"It's not a lie if you believe it"--George Costanza

Almost two weeks and no update. There is no excuse aside from my lack of privacy combined with a bunch of laziness on my part. I obviously will never be one of those update every day (or close to it) kind of people, unless I lose my job or husband. I can't foresee either happening in the near future, but one can never really predict what's going to happen.

Blah, blah blah. I only have a little bit of time right now, as Hub has taken Butthead to a cousin's house to spend the day. The boy spent yesterday playing Play-Doh and coloring with the little kids. 15 years old. Stop it. Act your age. Go out and get into some trouble.

The custody battle is getting prominent in our lives again as the trial date nears. I wish I could go more into detail, cuz I'd love to vent it out here, but I just can't. It'd be my luck that The Douchebag would find this little diary and find some way to subpoena Andrew into giving them my IP, then subpoenaing (if there is such a word!)my internet provider, blah blah blah. It sounds wicked far-fetched, but I'm taking no chances.

What I can mention is that The Douchebag is one sick, twisted, sorry excuse for a mother. She has the ego of a 4 year old, the whole world revolves around her and no one else. To my husband, this custody battle is about his daughter and his concern for her safety, as he believes her mother cannot and will not protect her. To The Douchebag, it's about us picking on her and being mean to her and lying so that my husband won't have to pay child support. Please. Silly Douchebag, tricks are for kids. Like her measley just-less-than $100 a week is worth all this friggin' aggravation. Not to mention the $10,000 in lawyers fees. Come. the fuck. ON.

Here's some petty junior high school bullshit on my part. In the past year, I've lost just about 80 lbs. Rock'n'roll. Guess who found it--The Douchebag! Tee hee. She's always been heavy, but now she's even bigger. She cries poverty but she's apparently not starving!! There's always money for Wendy's! Anyway. Court hearing in a week. I've got this outfit, tight black dress with these killer shoes (they're high heels, and I'm a fairly tall woman at 5'9", but with those heels on I'm almost six feet tall) that Hub loves. When I put it on, he always tells me "You are one hot woman" (and fuck all that shit he's always saying about how he thought I was just as beautiful when I was fat, that's nice and all, but fucking admit it, I look way better now). The plan is to wear "The Outfit" the first day of court. Eat your heart out. That one argument of her's about how supposedly Hub doesn't want her to be in a relationship with anyone else is going to fly right out the window. That and the fact that he got rid of her, he filed for divorce. That and he just plain can't stand her. I couldn't even watch the Anna Nicole Show with him around (which is always) because she reminds him of The Douchebag.

Anyway. He's back. I gotta go.

Bye.

Listening to:

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