Remember when he threw the blanket on top of the furnace? And left it?
I�m getting a fucking divorce.
I know, I�ve said it before. But this time, fuckin� A, I am. I am done.
Know that the motherfucker did this time? I �let� him take the van yesterday to �new member sign up� at the club, which, as it turns out, is actually on Monday and not yesterday, isn�t that interesting, but anyway, the point is, he took the van.
Kind of crucial to the story: yesterday, it was a nice, balmy 55 degrees or so outside. Raining, too. But still warm. Also, slated for last night was a huge cool down in which temps would dive into the 20�s and the rain would turn to ice and then snow. And high winds whipping it all around.
I knew this, he knew this and I knew that he knew.
Also kind of important to the story: the van overheated when he took it. Well, better him than me. He had to buy anti-freeze for it and put it in. I know, the poor fucking guy, he had to do something not only for me, but for my vehicle, too. I mean, it seems to me that he somewhat enjoys putting hundreds and thousands of dollars into his truck on account of his beating the shit out of it, but to have to be bothered with the petty shit that goes wrong with the van, too? My goddamned fucking goodness.
So. He took the van. He came home. We had supper. I was beat (okay, I was drunk) and went to bed early.
This morning came around. Weather changed exactly as promised. No Sunday School for the kids, as the snow/Ice/rain mix did a number on the roads. Hub went to work to plow for the next town over.
I had to go pick up Beavis at his buddy�s house, right around the corner. I have learned to prepare well; i.e. start the van early enough so that it�s nice and warm and snow/ice melts easily off the windows. So, I headed out to start the van.
Rrrr. My side windows at the middle seats were open. Then I got in the van. The fucking passenger side window was open, snow all over the door and seat, and fucking "frozen open" to boot!
Rrrrr!!! WTF!
See, I need a divorce. No trial separation, no marriage counseling, I need a fucking divorce!
Maybe it sounds extreme but maybe it will help to mention that not only did he leave my windows before a snowstorm of epic proportions, but he also forgot his cell phone when he left for work, thereby leaving me with no way of getting in touch with him in order to inflict verbal abuse upon him.
Tell me that�s not divorce worthy. Try it. I�ll kick your ass.
Seriously! Section 8, a full time job, after school care/daycare, Food Stamps and the fucking Salvation Army, man. All better than dealing with Captain Asshat of the Amazing Retard Force. Come on! You know you agree.
Plus, then I could fuck my neighbor!
Okay, so I kid. I�m all fucking talk. I�m not getting a divorce over him leaving the windows to the van open (even though it was in the winter, and right before an ice/snow storm, WTF!).
And really, when I got all bent out of shape over it, it wasn�t just the open windows, even with the forgotten cell phone to boot. Nope, it�s every single fucking other time he�s done stupid shit that results in a grave inconvenience to me. Every fucking �I�m sorry� that I�ve heard so much, it�s become nails on a chalkboard to me.
Remember when he threw the blanket on top of the furnace? And left it? And my only way of knowing it was there was the �funny smell� that I wouldn�t have smelled were it not for me happening to be downstairs where I rarely go?
Speaking of the furnace, how much of an �oopsie� is this? The boys started smelling *GAS* downstairs last year. Hub being the �man�, they told him. He took no action. Whatsoever. I went down there in November and it stunk like gas. I called the landlord. He got Dave next door, resident plumber, to have a look. Yeah. It seems, the thing was clogged and blowing out gas left and right.
Tell me I wouldn�t have cause to divorce him if the fucking boys died of carbon monoxide poisoning! Try it!
(The good news is, Dave unclogged it, and I bought a carbon monoxide detector for down there. And the boys are alive. ALIVE!).
I stand firm in my conviction that should one of his fuck-ups cause the loss of our home or any life in it, I will fucking divorce him. And even though I�m all talk most of the time, I am not with this.
Beavis thinks that funny, and made a joke about it.
�Mom. Picture it, you guys go to marriage counseling after Hub burns down the house. The counselor says, �Mrs Hub, you want to get a divorce because he burned down your house?��
We went into a scenario where the counselor thinks I�m being petty and doesn�t see any reason for a divorce.
Hub: �Really, so your son lost his leg after the burning beam fell on it. My son *cut his thumb*, saving your son�s life!�
More Hub: �I said I�m sorry! I fucked up! It won�t happen again! I fucked up!�.
Beavis and I were on the floor laughing at the funny little skit in our minds. I love that kid.
Not so much the other night, when he flipped the fuck out over snowboarding plans that fell through at the last minute. What a show. However, I have to comfort myself with the fact that at least that�s all he has to flip the fuck out about, ya know?
Anyway, that�s all I got right now. I wanted to write about �Celebrity Fit Club�, but I�ve got nosey-Hilda-head here and want to wrap this up. But, real quick, hello! Jeff Conaway! Ho-LEE! Dude is on some shit. 2 benadryls, pah-leeeeeze! I am the queen of 2 benadryls, and they don�t do that to me. How about, more like, fifteen percocets! Twenty muscle relaxants! (oooh, muscle relaxants, gotta love them!). Thirty oxycontin! Knock It off. And Chastity Bono is my pretend wannabe lesbian daughter, even though she roughly the same age as me. I know, I always said I want a gay son, but would settle on a lesbian daughter if I had to, and one like Chastity would be perfect.
Which I won�t. I�ve given up hope on any of my children being gay (I know, Mickey is still young, but he�s too �boy�). I�m going to have to adopt one.
Okay, this chick is out.
PS: I love beer.