A Quick & Easy Recipe

I like to make this one when I’m short on time.  I found this one on a website called 5 Dinners In 1 Hour.  The basic premise is you make 5 dinners once a week, in an hour, and then you don’t need to cook for the rest of the week.  Handy!  I liked some of the recipes (the Slow Cooker Shepherd’s Pie is to die for!) but I never actually did the 5 dinners all prepared and cooked later.  The closest I came to that was when I went to Florida with my mom and prepared a week’s worth of meals for Cousinfucker and my kids.  Funny thing about that?  I don’t think I used a single one of their recipes.

This is another one that everyone in the family will eat.  Plus, as I mentioned above it is pretty quick to make- maybe 20 minutes to prep and cook total.  If you marinate the meat the night before it will be 5-10 minutes before your food is on the table!

Broiled Steak Bites

Ingredients:

2 lbs. sirloin steak

1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce

1 cup Italian salad dressing

2 tsp. Montreal steak seasoning

1 cup BBQ sauce

Directions:

  1. Cut sirloin in bite sized cubes
  2. Add next 4 ingredients and stir to combine
  3. Broil for 5-10 minutes on a foil lined broiler tray.

Notes:  I have found that there is tons of the marinade so if you want or need to increase the amount of meat you use you should be fine.  The recipe doesn’t call for the meat to be marinaded but it won’t hurt it if you choose to do so either; this was a recipe for a make ahead meal after all.  Also, feel free to use different marinades if this one doesn’t strike your fancy.  Cutting the meat up into bite sized pieces is what allows it to cook so quickly so once you’ve got that very important part down you can do whatever you want as far as seasonings and flavors.

When Bad Things Happen to Bad People

February 2014

The whore slid off the road and into a ditch back in January. What can I say? Sometimes bad things happen to bad people who do bad things. Maybe she’s an ok person (oh my God, that’s so funny typing that) who did a bad thing and that’s why she didn’t actually crash. Eh, don’t really care. Her bad thing was directed at me so I really don’t give a flying fuck about what a great friend or relative she may be. I don’t give a shit if she saves homeless pets and works at a soup kitchen and donates 50% of her salary to the poor. Do.not.care about her acts of service to others. I care about her manipulative, deceptive acts directed towards me and the fact she was sexting with and sending naked pictures to my husband all summer. Karma’s a bitch!

 

Why I’m a Pessimist

This may come as a surprise to most of you who have been reading along these past six months but I am generally a fairly happy person.  I do my best to look for the silver lining and to try to focus on the positive.  As many of you also probably know experiencing infidelity and going through a divorce sucks ass and it’s really hard to be positive.

I have tried to keep my chin up through this.  Hell, I’ve been trying to keep my damn chin up since I moved here to Whoreville less than two years ago.  This move was tough and it has not been easy finding my footing.  Add in the fact that CF was whining about his job and how unhappy he was with it no more than six weeks after the kids and I got here and you could stand by and watch me pull my hair out. I wish I could say that was the worst of it but it wasn’t. He began his downward spiral less than six months after we moved here.  He missed more work in the time that he was here than he ever had combined in the previous twenty years.  He was hospitalized with dehydration in January, hospitalized again in February, and had cluster headaches for the first time in about three years in March or April.  He began drinking to excess.  He once again shut himself up in the bedroom and isolated himself from everyone else in the family. He claimed he couldn’t sleep but whenever I would check up on him I found him sleeping in the bed. Of course, because he was unconscious when I came by and I wasn’t an asshole that would wake him up to let him know I had been upstairs checking on him, he told everyone I just left him upstairs all by himself to cry. I told him I would cancel the pool contract but he insisted I get my pool as he promised.  We couldn’t have a family outing without him breaking down and crying.  I finally broke down and made an appointment with a psychiatrist for him because he refused to do it.  I found someone who did EMDR therapy in our area and made an appointment for him.  I accompanied him to both appointments. I did most of the talking at the therapist’s office while he sat there.  I offered to cancel my trip back out west to see our friends. I watched him refuse to continue on with counseling or EMDR therapy (of course, he was fucking a whore so he was cured!). After all of that I find out he’s once again cheating on me.

