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Guess who F*d up again
Grrr Arrrg.. I am so spiitting mad right now, I am barely able to spit the words out in complete and coherent sentences.
The fucking ratbastard (and I appologize to any out of wedlock rodents that insults. Calling him a rat IS and insult to rodents everywhere) ex, I could just do something I know I would regret later. I don't know where to start.
Drama drama more drama. I am so bloody freaking sick of all the drama. First he decided to make me clean up my room by dumping all my drawers out. Anyone who has spent any time with me, knows I am very very protective and territorial about my stuff.(territorial to the point of boderline OCD, though I don't have to have things in specific places, as a rule, I just can't tolerate anyone but me messing with them, unless I say they can). There are certain things of mine, that go in certain places and when you touch them, I will be guaranteed to go completely and utterly ballistic. My personal space is off limits to all. So of course I went postal on his worthless ass. (Did he really think I wouldn't. nobody capable of speaking could be that inanely stupid to think I wouldn't. This man has known me for 10 years. He knows very well that I go well beyond angery if my space is invaded.).
So of course that leads to WWWIII and a half. Then After the dust settles from that, and he takes off after the neighbors got concerned. I find out from my nine year old of all people, that he is preparing to leave town with Whip (no shiting folks, that is the guys real name), because there is a warrent for him, and he will be in jail for six months. Can you believe this shit.
Warren doesn't want his dad here, but he also doesn't want him in jail, as he loves his dad. And I will give Mike credit he does love his son, even if he never learned that it takes more than a working sperm factory to make you a father. It takes being a mature responsible adult, who is capable of putting the child's best interest ahead of what you like and want. It means you don't take your son't hard earned lawn mowing money because you are jonsing for a cigarette or ran out of beer. It means respecting his mother who is bending over backwards and trying to stretch every dollar into three just to keep a roof and electricty. While he quits job after job, because reporting to work and having to follow someone else's rules is just too much effort.
I am amazed I am this calm. A couple hours ago, I was so angry, I think I scared myself. I think six months in jail would be just what Mike needs. It would break Warren's heart, but I would bask in the glow, that fuckwad is someplace where he can't come near me, and where he is under someone else's control 24x7. It would give me enough time to toss and or sell his crap, and take steps to ensure he never come near me again. He steps foot near this house, and the cops will come, and I will personally ensure that he will never again need to worry if his future girlfriends use birthcontrol.
The previous entry was brought to you, by the letter R for Rage, and the number 1138, just beccause I like it.
Prequels ~ Sequels
Music of the mind: :
~*~Have you read these~*~
~ Ode to a child who is no more ~
~ She's baaack ~
~ testing ~
~ Facebook me ~
~ Bleech ~
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In every neighborhood there is at least one house that all the neighbors gossip about. This is a diary from the woman who lives in that house. I am a single mother in her mid thirties. I live in North Dakota with my son, Warren.
I tend to be a bit of a slob, and am the opposite of a girly-girl. I am geek girl, who loves Star Wars, Star Trek, Harry Potter, Buffy, Angel, action movies, science fiction, action adventure, Dr. Who, and so on and so on.
I love to write and while I don't post much fiction online anymore I would love to be a writer someday. I am also overweight, bipolar and suffer from allergy induced asthma.