Sometimes

Sometimes I buy things because they are on sale and he likes them.

Sometimes I cook things for him and include those sale items he likes.

And sometimes, when I'm in that happy morning spot and the warm coffee hits my belleh, I remember...

...sometimes those favorites have side effects.  And I will secretly laugh to myself and hope the jalapeños come out a little hotter than when they went in.

BUT, only sometimes.

Doing it for the flowers

Sometimes I feel bad for my downstairs neighbor.  I'm wearing my wedge shoes today and my feets are a bit on the stompy side.  I know the noise up here can be loud from time to time.  I was the downstairs neighbor for a good five years and during that time a guy who ran on a treadmill lived upstairs.

I think about how my neighbor, who shows absolutely no physical signs of being handicapped or have limited walking abilities, refuses to park in the 30 or so available spaces on the asphalt.  He parks in the freaking GARDEN under the magnolia tree.  Every.  Single.  Day.  Because that 10' walk to you door is a wicked killer, amirite?

I pray for rain each day he is here (doesn't work very hard, only here about 25% of the time - not a very successful business model if you ask me).  The garden area is low-lying and collects a ton of water when the sky leaks.  He even DROVE OVER the patch of bell flower things that despite being driven over all winter, still emerged when awakened by spring.  While the damn things are in bloom!

When fat girl decides to wear cute, strappy wedges to work it actually sounds like BIG FOOT is answering the phones up here.  And she does NOT want you tiptoeing or driving on the mf-ing tulips!!!

I cannot believe he just texted me that!!

Something wrong with you?

Well, let's see...

Our early-day textual conversation was complete with me giving you my evening schedule.  You knew exactly where I was going to be and what I had to accomplish.  I even updated you on the scheduled rain you were terrified for me to drive in (scheduled to begin 30 minutes AFTER I would eventually arrive home).

I left the office at 5:00 yesterday and drove 13 miles to pick up your son.  After going through 10 minutes of crazy (four kids, two dogs, everyone trying to talk at once) I finally get him in the car and we head back to town another 13 miles to meet the widower so I can iron some work clothes for him.

We enjoy a short visit full of hugs and I love yous then we leave the widower and head towards the gas station because the fuel light has come on and I now have a back seat full of "WE NEED GAS!! WE'RE GOING TO RUN OUT OF GAS!!"  I can assure you this is not a pleasant experience.

We get to the gas station and I start pumping and I can barely hear the "mom, mom, Mom, Mom, MOM" chatter coming through the cracked window.  Mr. Man just has to ask, RIGHT NOW, if he can get out of the car.  Clearly the boy is out of his mind because this is a drive thru gas place and secondly, he NEVER EVER has gotten out of the car while I pumped gas.  That's a big hell to the no, you can't get out of the car.

Then we drive to the magic window to trade money for food.  I made our specific order for each of us, pay the lady at window one, grab food from window two and drive away.  We almost drive away, the boy has to fight his cup holder open before I can pass his drink off.  I'm mid-turn out of the driveway and he's yelling for his food bag.  (SERENITY NOW!!) We arrive at the lodge and after I get the door unlocked, I have to figure out which breakers to flip for the lights - in the DARK.  Junior won't even come inside the building and is having another freak out.  Awesome.  The battery is dead in my trunk flashlight.  I improvise and use my phone to poorly light the panel and finally find the lights using the Just Flip Them All Dammit technique.

We sit down to eat and BOTH sandwiches are wrong.  Lovely.  It's now 6:20 and the meeting starts at 7:00.  We  enjoy each other's company for a whole fifteen minutes over "dinner" and start setting up the chairs and all of my paperwork.  People start arriving.  I haven't peed since about 4:00.

The meeting lasts for just over an hour.  I'm busy as a one-armed paper hanger and if I'm not busy with an adult shoving money and papers at me about every 2 minutes, answering questions, taking care of business then I'm being badgered by the mommy train.  "Can I have something to draw on?"  "Will you play tic tac toe with me?" "What does this hand signal mean? (there's a wall of group riding signals on display, he knows how to sign for a fuel stop and I doubt he'll use the sign the next time the fuel light comes one, he'll just yell like he usually does)"  I also have to take meeting minutes, have I mentioned that I also forgot my coat and it was getting cool rather quickly?

I finally finish up inside and get the boy in the car, make two trips to get my stuff in the car and go back inside to answer a few more questions.  On my final approach to the car I remembered I forgot to call the husband.  As much as I hate to, I whip out the phone and call him as we're driving away.  The time is 8:24.

