After The Move

This is actually a bit of a misnomer seeing as how we moved a few entries ago. I wanted to differentiate though because this was supposed to be the fresh start. This was supposed to make him happy and all of our troubles were supposed to go away.

These Blasts From the Past don’t seem to be read as much as my other stuff but if you’ve read this far and you’re one of those who normally skip over anything from my past I will tell you that from this point forward most of my musings are much more philosophical. They are more like normal blog entries would be. I examine what it means to move forward after adultery rocks your marriage. I apparently didn’t do a very good job because he cheated on me again.

The other thing I would point out is the irony surrounding everything I wrote back then. It is stunning everything I endured and put up with while trying to right this wreck. 

If you choose to read these next Blasts From the Past you will get to come along on my journey through Hell while my husband slowly spiraled out of control and I kept trying to hold everything together.

August 2014

My one year anti-versary came and went. The house was full of family and I was busy unpacking so I didn’t dwell on it. The whore didn’t contact me. I have to say I’m a bit surprised but she may be too busy wrecking someone else’s life to remember to contact me and let me know what a great love they shared.

My husband is not doing well. His anxiety is terrible. He worries that he has ruined all of our lives. Makes it hard for me to throw a tantrum and cry and tell him how much I hate it here. And I just keep thinking, “You’d better get it together. We moved because you said you were miserable and wanted to be closer to your family. This new town reminded you of your home state. So get with the program. You could have been miserable out in our former state and I would have been perfectly happy. No use in both of us being miserable. Get help!” It’s so frustrating. And I always start to wonder if he’s so anxious because he’s starting to crack under the pressure of carrying on his double life with Harley. I know. I shouldn’t. But I do. I don’t know if that will ever go away. I hope it does.

I’ve been busy buying new furniture. I bought a pie safe. Yeah, I know. What the hell is a pie safe? Whatever it is it was $800! That will go in the dining room. I spent almost $200 on bar stools, $150 on a cabinet for the laundry room, and just over $5000 on new furniture for the family room and formal living room. New sectional, coffee table, end table, sofa table, couch, and chair. And then I turned around and spent $1000 at Target. It was about half new tv and half back to school supplies and clothes, although there was a new trash can and two floor mats in there as well. I got tired of going out for stuff we needed for the house.

Present Day Sam Says: I look back on all of this and I am just amazed at how naive I am in these posts. I’m going out blithely spending money to decorate and furnish our new home. I had no idea that a year later everything would fall completely apart.

Always spackling as well. Poor Cousinfucker isn’t doing well but I can’t let him know my true feelings because it might upset him. Let’s continue to give him the benefit of the doubt. We can’t continue to “punish” the poor dear. He’s so helpless and anxiety ridden.

My Bitch List, Part 1

Talking with my mom and looking back with wide open eyes I am astounded at how much shit I put up with.  Things that were commonplace to me are absurd to casual bystanders. I decided to break this up into a few parts because there is just so much insanity. In his defense we were together 21 years so I’m sure most couples with a 21 year relationship could probably come up with a long list of complaints.

I tried my best to put it into chronological order but it’s not perfect. We may go back in time once or twice. I will warn you that most of the really juicy stuff will come in the later parts. Today’s edition is mainly stupid things I did in my quest to be the perfect wife.

So, take a trip back to the 1990s, pretend you’re watching Seinfeld and that Festivus is a real holiday. Here is my “Airing of Grievances” (and stupid things I did):