I tried so hard to be happy here, to continue on, to prop him up and make sure our family was happy.  For what?  Absolutely nothing.  My daughter put in two years at her high school, fell in love with it here, and is now being forced to finish out her last two years elsewhere.  Just as my son finally begins fitting in he, too, is yanked away and has to start over.  As for me?  Well, I came back from our trip last summer renewed and refreshed, ready to tackle everything. I was going to get involved and get busy and finally fit in. The joke was on me because he had already replaced me.

I’m sure you appreciate the background; however, that’s not the real point of why I’m a pessimist.  I’m a pessimist because I can’t let myself be convinced that the future is going to be happy and amazing and all this pain is worth it.  Stick with me here.

I could go into all of this with a can-do attitude.  But let’s face it.  Every time I’ve had any kind of a plan that jackass I married comes along and kicks my feet out from underneath me.  Oh, you were counting on money from the stocks I’ve received while we were married?  Ha ha ha- NO!  I’m going to quit my job and leave all of that behind.  Too bad, so sad.  Oh, you’re going to try to stay here until Rock Star graduates?  How’s about I lose my next job and then refuse to get another one?  How does that sound?  You’re going to look for a job right around the time Rock Star begins driving?  Oh, Sam, you stupid bitch!  I’ve got a plan to knock you right on your ass.  I’m not going to work.  I’m not going to send you money.  I’m going to make you run home and screw up our kids’ lives once again!  The bottom line seems to be that no matter what plans I make and no matter how happy of a face I put on he finds a way to come along and ruin it.

So, I’m just going with it.  I refuse to put a positive spin on this.  It is far easier to think that moving in with my mom after not living with her for over twenty years is going to be a disaster. It is far easier to think that having two teenagers and three dogs moving in with her when she’s been living without kids for more than twenty years is not going to be pleasant.  I’m not going to pretend that losing everything I own is not going to hurt and will somehow be a freeing experience.  I will not automatically assume that my daughter is going to fit in and have a great time at her new school.  I’m not going to believe that she will make new friends and have just as active of a social life there as she’s had here.  I don’t worry as much about Picasso but I don’t automatically assume that everything is going to be wonderful for him either.  I refuse to believe that I will get an amazing job that I really like and that pays me good money.  It is easier to believe that I will live in poverty and my children will never have anything nice again. I won’t assume that we will find a new church and we will make new friends and get involved. I harbor no expectations that there is someone out there for me and that this divorce will lead to the love of my life. I’m not even believing anymore that CF will end up having to pay me spousal or child support. Even if he’s ordered to who is to say he will actually pay it?  I am keeping my expectations at zero. I am prepared to be poor and miserable for the rest of my life.  I am ready to hear my kids tell me they hate it in our new town and they have no friends. I am ready for and expecting the worst.

Does this mean that this is what I’m hoping for?  Of course not.  But it’s far easier to believe that things are going to be horrible and then perhaps be pleasantly surprised, than it is to keep telling yourself that everything is going to be ok and then you keep getting punched in the face.  I would rather be prepared for my kids to hate it where we’re going and for them to not fit in and be sad, depressed, upset, whatever and then be proven wrong rather than to tell them and myself that everything is going to be great!  Only to have it collapse around your feet.  Kinda like the way I swore that this move to Whoreville was going to be a great move.  We’d get a pool and a hot tub and a trampoline.  They’d love living here.  It would be a brand new life, a brand new adventure and this move would be fantastic for our whole family’s future. My son would have a bigger room. The kids would have separate bathrooms. Maybe we would live in the country with an acre or two. We’d have family dinners and because Dad was so much happier we would do more things as a family. We could explore DC and NYC. Life would be great.  I.LIED.TO.MY.KIDS!  This move was the worst decision of my life.  I’m done blowing smoke up people’s asses.  I’m done lying to myself.  Expect the worst and then you’re never disappointed.