I begin my call with, "Honey, I am so sorry I forgot to call you earlier.  It's been a real busy evening and I'm really sorry, I've been..."  He interrupts me to say, "Well, you could have AT LEAST texted me."

*blink*  *blink*

Seriously?  You interrupt my apology to you with an admonishment?  Completely taken aback I pass the phone to the boy so he can talk to his dad.  Of course the boy can not resist touching buttons on the phone and they are disconnected a few miles down the road.  He doesn't call back and I'm too busy driving to worry about it.

Finally, after driving 45 miles in 2.75 hours we arrive home.  I get to pee, HOORAY!!  And he calls again, I immediately give the phone to the boy who is trying to put on pajamas and brush his teeth.  I've listened to him say how tired he is for the last 30 minutes and most of their conversation is about how tired the boy is.  They finish talking and give the phone back to me.  "You good?  Ok.  Love you, bye."  and I hung up.  Those four words arrive to my inbox and I've reached capacity.  I put the phone on the charger and drank a glass of wine while I watched COPS.  (Thank you G4 for almost always having an episode of COPS around when I need one.)

Yes, something IS wrong with me.  I've had enough of today and your stupid shenanigans are not going to make my day any harder than it already was.  DUMBASS!!

And guess who needs a ride home tonight?  I'll give you a hint, it's not me!

Also, your Honey Do List just turned into a "I can't believe that bitch thinks I'm going to do all of this!"

They're so cute at that age.

I've been hoarding 2 Mucinex pills since the last time I had a cold...about 2 years ago.  I remembered the stash and shoved the bottle at the Husband.

TAKE THESE or I will suffocate you in  your sleep.

Husband spent all of yesterday blowing and hacking.  When his foreman asked him if he was OK, he confirmed that Mucinex was good stuff.  Thanks for the confirmation Foreman, I'm totally baking you a cake this weekend!

Because Sir Hacks a Lot had me all sleep deprived, I forgot to swing by the store for Mucinex, bread and milk.  I DID remember to bring home Pizza Hut because I had every single intention of eating and passing out as soon as we got home.  When I snapped to (remembering I forgot...weird!) Husband offered to go for me.  SWEET!  He even took Junior with him.  Suck up!!


As I was almost asleep in the recliner, my phone rings, it's him.

"What color is the box?"

What do you mean what color is the box?  I gave you a bottle this morning, not a box and the last time I bought it was 2 years ago.

"Well there's a blue one but it's $30.00!"

Dude, I don't care what the price is.  If it will SHUT YOU THE HELL UP, it's worth it!!  Also, it's the same price as the doctor's co-pay, which you won't go to so just buy the damn things!!

Sir Hacks a Lot didn't show up until 5:00 this morning.  And I slept like a log.  I win.

I'm addicted to other things too

Hi, my name is Jocelyn and I'm addicted to Office Depot.

I honestly think I was more excited about OD coming to town than Wal-mart.  And this is The South, you know I be lovin' me some Wal-Mart, it's a law I do believe.  You can't spend time in Wal-Mart without it being considered as shopping or slacking off.  You can kill 2 hours in Office Depot, call it "research" and still get paid for it.


I was comparison shopping our printer replacement.  


I am seeking the best price for #10 envelopes.  


My head is actually bigger than that fax machine, how DO they do that?

I squeed with delight when the home office approved me obtaining an OD charge card.  That $250 spending limit made my head explode with power!  Then the mailings began.  The Big Book of Office Supplies.  Special!  Sale!  Catalog.  FREE GIFT with your order!!  Coupons!!!  Precious, precious coupons.  Oh yeah baby, you know how momma likes it twenty per cent off.  MMMMmmmm  hmmmm!!  (Is it just me or did it get really hot in here?)

I had to buy something on the expensive side, potentially blowing my $250 limit through it's cheap little heart.  It was a mandatory purchase for the bossman and he and his credit card was out of town.  I knew I couldn't put it on my card without being rejected at the cash register.  But I told the lady who pays the bill and like the  mackin' pimp she is, she DOUBLED that credit limit with one sweet phone call.  OH.  HELLS.  YEAH!!