    • I think this was 2 days before the wedding (not that it matters) but one night I was asking him what he wanted to eat.  He couldn’t decide between smoked sausage or spaghetti (hmmm.… I’m sensing a theme here). Me, being the adoring fiancee, future dutiful wife, I told him no problem- I would make both! And I did. Here’s your spaghetti with a side of smoked sausage! Don’t you just want to puke?
    • I remember before we were even married having a fight about sex and making a mental note to myself to never reject his advances because of his tantrum.  How fucked up is that?
    • I remember him criticizing me for walking around naked and him accusing me of being a nymphomaniac.  It’s really funny when I look back on it because now he would complain that I have serious body issues (the problems that come from being thin until your mid-20s and then ballooning up to over 200 pounds after 2 pregnancies) and no interest in sex.
    • When we were dating and living together (we had a very short relationship before marriage) the man did more cleaning than I did.  He put away laundry.  He did laundry!  He would wash dishes.  He was amazing.  He even cooked.  He had show towels!  Once we got married he couldn’t put a frozen pizza in the oven.  Seriously.  He would ask me to make him a pizza.  And I did it!  Hell, I cut it up and put it on a plate for him and then served it to him.
    • Going solidly down the stupid path:  I remember one day when I was going to work overtime I got the house clean, made him his favorite casserole, and made Rice Krispie Treats before leaving for work so that he would have dinner to come home to.  Did I mention I was working 12 hours that day?  I was so proud of myself and what a good little wife I was.  Puke!
    • More stupidity:  We both worked second shift when we were first married so we got home a little after 11, most nights.  He was installing a ceiling fan, I think, and I asked him if he was hungry.  No, he tells me.  I lay down on the couch while he’s working and I start to fall asleep.  Just as I’m ready to pick my weary body up and head upstairs he tells me, “I’ll take that dinner now.”  Instead of telling him what I should have told him, which was, “Too late.  I’m going to bed!” I made him pork chops, potatoes, and a vegetable.  At 1:00 in the fucking morning. I am an awesome wife no matter what he says!
    • I don’t know if I should be more astounded at him asking me, while I was at work, what there was to eat at home, or by the fact that I actually knew and could tell him
    • I won’t classify this as something stupid I did or something shitty he did.  It simply made me think.  I could tell you dozens of stories about him and his high school and college days.  He never really wanted to know about mine.  He said in the beginning it was because it probably included guys that I slept with and he didn’t want to hear about that.  I seriously doubt he knows I won Best Actress in high school.  I don’t think he knows I dropped out of college my last semester and went back a few months later.  He has no idea the kind of things that my friends and I did back in my high school or during my college days.  But I heard nonstop about his- his full ride scholarship for pre-med, him being drafted by a professional baseball team, football and baseball team captain, class President and valedictorian.  Stories of him and his friends at East Dull.  I never even thought about it until recently.  And the funny part is for people who know us I’m sure they would say I am the gregarious one, while he is quiet and remote.  Yet, he always managed to take center stage in our marriage/lives.
    • This probably doesn’t really belong on the list but hey, it’s my list!  Early on in our marriage, like in year 2, a bat got into the house we were renting.  I was the one that finally got the damn thing out of the house.  He was a chicken shit.  As my best friend said, “Wow, it’s at times like that that I could really use a husband.  Or, I guess a wife.”
    • I almost stepped on a snake in our garage years later; I HATE snakes! Turns out I was married to one!  I call him up at work, freaking out.  His reply?  “It’s not poisonous.”  Really, Motherfucker?  How long have we been married and you think my concern is that the damn thing might be poisonous? Of course he wouldn’t offer to come home or even offer up a little bit of sympathy! Oh no! He had a very important job and was a very important person.

Oh, Tammy Faye…

I found out this morning that Pastor Fake tagged my daughter in her father’s pathetic Thanksgiving message post. She in turn showed her brother. Neither were impressed. Neither replied. I have to admit sometimes I wish one of them would.

Then I find out that good ol’ Tammy Faye wrote her own Thanksgiving missive. She misses her and she wishes she could see them.

Oh, Tammy Faye, you chose your son and the whore and her kids months ago. Nay, over a year ago! You encouraged that dick sucking slut to call him in the hopes of rekindling their affair. You blew your grandchildren’s lives apart. And now you’re bemoaning the fact that you don’t see them? You are such a stupid bitch.