My mom tells me to stop borrowing trouble and I’m sure it’s not easy on her to see me in such a funk for so long.  But this is the way it’s got to be.  It’s so much easier to not expect anything.  Either my expectations come true and I’m no worse for wear because I expected things to be absolute shit, or it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.  Believing that things are going to be great and then having that not pan out is excruciating.  It’s like death by a thousand paper cuts. I remain a pessimist to protect myself.  I’m open to good things happening but I don’t count on it.  Unfortunately, right now that’s just the way it has to be.

70%

A statistic that men’s rights groups like to hustle out is this: Women file for divorce 70% of the time.  I say:  So what?  That percentage says nothing about *why* the woman is filing for divorce. Isn’t that the whole point of cake eating?  They want their wife and their girlfriend, too.  It’s a little hard to have that when you, the cheater, file for divorce from your wife.  Divorce is hard.  It’s yucky.  And it takes away from that awesome little fantasy the cheater has going on his head.  Divorce is reality and most cheaters don’t do reality well.

I filed for divorce.  Because my husband was fucking his cousin!  He had also cashed in the last bit of stock he had and wired it to a secret account, I found out he had been giving thousands of dollars to Harley, and bought her and her daughter new iPhones and was paying the cell service bill. He was also interviewing for a job out of state that weekend before I filed.  I didn’t feel like I really had a choice.  I’m not really sure what his plans were.  Maybe he figured he could keep pulling the wool over my eyes and get all of his ducks lined up.  Perhaps he was waiting until I paid off the pool so I would be completely at his mercy.  It’s possible he was going to act like everything was fine, keep lying to me about where he was going every or every other weekend, and then walk out the door once he had another job.  I wasn’t willing to stick around and find out.  I needed to protect myself and my kids.

I knew of a woman on another Internet forum who filed for divorce from her husband.  He’d had a child with his mistress and she had waited almost four years for him to file. She says to this day, probably ten years later, that she believes they would still be married if she hadn’t initiated the divorce.  He was perfectly content remaining married to her while he spent time with the OW and their shared child.

I’m NOT saying that women can’t be just as manipulative and duplicitous as men when it comes to affairs.  Hell, I’ve known Jezebel for over twenty years.  I have living proof right in front of my eyes!  But looking at who filed for divorce first really tells you nothing.

Seeing the Sun During a Cloudy Two Weeks

I’m sure it’s not news to anyone who regularly reads my blog that these past two weeks have not been pleasant.  I’ve cried and cried and clung desperately to my old life before finally dropping the rope.  I’ve tried to keep things relatively sane for my kids while this has all been going on.  I cry in the shower or in my bedroom or in the car so that they don’t see this.

Last week in keeping with my “try to fool them into believing everything’s going to be okay” routine we ventured into DC.  My kids’ third grade teacher and another teacher from the same school headed out my way on vacation so we met up with them and toured some of the sites.

First up, after my disastrous experience with parking for the baseball game I decided we would catch the Metro into DC instead of driving.  It made the trip longer but it was a fun experience.  Also, the Metro has a handy little feature where you can plug in your departure point and your destination and it will give you directions on how to get there, if you need to switch lines, and where you disembark.  It was fantastic!  I felt like we were regulars.  We bought SmartCards and everything.

After we met up with them we headed over to the White House.  Funny story.  We were walking along and I’m seeing the Commerce Building, the IRS building, the Red Cross headquarters, the FDIC, the Treasury building.  I’m marveling at all of this.  You hear about all of these things but seeing it up close and personal is something all together different.  As we’re walking along I notice Secret Service policemen.  At first I’m thinking, “Well, they’re not very secret.  I can see them right there.”  My second thought was, “They’ve got Secret Service guarding the Treasury Building?”  I never realized it was so dangerous.  We continue walking and the next thing I know there are barriers and even more Secret Service police.  More walking and I realize the street is closed.  Live music is playing; someone is singing an Adele song and she’s really good.  I’m wondering, “Why are there barriers all around here?  Why are there so many Secret Service police out?  Does the Treasury Building really need that much protection?  Why is this street closed off and why are these people milling around?”  I look up and notice the White House.  Oh!  Well, that explains so much.