The coupons came more frequently.  Spend $50, take $10 off!  And like the pure evil of the big bad Pusher Man, they began to come in pairs, "And here's an extra one for your cute, thrifty friend."  As my eyes glazed over with red and white OD's, I was calling friends from nearby offices to make an Office Depot run with me.  "I'VE GOT COUPONS!!  I'LL BE THERE TO PICK YOU UP IN 5 MINUTES!!!"

I started rooting for Carl Edwards because OD was his sponsor.

You can even order online.  ON.  LINE.  I can sit at my desk, surfing Office Depot deals like I'm screening free porn.  I can scratch my butt while perusing inks and toners.  The store staff does not appreciate you scratching your butt in the middle of isle 12.  Not even if you're getting paid to do it.  Joy killers.

Today's trip necessitated out of being SHUNNED out of the free gift while trying to place my order online.  It was a sweet little insulated backpack with matching fleece blanket.  Perfect for all of that hiking and picnicking I do.  *snark*  I planned out my order, reaching the purchase requirement and was crushed when the backpack was sold out.  CRUSHED!!

Realizing my defeat, I backed my order down to what I truly needed and took the "stock up" stuff out of my online cart.  When I tried to check out, OD wanted $10 in shipping fees!  Hello, I have a coupon and I'm not going to WASTE it in shipping!!  (Like a smart pusher, the $100+ order is shipped free, next day.  Anything less expensive and you pay for it.)  Naturally, I deleted everything in the cart and decided to drive to the store.

See, besides the benefit of "time suck"...going to Office Depot fills other desires.  There's this guy that works there....hubba hubba!!  I noticed him years ago on a Wal-Mart trip (again with the WM, I'm such a rule follower!!) with his wife and kid.  He's very similar looking to my husband so yeah, this guy trips my trigger.  I mourned this man's hair cut just as I did my husband's.  (Why do the brown-skinned long-hairs always end up cutting off their hair?)  He's been working at OD for a while now.  Naturally, I look at him because why should men have all the ogle fun?

Today I didn't even think to look for him as I was still devastated by losing out on the backpack.  Fortunately, as I was waiting in the checkout line he walked around the corner and said, "Did you find everything you needed today, ma'am?"

Oh yes, Mr. Sexy Man, I found everything I needed today.  I have my envelopes, my adding machine tape, my free ruler and free cap erasers with $5 purchase.  I just felt you up with my eyes and I have a $10 off coupon.  I have everything I could need.

Have I mentioned lately that boys are dumb?

Teenage boys have NO CLUE.  I should be thankful they can wash their own ass and do their own laundry but clearly, I still have much to teach them.

Buy valentines, you must.

So Saturday is Valentines Day.  This doesn't mean a whole lot to me anymore as I consider the husband working a solid 40 per week and a paid mortgage a true expression of love.  To young teenage girls in lurve, Valentines Day has the potential to be a B.F.D.  Both of my boys currently date teenage girls.

Each evening this week, I would walk to their room and try to have a conversation.

Monday:

Me:  Boys, have you thought about Valentine's Day at all?  It's on Saturday.

Boys:  Why?

Tuesday:

Me:  Boys, have you thought about Valentine's Day at all?  It's on Saturday.

Boys:  Are we supposed to?

Wednesday:

Me:  Boys, have you thought about Valentine's Day at all?  It's on Saturday.

Boys:  I don't know!

Me:  Yes, clearly you don't know.

Thursday:

Borrowed One calls me at 3:45 wanting to go play basketball.  I told him that was fine but when you got home, we were going shopping for Valentine's Day.  He's down with it and Elder Spawn agrees as well.

So at 9:00 pm (PM!!) I load up two testosterone laden knuckle-dragging teenagers to Walmart.  And of course, the second we walk in the door, we see 40 people we know.  We make brief chit chat and I have to pull them away so we can get down to some bidness.

The boys start out in the special Valentine's area.  Nothing here but a bunch of cheap-ass stuffed animals and candy.  They seemed to be thrilled by this but Mama does not approve and I direct them to the jewelery department.

Usually the jewelery department is staffed by some not so friendly ladies.  Tonight, we are blessed to be hosted by the frutiest guy I've ever seen in Walmart.  He is wonderful:  kind, helpful and patient.  

ES can't remember if he's even SEEN his girlfriend's ears so of course he doesn't know if her ears are pierced.  BO finds a set of heart-shaped CZ's and his bling alarm goes off.  I'm feeling pretty "meh" about these but we agree to purchase and Fruity works on putting them in a nice box suitable for gift giving.  ES can't form an opinion on anything and gives up, wanting to walk back to the candy area.  I'm pretty "meh" on this idea as well.