Did it never occur to you that you saw your grandchildren because I went the extra mile in making sure you saw them? Did you forget all the times I drove cross country to bring them to you while your son stayed at home? Or the times I would drive another 6 hours after driving to my own mother’s house because you couldn’t be bothered to meet halfway or come on up to see them? Your son chose the whore over you seeing your grandkids last summer when he refused to take either of them with him when he went to his cousin’s funeral. Your son can’t be bothered to come pick them up and take them to see you. Frankly, neither of them want anything to do with him or with you or anyone in your fucked up family. You are all liars. You are the reason people turn away from Christianity. You clutch your pearls at the thought of a woman having an abortion or someone saying, “Fuck!”, or people drinking but you have no problem with either of your kids cheating on their spouses. In fact, you welcome the interlopers with open arms. In my case you never stopped communicating with her even when he supposedly wanted his wife and kids. Pastor Fake liked the whore’s FB status where she bemoaned missing her married lover in her bed. Hey, what would Jesus do?

Do you honestly think I’m going to drive down and bring the kids to you? Look you crazy bitch, you used up every favor when you stuck your nose in my life and helped destroy it. If you want to see your grandkids your son needs to step up his game and come get them. Of course, in order for them to agree to get in the car they would have to talk to him and that would require effort on his part which won’t ever happen. It would also be very difficult for him to keep the whore and her kids away from them seeing as how he lives with the cunt. I’m not really sure how you think your holiday with them would go seeing as how they both refuse to be around Harley the Whore or her kids; I have a feeling you would be crying even harder if she and her kids weren’t sitting around your dinner table as well. And the reality is neither of those kids believe a single word that you, Pastor Fake, Jezebel, or their father has to say. You’ve all burned that bridge with your own actions. Stop playing the damn victim. Own your behavior. And for the love of God please stop publicly declaring your fake love all over Facebook! There’s going to come a day when Cousinfucker and I are divorced and I will no longer have to watch my Ps and Qs. When that day comes I’m going to unleash on your ass and tell you exactly what I think of you and your pathetic declarations. I know you prefer to carry your Bible as opposed to actually reading it but even Jesus finally got fed up and let his righteous anger fly.

For. The. Love!

Pardon me while I rant a bit. I apologize in advance to any of my male readers because I’m not going to do my usual man/woman, he/she, husband/wife stuff that I normally do. Why? Because the comments I’m seeing are from men, husbands. I have yet to read a blog by a woman who laments that her husband has not made her his entire focus. Gets a little pissed when he’s out drinking at all hours, every night during the week, with buddies? Upset when he spends every weekend doing one of his hobbies instead of spending anytime with her and the kids? Sure. But upset that he talks to his parents or doesn’t spend every waking hour glued to her side? No. I will concede that there are probably women out there like that. Tracie Andrews comes to mind. But I haven’t read any of their blogs so today it’s all about those men who whine and whine because their wives have friends, family, work, kids, and other things to do.

What the hell is up with this? In the recent days I’ve seen men lament the fact that their wives aren’t devoting 100% of their attention to them. I’m hearing, “I have needs,” and “I wish we could just have sex every day and she would ignore everyone around else and focus on me, Me, ME!” There is, of course, the obligatory, “My wife pours all of her attention into our kids.” Hey- here’s an idea. Maybe if these whining men would actually help out with the kids the wife could devote more time to them!

There was even lamentation that the wife had a family that she liked to talk to! She had friends she did things with! That bitch! Sometimes the wife even has ill or dying parents, sometimes it’s the husband’s parents that are ill and she’s still the one taking care of them while he complains that these dying people are taking attention away from him. Doesn’t she realize she has a husband and she should drown out the sounds of everyone and everything to attend to his every whim whenever and wherever he needs?

Hey, men! She’s your wife; not your girlfriend. I thought I covered it pretty thoroughly in my post with the same name. If you want someone devoted to you and your every need don’t get married. Continue to date endlessly and only see each other 3-4 times a week. It will keep the spark alive and she’ll be able to focus solely on you whenever the two of you are together!

I’m sure I come across jaded but I prefer to think of it as reality. One more time for those still complaining… Your relationship is going to change. It is inevitable. When you first meet someone it’s all fireworks and chemistry and passion. That doesn’t last. It never lasts. Even in great relationships reality begins to intrude. You have kids. You need to pay bills. You get a pet or two. You’re running kids around. In some cases you have children who end up needing more of your time and energy because of mental health issues, addiction, health problems, etc. Parents get older and need more help. People go back to school. People change jobs. You move. You have bad jobs, sucky bosses, family members die.

