after dinner. I was hit on by some nasty, skanky man old enough to be my grandfather who was also way past his damn limit but someone decided it would be OK to give him another beer as he sat down. Roy had two beers but said nothing to the old man, who kept making references to my ass and how he would stick it wherever I wanted.
Of course, I made the mistake of saying something about this on FB, because my father gets ahold of me the very next day, and tells me that Roy should have beaten this old man's brains out. Nevermind the fact that, if he had, Roy would have gone to jail for assault and possibly murder- as old as this man was- and my father would have then told me how worthless Roy was and how I didn't need to be tied up with such riffraff anyway.
Oh, despite the fact I'm just... ya know, carrying his son.
I finally told my father to drop it. Yes, I know he cares about me, but that's overkill. My father is 62 years old and does NOT need to be overprotective of me anymore. I am no longer 12. I can put on my big girl panties and deal with the majority of what life hands me. After all, I went through a divorce and have lost three children. Anything else is just peanuts at this point.
What really made it worse was when Jade decided to defend my father. My father does not need defending, he needs to get off his nasty fricking creeper horse and leave me the fuck alone. I am 33 years old. He really didn't play a major part in my upbringing, he mostly ignored me when I was a kid and yelled at me because I was never good at math.
I am so sick and tired of being people's maids. I am no longer saying anything to Kathy and her brats, I am sick of repeating myself and I am tired of her and the kids saying they'll do one thing and not do it at all. I have asked Dom I do not know how many times to get his nasty, scrubby feet off the couch. I have told the boys not to flop into the couch when they sit. I have told the kids to keep their toys picked up- I've started throwing away Dom's Legos when I sweep. If he doesn't care enough to keep them picked up, then I don't care enough to save the damn things for him. Kathy has not paid us for the last two weeks, so therefore the kids are not our responsibility these two weeks. She went out and bought Richie a pair of $30 designer jeans from the 1/2 of 1/2 store here in town (which is rubbish, overpriced shit), and a pair of pleather pants so that she can make the men at her work go ga-ga over what little of an ass she has. The woman wears a size 0, and she's 37 years old, and all she talks about is making the men at her workplace drool over her body.
Whore.
Yes, I'm being judgemental. Do I really give a fuck at this point? Hell no.
On Friday also, Roy and I just happened to be in the shoe department. This was before we decided to go to the OK and shoot some pool. I was looking at some new shoes for me. I had not bought any new shoes in three years. And the next thing I know, Roy was saying Hi to that person who hasn't spoken to me in oh... Today would make one year exactly. His Transformer hadn't been out in the parking lot for about two to two and a half weeks, so I honestly thought they'd fired him. And when I off-handedly asked Roy who that was, he told me- but I know a lot of people with that first name, so he told me exactly. My reaction was, 'Oh, I don't talk to him anymore.' And that was that. I didn't see him, didn't want to, didn't care that he was even there. It's sad that that is how a friendship/bene situation turned out, but it was inevitable. I'm too much of a bitch for him and he's too much of a flightly asshole for me. Which is why I'm still with Roy, I guess.
Xy ended up going to school today, and she was doing really well all day and into this afternoon. I tried helping her with her Valentine's Day box after she and I sat down and filled out all of her Valentines. She wanted me to make her a Monster High box, but she didn't want to listen to me about how I was going to do it after she and I'd agreed how I was going to do it, and colored all over the damn thing instead. Yes, I know she's 6 1/2. Yes, I know she is a kid. And yes, I know I was acting like my father. I let her know exactly how I felt about how she decided she was going to color all over the box after I'd put half of the drawings of her Monster High characters on it, along with stickers. Not exactly pleased. She asked me to do something for her, and that was disrespectful of her to do all of that- but I guess I should be used to it. She is my daughter, after all. I probably didn't listen worth a damn when I was that age, either- but of course, I was so doped up on Ritalin, Dexadrine, Clonadine and Prozac that I'm still lucky to know my own name.
I gave Zerrin a bath, washed her hair. I was going to do the same with Xy, but she screamed bloody fucking murder when I picked her up to take her into the bathroom. I'd had the water drawn and had taken her shoes, braces and socks off. I wanted her to take a bath. I had good reason for it. For some damn reason Xy had returned home yesterday with blood droplets in her hair. It looks like she's been scratching the hell out of her scalp, and I needed to check her for fleas or lice. Not to mention that she's not had a bath in over a week, and it probably would have made her feel better. She never got the bath because Roy screamed at me to put her in her bed- so I did. No teddy bear, no TV, no toys. She was laying in her bean bag with her blanket over her and decided that she was just going to not eat her soup that she'd requested, and fall asleep instead. I was keeping in mind that she is still somewhat getting over being sick. Roy just didn't give a damn.
We are ALREADY having issues with our new car, mostly because Roy guns the damn thing all the time. The Stablitrack has been having issues since day one, it needs re-aligned, it needs two U-shaped bolts put in the front end, and NOW we are having ENGINE issues because he wants to gun the son of a bitch rather than take it easy on it when the Stablitrack causes the brakes to sporadically brake on their own, which grinds the front tires because he once again wants to gun the damn thing. The engine has told us twice this weekend "Engine Power Reduced". The first time, we were completely out of coolant. Well, we fixed that. The second time was last night after we picked up the girls. Roy decided he was going to go 80 to 85 in a 70. We ended up finishing up going home no faster than 30, sometimes 40 when we were downhill. We sat at the gas station in town for about 20 minutes, and the engine regained power. The engine light was still on, but at least we could get home somewhat safely. He was suppose to call Mike down the street and ask him what his take was on it, since Mike knows cars- hell, it could be a sensor, the air filter- anything at this point.
Oh, and I wasn't able to pay the mortgage this month. Nope. So now we're two payments behind instead of one. I had to pay the electric bill or else they were going to shut us off the very next day. I had to make payment arrangements. They wanted almost $600, we didn't have that. So now I guess I'm paying all the bills. If they foreclose on this dump, so fucking be it. I don't care anymore. I'm already geared up to lose every fucking thing I have worked my ass off for in the first place.
So just fuck it all.