"Like any good newsman, I believe that if you're not scared, I'm not doing my job".
First, the good news: Yesterday I was able to fit back into jeans that did not fit me at all (as in, cannot zip or button) as early as two weeks ago. This makes me want to drink more water and eat fruit. I�m pretty proud of myself.
Second, a question: Who�s the bigger retard? My husband, or me for marrying him? I�ve realized, it�s me. He has an excuse, he IS an idiot. I�m an idiot by injection.
PArt of me hates that I�ve lost any shred of respect for him. Part of me does love the moron. He does try, you know, he doesn�t intentionally mean to be the way he is, that�s just the way he is.
That�s just one part of me. The other part? Yeah, you know that story. The evil hater in me seethes with anger, rage, fury and pure hatred for him. Especially now, at PMS-time.
Oh yeah, I�m getting a divorce. Just not right now. But, eventually, I�ll be outtie. I know he�s figured this out. How do I live with it? I don�t know. Weed, beer and the internet. And lately, movies.
And? I examined my feelings looking for the source of my intolerance for his kids and found it. It�s my resentment for him projected onto his poor, pathetic kids. I�m pretty sure.
After all my big talk about not wanting to be stuck with Hilda this weekend, that�s exactly what happened. And I wanted to rip my own fucking face off. She spent Saturday with Courtney, and that was cool (and why the fuck can�t Courtney be my step daughter? I love that girl), but Sunday and Monday, while he was busy �working�, I was stuck with the nosey bitch.
(I put �working� in quotes, because he says he�s out busy plowing, but then talks about him and �all the guys� went out to breakfast. Isn�t that special? I�m so glad he can have an active social life while I�m stuck here with his fucking nosey wannabe cutter daughter).
Yeah, we have this �window� thing in between the living room and the kitchen. In the living room, the couch is against that wall. While I�m in the kitchen, Hilda will prop herself up on the couch, facing the kitchen, and watch every fucking thing I do. One thing that annoys the fuck out of me? A goddamned audience. Especially one that is secretly making note of everything I do, and who I do it for, taking notes like I�m neglecting her. Like I owe her shit. Bitch.
Oh my goodness! There�s that hater again.
�I have an appointment at 11:30, then I�ll be home right after�. Yeah. Then he came home at 2:00. No explanation. And now, I fucking don�t even talk to him. If I get pissed about it, then I�m just a bitch. So, fuck it. I�ll talk to everybody else but him. Asshole.
This morning: �I�m just going to check [a customer, local dentist]�s parking lot, I�ll be right back.�. That was at seven. Haven�t heard shit from him, and now it�s after 10:00. Thanks. And part of me feels bad for not respecting him? Like he has an iota of respect for me.
Which, fine, go out and do your thing. I know what he�s doing , too. He�s working for free. He�s been working with that guy under the table? Since the beginning of December? And been paid a whopping $500 in that time. And the guy was gonna pay him again the week before last, and then last week, and then Sunday, and nothing. Hub gives excuses for the guy, like, �He does apologize�. Yeah? BFD. Apologies don�t pay the bills, douchebag. So I told him yesterday, after he supposedly �left three messages� for him, I said, �If you go to work for him tomorrow, you�re a fucking moron�. Sorry, but it�s true, and sometimes, the truth hurts.
Oh? Reason #976 that Hub is a retard: my �thumbs downs� appeared in the Hudson Litchfield News last Friday. You have no idea how much I regret putting them there, but it�s a done deal. Anyway. The cop who Hub had spoken to that night came by yesterday just to go over the situation with us. Yeah. Like I thought after I thought about the situation, Hub went out there ranting and raving and HE was the one who wouldn�t let the cop get a word in edgewise. Which I believe cuz I know he�s a fucking drama queen and that�s the shit he pulls on me all the time. Captain Asshat of the Amazing Retard Force strikes again.
I wish it was as easy as just leaving. I really do, cuz if it was, I�d have been gone long ago. But it�s not that easy. I have to consider the kids and that this is their home. And they�re all attached to Hub, although Beavis is really beginning to understand my side of it more.
I also have to consider another thing, that I�ve considered many, many times over: my earning potential is shit. Seriously, people. If I were lucky, I might get a job making $12 an hour. That�s if I were lucky. It�d be more like $10 an hour. Which, hello, you can�t raise a fucking family on that. And considering that I am not getting any child support right now whatsoever, I can�t count on that for income.
However, there is one solution, and it�s actually quite simple: I need to win the lottery. I don�t need a Powerball cash buyout of $80 million or anything, just a cool million or two after taxes. Fuck it, half a million would do. Enough to buy a house outright. Nothing fancy. I�ll throw some money at Hub for his time and effort, and dismiss him. See? Easy right?
Except not. It�s easy like the secret for wise investing: buy the stock when the price is as low as it will go, and then sell it when it�s as high as it will go. Simple!
In other news, in an effort to prove Hilda a huge hypocrite for her �I don�t eat pork or cow because they�re mean to them� thing, I asked her If she eats at KFC. Oh yeah. It shows on her fat ass, too. But that�s not the point. Anyway, in my research of what exactly KFC does to the chickens, I stumbled upon some distressing info about the meat industry, and ew. Just ew. Never mind the animal mistreatment, let�s talk about the shit in the meat. Hormones, antibiotics, and toxins (personally, bacteria doesn�t scare me too much, except for the super bacteria they�re breeding using all those damn antibiotics). I wonder why there�s so much cancer now? Anyway, I�m not about to become a vegetarian anytime soon, but I�m cutting down on the meat, that�s for sure.
And Hilda is still a big fat hypocrite, chicken torture will not sway her from eating buckets and buckets of extra crispy. Pig.
Oh, the hater again.
Anyway, peeps, Jackie�s out. don�t worry about me. You�ll see why when I read your shit and leave stupid comments. Like I said before, when all is lost, I�ve still got my sense of humor.
Get the fuck out of here!