Putting all that aside there is a difference between dating and marriage. When you’re dating you are putting your best face forward. You laugh at the corny jokes. The bad habits don’t annoy you, yes because you’re madly in love so it’s no big deal, but mainly because those bad habits are new and you think you can put up with them. Ten, fifteen, twenty years later you might not be so understanding. You don’t see each other every day so every encounter is new and exciting. All her attention is focused on YOU because everything is NEW! She dresses up, she does her hair and make-up, she shaves her legs. Again, because every encounter is an event. It’s not everyday life.

And sex? No matter how fantastic it may continue to be, years with the same person is not going to be as exciting as that first time. No matter how great the sex may be it’s still not sex with a different person.

I think what bugs me the most is all this neediness. These men are demanding attention like little toddlers. I still remember the day I spent upstairs in the bedroom with CF. We did nothing except watch TV and he was probably laying all over me. He began crying and then told me that this was the best day of his life because I had spent the entire day glued to his side. I don’t have that kind of time and energy. It was mentally exhausting. It all harks back to, “Make me happy!” Dude, I’m not responsible for your happiness. You control that. So please, for the love of all that’s holy, grow the fuck up!

Being married brings with it adult situations. It’s not all fun and games. It’s too bad they don’t discuss that in school. It’s not one long date. You live together. You see each other in the morning before hair and make-up is done and when you have morning breath. You see each other when one of you is puking in the toilet or when one of you has gas or cramps. You see each other when you’re in a bad mood, or you’re sad, or you’re pissed. It’s years and years of living together, seeing each other at your worst, going through tough situations, supporting each other. It’s celebrating milestones together, buying and selling homes together, moving, consoling each other at the deaths of your parents, raising children and pets, discussing bills and taxes, negotiating all of life’s daily time sucks. The hot monkey sex, if you’re lucky enough to have that? That’s a part of the marriage. It’s not the entire marriage. Being your wife’s sole focus? That’s a fantasy. If you really want someone like that you’re going to end up with someone like Tracie Andrews! She’s not a balanced person. I can’t imagine the pressure of being everything to someone. Having friends, interacting with family, getting out into the community, having hobbies are all good things! If you’re much past the age of 5 and you’re still demanding someone focus on you 100% whenever you’re around you’re pretty much an entitled narcissist. Again, grow the fuck up!

My Own Facebook Post

OK, I’m not really going to make my own Facebook post to combat Asshat’s but I do want to reflect upon what I’m grateful for.

Unlike Cousinfucker I don’t have to reach out to my kids through Facebook (even though my daughter has him blocked and our son doesn’t even have a FB page). I see them every day. I tell them every day I love them and to have a good day. Unlike him I know that they hear me when I say those things because I get an, “I love you,” right back.

On Wednesday before Turkey Day my daughter took me out for breakfast. Her treat. And she was the one who asked me if I wanted to go. We ended up having the best time. She just talked and talked and told funny stories. She had me laughing constantly. I’ve missed that. I feel like I’m missing out on so much of their lives, especially with this crazy schedule I’ve had lately. Going in at 1:30 in the morning I’m going to bed around 6. I get 2 or 3 hours tops with my kids. But on Wednesday Rock Star and I ate breakfast, went shopping, and talked and laughed.

I took Picasso to get his hunter’s license on Thanksgiving so his uncle could take him out. We had a good conversation, too. He got a little frightened with my driving for some reason, apparently thinking I can’t judge distances too well, but I assured him that if anyone died in the crash it would be me. He told me he didn’t want me to die and when I told him he didn’t need to worry about having to go live with his dad he told me he didn’t want me to die because he loved me. Contrast that with his declaration that his dad is dead to him. While he thinks he’s too big to sit on my lap anymore (okay, he is about 5’10 and weighs a good 220 but he’s still my baby and my lap is always open) he is always leaning in to kiss me and tell me he loves me.

