Monday, November 16, 2009

Your daily update.....

I am super charged on oatmeal this morning, half a cup of chocolate milk and ready to go.

But where?

Of course, Ladybird had destroyed more garbage this morning, so there I was in robe, galoshes, and of course, sunglasses, picking up trash. Before coffee. P.S. Champ had gotten up in the middle of the night and ransacked said purse which had pumpkin muffins in it. My bad. Oh, have I told you the bast part? He had pooped in the kitchen. Thanks. Also, before coffee. I was still in a good mood all things considering. I have become obsessed with oldies. Ya know, on the radio. Barbara Ann came on, and that's one of my Beach Boy's JAMS!!!!!!! I couldn't be upset, but when I opened the kennel door, Champ went runnin' right in. I gave him the stank eye, as he gave me the look-through-my-eyelashes-and-let-you-know-you-destroy-my-spirit-on-a-daily-basis-thing he does. It is that drawn out, and that exhausting. This, is my life. I really wouldn't change it for a million dollars. I mean, I would take the million dollars and like, dance crazy jigs in front of the courthouse in Dandridge. How fun.

Back to business. I received an ugly little letter in the mail Saturday, that has made me purely, well, evil. Hateful. Angry. Chickens, if and when, and I hope you don't experience the ugly little whore divorce can be, wipe your knees off and take this into consideration. Just do what you have to do. Make shit work. Try a little harder. You all have seen what it had/has done to me. Now, good golly, I am changed. I am better. I am a fucking gymnast in "The Rules" everyone else had the pleasure to follow...... and I look amazing.

I roll over and hiss at the daylight known as "reality." Should I call Thomas and raise hell? Should I cry into my mimosa? Should I just stuff it deep and not deal with the fact he continues to hurt me? Well, well, well. No. I am trying to face it. I am toe to toe with all the bullshit.

I have to write him a letter and burn it with Pastor Bob and Sister Amy. I think the whole thing will be cleansing. It's going to be Lent all over again.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

Money is the root of all evil. And it WILL destroy your marriage. Don't be a lazy ass and be scared to discuss it.

I am going back to counseling. I need it. There are some dingle berries that just are still there. I don't need anyone barking at me. I don't need to be told what to do. I need support. Just like you. Just like your wife. Just like your girlfriend. Just like your husband. Just like your boyfriend. Never ignore the folk's closest to you. Your family is just like a flame, ignore it, and it will consume everything. Become out of control.

The only thing I need advice on is based on a Whitney Houston song, "How will I know?"

I'm picking up clues, and setting them down. I like it.

All he has to pay is $60 measly bucks. What a fucker for not wanting to do this. My apologies for my erratic mood change. I just got off the phone with said bank and all they really said to me was: Sit on it and spin. How helpful.

My lady parts are killing me with all the fucking that's going on. Assholes.

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