I keep assuring the boys that I'm not trying to commit you to anything, over extend your relationship, etc.  But you are SO NOT going to do this half-assed.  Mama's not having it.

As we're walking dejectedly back to candy land I try once again to appeal to ES, "Are you sure you didn't see anything in the jewelry department?"  Poor ES is so confused and probably wishing lightening would strike his mother down so she would shut the hell up.  We walked back to jewelery to give it one more shot.

Fruity asks us exactly how much we're willing to spend and I submit to the $30 range.  Remember, it's not about being cheap.  I'm not trying to fluff up their relationship any more than it already is.  I don't want anything that screams I'M COMMITTED TO YOU FOREVER AND EVER.  I'm just trying to present you as a nice, thoughtful young man.

The only thing Fruity can offer us at that price is a 20" sterling silver necklace with a 1/10th of a carat in diamond chip/dust heart pendant.  Fruity puts extra emphasis on REAL DIAMONDS.  And in my head, after he says REAL DIAMONDS, I'm screaming, "AT WALMART!"  ES's eyes light up and we've found our gift!  We tell Fruity we're headed back to candy for some reinforcements and he says just come back when you're ready and I'll have your gifts ready to go.

So we've suffered a good 30 minutes in jewelry and it should take just a few minutes to complete our gift bonanza extravaganza, no?  Yeah.  NO.

I found a cute red bucket shaped tin with hearts for handles.  It would be nice to fill with small candies and the jewelery box.  Since I've been a teenage girl before, I could just imagine these girls would have that tin until they graduated from college.  Some small trinkets that a boy gave you are really hard to part with and usually can be converted to a useful purpose (even if said boy turns out to be a total dick).  Standing in that isle, I could see that tin being a pencil cup on a desk for a loooooooong time.  Because I think like a woman.  

You would have thought I was showing them an alien artifact from Remulac.  I tried to explain the concept of inserting goodies and the present and we had a small meltdown.  Right there.  In Walmart.  BO:  "I'm so confused!"  ES:  "What?  Me too!"  I can't think of any basketball or skateboarding terms to communicate to them any better so being mindful of the time we've already spent in here, I gave up.  I pointed to the Russell Stover heart-shaped $1 sampler box and said, "Just get one of those!"

The boys saw a bigger heart with chocolates that was also $1 and started to grab that one instead.  I lovingly (ok, maybe not lovingly but in a Dammit I'm so ready to get the hell out of here! way) point out that while that box may be bigger, the candy inside is shit compared to Russell Stover.  The point was well received by the young gents and they each went with the RS sampler.

On our way back to jewelery I asked BO if he wanted to trade up his CZ earrings to a diamond necklace as well and he eagerly agreed.  I felt bad because Fruity had our stuff cleaned up and ready in the really nice gift boxes and we changed our order.  I think Fruity approved of the upgrade though because he took just as much time, care and glee for our sake as we did in finally coming to a frakkn decision.

As we were getting into the car I told them I had some Valentine's gift wrap they could use, and in unison they whined:

We have to wrap it too??!!??

Dammit boys.  So. Much. To. Learn.

It's now 10:00 pm (PM!!) and on the drive home they both thanked me over and over again.  There was much discussion about being "lost" and "having no idea."  Then there was much talk about how the same trip would have gone down if the Husband would have taken them.  BO said they'd probably still be in electronics trying to pick something out.  And I'm thinking to myself, "Yep, you three would be there playing GAMES in electronics."

And if you'll excuse me, I'm off to track down my 10th grade boyfriend's mother.  After this experience, it's so clear to me now that even though HE presented me with the earrings for Valentine's Day, HIS MOTHER is the one who bought them.  I owe her a thank you card.

Boys are so dumb.

Role Model: FAIL!

"I want to thank God for somehow … I know he perfect. So I'mma thank him for everything. I'mma thank him for making me drop out of school. I'mma thank him for making me run the streets. I'mma thank him for making me sell crack. I'mma thank him for making me have shoot-outs. I'mma thank him for allowing me to watch my partners die in my arms, So I'd be fearful enough for my life and paranoid enough to go out and cop machine guns and silencers so I catch a fed case and I have to put up $3 million for my bond so I have to spend seven months of my life in my house, so I have to spend a year of my life in prison just so I be validated enough to get out there and touch the youth because they know that I done been through it, and if I say it, it means something. You know what I'm saying?"