In other news as expected Cousinfucker is getting plenty of sympathy on his Thanksgiving Facebook post. Someone (I believe I refer to her as Daniella later on) that he used to work with told him not to give up on them, just to keep letting them know how much he loves them. Eventually they will come around and be able to make their own decisions.

That’s adorable. I’d love to throw caution to the wind and reply on his page: Your sympathy is admirable but save it for someone who really needs it, like his kids. This is the first time he’s mentioned his kids since June. He walked out the door in February and hasn’t set eyes on them since. To be clear, it isn’t because they’ve told him not to come see them. He hasn’t even bothered to ask. This FB post is as far as he’s going to go to reach out to his kids. He doesn’t call; he doesn’t text. Aside from their birthday cards they haven’t heard a peep out of him since June. He lived with his kids for six months after they got the news we were divorcing because of his affair and he didn’t bother with talking to them, reaching out to them, or offering to take them anyplace during that time either. He hasn’t sent child support since May. He forced them to move out of their home and transfer schools. He couldn’t pay for his own daughter’s $80 Homecoming dress but he could spend over $300 on a dress for his whore’s daughter. He didn’t have the money to pay his half of the household bills (or to pay for the damn dress for his daughter) but he had over $4k to spend on an engagement ring for his mistress. In that same month she was able to spend over $400 on sports equipment for her kids, another $167 at Vera Bradley, over $400 on utility bills, and hundreds on eye care- all out of the joint checking account they opened while he was still married (and before his wife even know he was having yet another affair with her) and taking from his own children to support her and hers. He couldn’t be bothered to be engaged with his own kids while he plays Daddy of the Year to four kids who already have a father. His kids have nothing to do with him not because of their evil mother’s influence but because he’s a selfish, entitled asshole who chose a whore and her four kids over his own. He’s never offered a heartfelt apology to either of them. He never bothered to reach out and check on them after finding out we were forced to move out of the state. Never asked a single question about how they were adjusting, how they liked their new schools, how it was living where they were living. Certainly never apologized for forcing his daughter to transfer schools right before her junior year.

Here- let me sum this up in a much more concise statement:  Outside of Facebook he never gives them another thought. Facebook is nice and public so everyone can see his grand declarations. It’s no fun texting or calling your kids; no one can see that! He posted that drivel so everyone could see his very public gesture and in turn would feel sorry for him. You all fell for it, suckers!

You know what, readers? In the end, no matter what kind of bullshit he pulls, no matter how bad off financially I am, I have won. My kids love me; they value me. He has no idea what kinds of things they like, who their friends are, what they want to do with their lives. He doesn’t get to talk to them, joke around with them, eat dinner with them, drive them around. He has no idea who they are as people. He will never watch our kids graduate from high school. Neither of them want him there. Hell, he doesn’t even know which schools they attend. He will never watch Picasso at an orchestra concert or watch Rock Star cheering. If our son ends up playing football he won’t be around to give him tips, coach him from home, or watch him play. He won’t know if or where our kids end up going to college or what they choose to do for a career. He will not be the one to walk our daughter down the aisle should she ever marry; he won’t even be invited to the wedding. He won’t be around for our son’s wedding either should he ever marry. If grandchildren are a part of the future he will never know them. He won’t even know they exist.

The sad part is I’m sure he would say the whore is worth it. She has to be now that he’s lost everything. I don’t really care whether he thinks she’s worth it or not. I know I’ve got the better deal. For that I’m grateful.

Spitting Nails, Part 2

This could also be entitled, “The Perils of Facebook” or “Why No Contact Is Awesome”. Honestly, I do so much better when I know absolutely nothing about what he’s doing. To be clear, I don’t seek this out. I’d also like to point out that seeing as how he’s claiming PTSD and all sorts of mental problems it’s not in my best interest to hide my head in the sand. You would be amazed at how many people end up getting tripped up by Facebook. Nonetheless, he infuriates me with his bullshit and his total oblivion to all the destruction he has caused.