We were starving at this point so we continued walking.  We decided upon a grilled cheese bar aptly named GCDC.  Picasso and I opted to build our own.  I’m not sure what all he put on his but I know he chose pepper jack cheese and hot sauce.  I made mine with American and mozzarella cheese, roast beef, spinach, tomato, and their house sauce which was a blend of chili paste, mayo, and honey mustard.  It definitely had a little bit of a kick to it!  Rock Star went with the mac and cheese.

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Next up was a walking tour of the monuments. I have only been to DC twice- three times if you count the time we drove up for the baseball game and then promptly turned around because I couldn’t find parking.  The first time I went was on Picasso’s field trip.  We tried to cram everything in but couldn’t so on that trip I only managed to see the WWII Memorial, the Lincoln Memorial, and then the Korean Memorial and Vietnam Wall.  This time though we were determined to see them all! We headed over to the Jefferson Memorial first.  It was quite the walk.  It’s not right on the mall like so many of the others and it’s definitely smaller than the Lincoln Memorial although they are very similar.

From there we headed over to the Roosevelt Memorial.  I have to say, I think this was probably my favorite.  I knew there was a Roosevelt Memorial but they never show pictures of it the way they do with the other more popular monuments.  They really should because it is absolutely beautiful.  And large.  Very large.  There are lots of waterfalls, statues and quotes.  They have it divided up by his presidential terms.  I think this is one that doesn’t get a lot of traffic because it is off the beaten path.  It’s so worth it though.  If you’re ever in DC make sure to take a stroll around it; you won’t regret it.

After that we went to the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial.  The main feature here is the incredibly detailed statue of MLK himself.  There are also plenty of his quotes engraved in stone.

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Next we headed over to the Lincoln Memorial.  We didn’t stay very long.  It was crowded and the city was hot and humid.  We posed in front of the Lincoln statue and that was that!

We headed over to the Korean Memorial.  I’m sure I saw it on Picasso’s class field trip but this time around, since I wasn’t rushed, I really enjoyed it.  There are statues of soldiers in a garden as you walk up and there is a black onyx (?) wall like the one that makes up the Vietnam Wall except this one isn’t engraved with names; instead it showcases faces and scenes.  There is also a beautiful pond surrounded by a canopy of well maintained trees.  It is very beautiful and very serene.

From there we headed over to the Vietnam Memorial.  I am perpetually in awe of that wall.  It seems to stretch on forever and it is covered with the names of the dead.  It is a very somber experience walking along, seeing all of those names and the tributes left behind for loved ones.

We never went up to the Washington Monument but you can see it all over the city.  Then we had to choose between heading over to the WWII Memorial to see it more closely, or heading over to Arlington Cemetery.  For some crazy reason, despite the fact that our feet were already killing us, we chose to walk over to Arlington.

It was well worth it.  First of all, they are beautiful grounds.  Surprisingly, not all the headstones are like you see in the movies and magazines.  Picasso and I figured out that the higher ranking people have custom headstones and are typically in a different part of the cemetery.  Some of the highlights of our visit were seeing the eternal flame and JKF’s grave site, visiting the tomb of the unknown soldier and watching the changing of the guard, and seeing the memorial markers they set out for the astronauts that perished in the two space shuttle disasters and the marker for those who died trying to rescue the Iranian hostages.

We ended up walking 18,000 steps that day!  Exhausted, we headed back to the Metro which was just outside Arlington.  Thank God!

It was a great day and really kept my mind off of CF and all his antics.

My second little ray of sunshine was simply a trip out to eat.  Rock Star wanted to try this new Japanese restaurant that we have in town.  I have ordered sushi from them and haven’t been disappointed.  They also have an all you can eat option for dining in.  Unlike buffets where the food sits out waiting for someone to come along and decide to put it on a plate, they take your order and make everything once someone requests it.  Both of my kids started off with the clear soup.  I swear, between the two of them I think they had 10 bowls of it!  Rock Star went on to order the Hibachi steak and Picasso opted for the chicken fried rice.  I got a rainbow roll and some shrimp fried rice.  I think Picasso might have a hollow leg because I’m pretty sure he had two helpings of the shrimp fried rice, about 6 bowls of the soup, 3 slices of cheesecake, and 5 pieces of salmon sushi.  Maybe if he had chosen to eat one of the more filling entrees… I had to laugh at him one time when he ordered a bowl of clear soup and a slice of cheesecake.  I thought it was the funniest thing I had heard.

