That Time When My Give-A-Damn Broke

July 2014

I know. I know. I’m a bitch. What else is new? Everyone outside of my husband’s immediate family seems to think I’m wonderful; they all tell me they’re going to miss me so much. Then again, they don’t know the whore. Perhaps if they did they would realize how she outshines me, how my brightness tarnishes under the glowing rays of sunshine that shoot out of her ass.

I digress.

My MIL called me tonight. Twice. Left a message. FIL had surgery. He’s ok but he had a hard time of it today. Question #1 Why are you contacting me with an update? Do you not have a son with whom you can communicate? Question #2 Why do you think I care? Not my circus, not my monkeys. You decided Harley was more important than me. You decided you couldn’t live without the whore in your lives. So maybe you should get on the phone and give your son’s whore the updates. Because his wife? Doesn’t care anymore.

Don’t get me wrong. I wish no ill on any of them, but it’s beyond my capabilities to give a flying fuck about what’s going on.

Besides, good ol’ Harley was there immediately, wishing him well, hoping he got better, and assuring him of her love. See? They have all they need. Surely they must see how messy it would be if both the whore *and* the wife were involved.

And the band plays on.

 

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