- Rapper T.I. told revelers at the Hip Hop Inaugural Ball in D.C.

This dummy spouting this trash is why I'm so glad the borrowed one is with us.  He can blast that garbage coming out of the bedroom all day long...JUST DON'T YOU EVER, EVER EMULATE THIS DUDE.  At least the Husband and I are around to ride his ass like a monkey and say NO! NO!  BAD RAPPER.  

And don't even start the "I'm not a role model" talk.  The instant you play or sing that first note, take a part in a play, score a point, sleep with someone who can get you stuff - trust me, SOMEONE is watching you.  And wanting to be Just.  Like.  You.

Mr. T.I., nobody made you drop out of school.  Your parents/immediate family just didn't ride your ass like a monkey and MAKE YOU FINISH.  "Imma" suggest you go back and take a grammar lesson or twelve.

Nobody made you run the streets.  Your parents/immediate family just didn't ride your ass like a monkey and MAKE YOU COME HOME AT A DECENT HOUR AND BE ACCOUNTABLE FOR WHO YOU WERE RUNNING WITH.

Nobody made you sell crack.  You were too proud of your drop-out self to flip burgers at McDonald's and EARN money.  You didn't want The Man to ride your ass like a monkey.  You poisoned your own community to make instant money.  And lots of it.  Way to support your community!

Nobody made you participate in shoot-outs.  Slinging dope and running the streets as you pleased got you into some dark places.  Dark places have dark rules and darker consequences.  That would be why your partners died in your arms.  Thanks for showing enough care for your community to at least hold them while they died.

Of course, a cache of machine guns AND silencers are the best way to protect yourself.  Don't worry with security systems, security staff (real ones, not your strapped homies) and knowing how the law can protect you.  Especially now that you're rich and famous.  Real world rules don't apply to the rich and famous.

And you poor, poor dear.  You've spent most of last year locked up inside your house.  I'm sure your master bedroom has more square footage than my WHOLE ENTIRE HOUSE.  There's probably a stripper pole installed in your in-house bar/party area.  You must own at least one of every game system known to man, pool table, maybe a nice basketball court - my point is your house is no jail.  You were condemned to spend seven months in your own funhouse.  Life's a real bitch dude.  They should have made your home sentence to be in a shithole in the projects.

You still have to serve your one year in jail.  Federal prision, where you will serve at least 85% of your time so you'll likely be there 10 months.  I hope your warden and guards set you up somehow and you have to serve your full year IN PRISON.  There's no stripper pole in prison - unless your cellmate is BUBBA.  And I am SO HOPING your prision is just like OZ.  While you would be lucky that someone like Adebisi makes you his bitch, I'm hoping for something a little on the stronger side:  Vern Schillinger.  He'll make your butthole burn and set your brain on fire at the same time.

And Mr. T.I. said all of this while attending an even to celebrate the first black president's inauguration.  

I need some asprin before I bust a cap in someone's ass.

GAME ON SUCKA!!

The winter ping pong season has started.  Being a bit fluffy and allergic to most things known as "exercise" I dig the pong.  Pong makes me move, jump around, curse, sweat and think.  The crushing of small plastic balls with paddles is really good for a girl's (is ego appropriate here?) (let's settle for something nice instead) winter exercise needs.  

The husband and I play at the neighbors' house.  Our neighbors have the best toys.  There must be some kind of toy quality/quantity ratio that becomes greater the older you get - directionally proportionate to your children growing up and move out/away.  OH MAN!!!  I can't wait to have awesome toys too!  

The women got off to a good start, despite being R-U-S-T-Y.  We won the first night of play but haven't done too well since.  The ladies don't play as often as the men folk do.  The men compete often because that's what boys do ya' know?  The women usually have their bitch-asses in the kitchen making pies.  Or not.  

We usually play women versus men because it's more fun that way and there's no fighting afterwards - just gloating.  The men are rather husbandly about their wins, just enough gloat to say "We won!" (and Please don't poison our dinner because we did win, please!?) Wives show no mercy.  Copious amounts of gloating ensue if the women win.  Us women tend to go for the throat (or lower) when we win.  

I can't think of many things that are more gratifying than busting their collective asses so when the ladies do win, it's awesome.  And quite often, in the middle of a match, if we're winning - I can hear "FINISH HIM!" in my mind.  And I just go crazy.  I get full-on possessed by the pong demons.  Sometimes they let me win but sometimes they get all backed up in there and I beat myself with very bad and greedy plays.