I told you all that Cousinfucker has his new profile picture up. It’s a picture of him and Harley the Whore. Apparently, he has chosen to make his page public so my mom (and my lawyer) can read his page. I’ve been told he’s getting many comments about how happy he looks, how they’re so happy for him, how happiness looks good on him. Puke. Nothing like being told I made him miserable. Gosh, looks like not only is Harley a whore she’s also a happiness fairy! Good to know, Cousinfucker; good to know.

Then I’m told the whole reason Cousinfucker was posing with the whore’s youngest son was because he went to school with him for show and tell! Yes, instead of lamenting the fact that his own children didn’t write him gushing letters of appreciation for his service he chose to go to show and tell on Veteran’s Day with a fucking kid that doesn’t belong to him. That child HAS a father. I couldn’t get him to regularly attend parent-teacher conferences with me. His own son couldn’t get him to drop him off at school because the carpool lane freaked him out. He threw a royal fit when he had to go grab a dollar gift for his daughter’s school Christmas party. But he can certainly rise to the occasion for the whore’s kid. Nice.

Finally, a friend of his sent me a message today. This is the guy that I talk to as well and have for several years. He did say he figured Cousinfucker was having a public pity party on Facebook but he felt duty-bound to pass along the message. He told me he wasn’t going to let CF know he had passed it along but he felt I should have it.

Keep in mind this message is written with good ol’ dad posing with the whore that he left his family for.

I want to wish my children a Happy Thanksgiving. It is doubtful that they will see this, but I wanted to express it anyway. I love you both immensely and miss you terribly. I hope you have a great Thanksgiving and always know that I love you like crazy. Nothing in the world can change the love I have for you.

What a load of shit! It starts out okay, I suppose.

I want to wish my children a Happy Thanksgiving.

It quickly veers into pity with that second sentence.

It is doubtful that they will see this, but I wanted to express it anyway.

Hey, why do you think they won’t see your wonderful sentiments, Cousinfucker? Could it be because you walked out of their lives without a backward glance? Could it be because you chose a whore and her four kids over your own flesh and blood? Could it possibly be because instead of wishing them a Happy Thanksgiving by sending them a card or calling them or even sending a text, you chose to post it publicly on Facebook?

That’s such a curious way to wish your children a Happy Thanksgiving and let them know how much you love and miss them. I don’t suppose you did that to garner pity, did you? Did you take that page right out of your mother’s book? She can’t interact with her grandkids unless it’s on a public stage. I see you’ve picked up that trick as well. Don’t bother to call. Don’t bother to text. Just post a bunch of self-pitying bullshit on Facebook so everyone can see how much you love and miss them. Bonus points- you may be able to convince people the entire reason you don’t have contact with them isn’t because of anything you may or may not have done but because I’m such a horrible bitch.

I love you both immensely and miss you terribly. I hope you have a great Thanksgiving and always know that I love you like crazy. Nothing in the world can change the love I have for you.

I appreciate the sentiment but I think we both know that a father who truly loves and misses his kids wouldn’t even dream of doing the things to them that you have. He wouldn’t drag them away from their friends and everything they love, dash their dreams, make them start all over, and then once they begin to rebuild their lives start cheating on their mother, forcing a divorce and yet more upheaval. He wouldn’t move out of the goddamn state he drug them to less than two years later, and he sure as shit wouldn’t move out without saying a fucking word to either of them. He wouldn’t force them to move out of their home, out of the state. He wouldn’t cost his daughter her driver’s license. He wouldn’t take away her great new life so he could get his dick sucked. He wouldn’t refuse to support them or be fine with them living in poverty. He wouldn’t play these stupid games with their mother because he would do the right thing. He wouldn’t let months go by without contacting them. You know what else he wouldn’t do? He wouldn’t post his fucking message on Facebook. He’d pick up a goddamn phone and actually talk to his fucking kids. If they don’t pick up leave a message! It’s a thing.

All that crap you just wrote? It’s all image management and self-pity. I’m just a poor man who loves his children unconditionally no matter how much they might reject me. Please Facebook friends, tell me how wonderful and noble I am. Tell me how my children will see the light one day. Tell me my mean, nasty wife won’t get away with turning them against me. Tell me what a wonderful father I am and how my kids are so lucky to have me.