Rock Star had a slice or two of cheesecake, more clear soup, and an additional rainbow roll which she asked me to help her eat.  I myself ordered the Hibachi steak and shrimp, which came with more fried rice and vegetables.

It was a really good, filling meal.  Neither Rock Star nor I had anything else to eat the rest of the day.  Plus, I thought it was very reasonably priced.  A single sushi roll can cost anywhere between $10 and $12 and this was $11 for all you could eat.  Picasso definitely got his money’s worth and I feel like Rock Star and I did as well.

There you have it.  My two rays of sunshine in two weeks of cloudy tear filled days- a trip to DC and an outing to a restaurant.  A whole lot of knowledge and a whole lot of food.

Suck It, Cheater Boy!

I.Am.Done!  I have cried every day for the last two weeks.  Neither Cousinfucker nor anybody in his dysfunctional, fucked up family have given me the courtesy of letting me in on what the hell was going on with him.  I finally got a message from his lawyer to mine letting her know that “someone on his behalf” let her know that he was going to be occupied three days a week for four hours at a time and no one knew how many weeks or months that may be.  OK, that news for some reason sent me into a fresh round of tears.  Why?  I do not know.  I pretty much figured this was going to be the game he played so I have no idea why it hit me so hard.  But it did.  Once again I was hit with the realization that he doesn’t ever plan to step up to the plate.

So today I woke up feisty.  I decided I am just not taking it anymore.  I’m going to insist that my lawyer fight til the death for every.damn.cent that sonofabitch should be paying me.  I don’t give a shit if I’m confiscating tax returns for the next 20 years.  If he’s going to play this “woe is me; I can’t hold a steady job after 20 years of doing so and 15 years of earning 6 figures” well, then, I’m going to make sure he doesn’t make a single red cent and he go back to being the poor white trash he started out as.  If I have nothing else I have the ability to financially ruin him.  If he’s not going to pay me anyway that’s exactly what I will do.  I want my arrears.  I want my half of the money he spent on the whore.  I want my share of the stock he walked away from. I want him to have to pay the difference between what I should have had to pay for medical bills and what I did have to pay because of him switching jobs.  I want him to have to pay for the prescriptions, too.  I want to be reimbursed for the damn car insurance I’ve paid on his behalf these last 6 months.  I’m not going to give him any breaks.  He doesn’t deserve them.

That brings me to my next point and the second reason I am beyond done with this asswipe.  Seems that my poor traumatized hubby is not so traumatized that he can’t inform our insurance company that we are divorcing and he is taking me off of the policy when it expires later this summer.  He was also up for letting them know that he was no longer in the house and that I would be remaining here; therefore, I needed to get the home owner’s insurance policy put into my name.

Joke’s on him!  I’m NOT staying here and they aren’t putting the policy in my name.  I even contacted my lawyer and she told me to let him know that he needed to insure the house because it was his debt, and his alone.  Ha!  Suck it, Cousinfucker!

He also told the agent that I was responsible for paying the insurance bill for both of our cars.  I had closed our joint checking account and I wanted to see if that had been paid.  Of course it hadn’t!  I paid my share and I was even generous enough to pay the fee because the payment had been declined by our bank.  But I told her they could send him a bill for his insurance.  You know why?  Because I don’t owe it to him to pay that.  It wasn’t one of the specific bills that I was ordered to pay and even if it had been that is all contingent on HIM paying ME.  He’s not; therefore, I’m not. He’s so fucking arrogant that he honestly believes I should be draining my account in order to pay all of the household bills.  His money is for him and for the whore and her kids.  Again, I say, “Suck it, Cousinfucker!”