January and February are pretty damn drab at the beach.  Coldest time of year (for the beach - it's a real bitch compared to Minnesota, or so I hear.  Ha!).  I'm so glad it's pong season so we don't go stir crazy!  So what are YOU going to do for the next two months?  

OMW: Jeopardy!

Today's prompt is:
If you were on the game show Jeopardy!, what interesting story would you tell to introduce yourself?

Alex: Welcome to the show Jocelyn. It says here that you're a Professional Man-Sitter. Can you please detail what that means?

Jocelyn: Well Alex, I am the office manager at my company's southeastern NC branch office. All our employees at this location are male. I'm also married and have three boys at home. So all day, all night (all long!) I am surrounded by men. The majority of these men act as if I'm they're mother and I must tend to their every whim, question and need. It's a good thing they pay me well.

Alex: Wow, that's a lot of time to be surrounded by men. What was your previous job?

Jocelyn: Previously I was a marketing manager for a real estate firm in a gated golf community.

Alex: That sounds luxurious and exciting.

Jocelyn: It is unless the office is full of bitchy hateful women and the big boss is a cunt.

Alex: You sound bitter, Jocelyn.

Jocelyn: Oh, I'm not bitter Alex. That "experience" was one of the greatest life-lessons I've ever lived thru.

Of course, I would never let Alex know that I once let a man convince me that I was not smart enough to take the contestant exam. The Jeopardy! team was in my neighboring big town and I let the bastard talk me out of going to try out. I was so stupid and weak back then. HRUMPH!

A few years later I did get brave and try out for WHEEL! OF! FORTUNE!! the last time Vanna was in her home-town for Sun Fun Festival. That was a ton of fun and I did get a call-back from them to take the real test.

The initial WOF event was a big rally-type thing. You just filled out a basic contestant questionnaire then they hauled everyone into the convention center hall and pulled random names out. I wasn't called up to the stage that day so I believe my call-back was purely rated by my last name. My maiden name is pretty unique. So unique the only other ones in the phone book are my relatives.

The call-back was in a small conference room and had about 50 folks in it. The chairs were lined up like audience chairs and we basically played a bunch of WOF puzzles. Then they busted out with the written test. The written test was HARD. Hard because it's WOF and you SEE these puzzles. Puzzles written out where you have to write in the answers instead of shouting at the TV screen made it difficult for me.

After we finished taking the written exams the day was considered over and as we were headed down the stairs an ambulance crew was headed up the stairs. A fellow try-out had a mild heart attack and had to be taken to the hospital!

Are you kidding me?

I received this email today. TODAY. On my freakin' BIRTHDAY.

I know that this comes as a great shock and this is probably the last thing that you need to deal with. There are several things that I have carried on my shoulders for quite some time and I would like for you to hear me out. I can completely understand if you do not want to waste your time at all. A small portion of your time just to listen would be greatly appreciated. Honestly, I know that you most assuredly would rather me fall of the face of the Earth forever and I have accepted this. I will completely honor the decision you make and if unfavorable, this will be the last that you will hear from me again. Correspondence through e-mail is fine but what needs to be said should be face to face.

Hmm....where to begin?

You're right Mr. Assface McAsshat, you're the LAST thing I would choose to deal with today. IT'S MY FREAKIN' BIRTHDAY, IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU, IT'S ABOUT ME!!! Dammit.

You want a favor from me? You want me to hear you out?? Let's see, the last time I tried to be nice to you I sent you a friendly birthday card thru the post office and you took it as a curse. But now, NOW you're asking me to pause from my life so that you can whine and cry about these burdens you've been carrying on your shoulders for all these years.

You mention talking to me but you make no mention of talking to my child, whom you scared the bejesus out of at our parting. You know, the one that involved the cops and a restraining order? What about him? Where's the apology to that sweet little boy? Oh, I forgot, it's all about YOU and what YOU need.

I most certainly do not wish for you to fall off the face of the Earth. I wish nothing for you, period.

You know, I heard about your little visit to our mutual friends' house and the apology over the pool stick. The pool stick that you broke about 8 years ago and were too much of a punk to say you were wrong and that you were sorry and you'd replace it when you lost the game (or shot). Eight. Years. Ago.

Fuck that.

I'm gonna go eat some cake, jerk.