So… I was just going to ignore this friend. Let’s call him Bob. I was just going to ignore Bob and all this bullshit but I was already in a shitty mood because of the court hearing and Cousinfucker’s request to modify his support. Quite honestly I’m tired of taking it on the chin and I’m tired of everyone acting like what he’s done is no big deal. I’m tired of his pity plays. Instead of ignoring it this time I replied.

I’m sure the four children he lives with appreciate the sentiment. I hope they see it and thank him appropriately although I’m not sure why he needs to post it on Facebook seeing as how he lives with them and sees them everyday.

Snarky? Yes. Did it feel good? You betcha!

Spitting Nails, Part 1

You get a bonus entry today because I am so mad I could spit nails.

My attorney appeared in court today to get a show-cause hearing. As expected Cousinfucker simultaneously filed for a modification of his support. It gets better. He’s now claiming that because of his mental health and substance abuse issues he won’t be able to earn anywhere near his previous salary. He is putting his income range around $30,000. Wow- that’s what he was making when I met him more than 22 years ago. It gets even better. Not only are they filing for a modification of support they want it retroactive to the day in June that he notified me he lost his job. Because apparently when you don’t have a job you don’t have any bills to pay and your children no longer have any needs or wants.

I just asked my attorney a few days ago if a judge would vacate his arrears and she told me that he would still owe that. I asked again after reading his lawyer’s filing and I haven’t yet heard back. It may very well turn out that I’m going to have to wait until February to see if he will get away with yet another shitty act. If Cousinfucker wanted a modification he should have filed for that months ago. He’s a lazy sonofabitch who figured I would go away and let him fuck his whore in peace. Does the fact that he’s had FIVE MONTHS to file a modification mean nothing?

On top of that his attorney is trying to make him look like a saint by claiming all of his gross annual income for Dream Job #1 and then claiming a pay cut for Dream Job #2 while he continued to pay the agreed upon court orders. Um… first of all, she overestimated his pay by about $20,000. Second of all, he was paying support based upon his monthly income only. He argued vehemently against having any of his bonus, stocks, or dividend checks included. He even argued that the bonus was already spent and that he wasn’t assured of that amount every year (another lie). He actually ended up paying less than what he would have been ordered to pay if we had included all of his salary. Third of all, he didn’t take a pay cut when he moved; he actually got a slight monthly pay increase where his base salary was concerned. It wasn’t much but then again he wasn’t moving for the money; he was moving for the whore. Fourth? It’s not my damn fault he quit his job and moved. Those are called consequences, Cousinfucker!

Naturally they are using his veteran status and claiming he has severe depression, anxiety, panic attacks, and PTSD. Funny how most of that didn’t manifest itself until he started fucking a whore and found out it wasn’t so cheap to get rid of the wife.

My attorney is not very hopeful. She thinks he’s going to have a tough time finding another job in his pay range. The jobs that pay what he’s used to won’t want to take a chance on him and the jobs that aren’t as demanding will say he’s overqualified. So, I don’t know if she thinks he’s going to get away with everything (which is what I’m fully expecting), or if she thinks it doesn’t matter what a judge rules because he’ll never be able to pay me what he owes.

She did suggest to his attorney that perhaps he ought to go back to his former place of employment to see if he was eligible for a re-hire, letting them know he had an emergency medical issue which has been taken care of. That’s hysterical. He doesn’t want to have to commute 2 hours each way. He sure as hell doesn’t want to have to go back to the company he called home for 15 years because that’s 6 hours away from the whore. He could get a job in Manufacturing Services but that would require weekly travel and I’m sure he’d prefer to get his nightly blow job over supporting his children. He’s such a piece of shit.

Twenty years of marriage and nineteen years of me following that sonofabitch all over the country and I’m going to be left with nothing.

Part 2 of my, “I’m So Mad I Could Spit Nail,” coming later tonight. Probably. I’ve been up since 12:45 am so I’m getting a bit tired.