Ramblings of a Mad Woman

I’m not really a mad woman.  More like a sad woman.  I’ve been trying to figure out why it is that this move is hitting me so hard.  I don’t even like it here!  Don’t get me wrong.  It’s beautiful here.  There is a quaint charm to it with all its farmland and rolling hills.  I have a few friends here and the people I’ve encountered have been very nice.  But it’s so much smaller than anyplace I’ve lived in years and years.  Our mall is a joke.  You can stand at one end and see the other end.  You don’t even have to squint.  And I’m not a big mall person!  I think the biggest claim to fame for the mall is The Tilted Kilt.  Fortunately, I’ve heard rumors that an H&M is coming and they have a Forever 21 popup in the mall right now.  The other big news is that they are getting an Olive Garden finally!  So yeah, small town living.

I spent years passing by the high school in our former state, thinking that’s where my kids would go.  It was a huge school with a student population of probably 2700 students, grades 10-12.  I mourned the fact that Rock Star wouldn’t get to go to that school with so many opportunities but it turned out her own little rural school had a lot of amazing opportunities as well.  They had a gymnastics team!  That was a huge plus.  She was able to take Driver’s Ed as a class her sophomore year.  Picasso took Hunter Safety one year in Health class.  Rock Star took ag bio and helped raise a calf.  She’s certified in something because of this.  And they offered dual enrollment programs without it being a special program.  She was very close to one of the teachers and thought most of the teachers at her high school were very good and cared about their students.  The principal knew her by name. She feels like she is getting a quality education here and she loves her little high school.

Obviously, one of the reasons this is so hard on me is because of what I think it’s going to do to my kids.  I worry about them.  They are taking all of this so well though.  I thought Rock Star was going to be a mess but just the other day she was telling me she thought we should move regardless of whether or not her dad got another job.  She said that although she’ll miss her new boyfriend she realizes he is a high school boyfriend and it probably wouldn’t have lasted.  She’ll miss her friends but she has decided the purpose of high school is to get an education so maybe she won’t even bother with trying to fit in.  The only thing she says she worries about is who she’ll sit with on that first day of school.

Picasso hasn’t said much but then again he was always the one who said he didn’t mind moving.

So, I guess it’s just me who’s having a hard time and I keep trying to figure out why that is.  I guess maybe it’s just all these transitions.  I’m tired of them.  When I was first married we moved 3 times in 6 years. One year in the city where we met and married.  Two and a half years in the next city.  Two and a half years in the next one.  I got used to it and then we started staying put.  Six years in one location.  Eight in the next.  I never thought I’d be leaving so soon. I didn’t necessarily like it here but I poured my heart and soul into it. I bought furniture for this house. I decorated. I turned it into a home. I put a pool in my backyard. I encouraged my kids to get involved. I went to football games. I chauffeured Rock Star around. I met their friends and had them over to our house. I have routes that are familiar to me and sights that I love. I thought I would be hosting holidays here in my new, spacious home now that we were closer. I thought this was the house that my kids would return to when home on break from college and when they visited after they staked out lives of their own.  I thought my grandkids would swim in my pool and spend holidays here. And now it’s all over and I have to begin anew.

Maybe it’s the fact that I never thought I’d be returning home, especially not with my tail between my legs, utterly defeated by my incredibly stupid life choices.  Now I get to pass by the church where we were married.  I get to pass by the apartments we lived in while we were engaged and first married.  I get to pass by the very first house we ever bought. It will no longer be a happy, “Look kids!  That’s where your dad and I got married!” or “Do you want to drive by our very first house?” Instead I will go out of my way to avoid those places and if I can’t avoid them then I will do my best to avert my eyes so I don’t have to see them.

I’m slowly coming around.  I’ll get a job.  My kids will make new friends.  I’ll probably still be poor and that’s really going to suck.  Maybe I’ll surprise myself and find a well paying job with lots of benefits.  Maybe the judge won’t fall for Cousinfucker’s ruse and he’ll hand him his ass.  That would be fantastic!  Life would actually be pretty damn great if that happened.  I suppose for now I continue to ride this roller coaster and trust that in the end everything will work out for the best.

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