What Is He Up To?

About a week ago Picasso got a package in the mail from CF. It was an odd assortment of gifts. A pair of cheap binoculars, a hand shovel that has a bottle opener among other things on it, chili mix, bacon flavored hot chocolate (yuck!), jerky, and a flask. I would nominate him as Father of the Year, being an alcoholic and giving his teenage son a flask but I bought Picasso one when he was about 10. It had Christmas lights on it and he thought it was just the coolest thing ever. He drank water and pop out of it.

Now Rock Star has received a package.

What is up with him and why can’t he ever manage to get both of his kids something at the same time? I realize in normal families you might buy something for one kid and not buy something for another. That’s the way it goes sometimes. But when you haven’t laid eyes on your kids since February of 2016 you might want to make sure it doesn’t appear as though you are thinking of one kid and not thinking of the other.

How is it he’s able to afford gifts for his kids but he can’t afford to pay support? An even better question is who exactly is paying for this? Is the whore helping him out? I don’t want anything she’s had a part of in this house.

Is he trying to appear the doting dad from afar in preparation for court? Yes, sending a $45 gift once in the 14 months since you’ve seen your kids totally makes up for your abandonment.

Another Laugh

Okay, this probably isn’t really that funny but I found it humorous.

As I may have written our divorce hearing was scheduled for May 5th. Cousinfucker had until that date to pay me the arrears he owed or he would be fined an additional $10,000.

A few weeks ago we get notice of an expert witness who will testify for him at our divorce trial; therefore, my attorney asked for a continuance so that we could find an expert witness of our own and so that she could discover what all his expert witness would be testifying to.

In the correspondence between the two lawyers, and in the eventual motion that went before the judge, his lawyer tells mine that she doesn’t think her client will object to the continuance so long as we agree not to file another show-cause in the meantime.

Ha! He knows damn well he hasn’t paid a dime in support since May. He got his damn support lowered and still hasn’t paid a dime. He hasn’t paid his arrears and he hasn’t paid his current support obligations either. More than likely he will pay the arrears from June through January, but anything he owes me from February, March, and potentially April will be put on hold. Wonder when, if ever, I will get that?

Nevertheless, it still made me laugh. He knows he’s an ass. He knows I’ve got him by the short hairs and he’s doing his best to stay out of jail.

Um, I don’t care if we have a continuance, just please don’t put me in jail!!!!

My brother kept telling me I should file another show-cause to keep his ass in a sling. But no. As always, I waited and watched to see what would happen. One of these days I’m just going to act without thinking about it. It will probably be a disaster. Keep it up, asshole. I’ve got no sympathy left for you. It might not happen today, or even tomorrow, but I’m confident there is a jail cell with your name on it! You’re running out of chances.

Update: Obviously this was written before I received the check for 8 months worth of back support. Now he only owes me for February through April. Still wondering when, or if, I’ll see any of that, or if he’ll begin paying his court ordered support on a regular basis.

The Kool-Aid He Drinks

I’m beginning to think he’s certifiably crazy. Oh sure, he’s got the PTSD stuff going on supposedly, but I am beginning to think the man has just lost his damn mind. He’s delusional.

I got a text from one of his sisters, wanting to meet up. Not Jezebel, of course. She had a lot of interesting information.

I think my favorite part was when she talked about how she went off on him. Apparently he asked how the kids were (because, you know, he can’t pick up a damn phone and CALL THEM!!!) and she told him they were fine but to never expect them to be in his life again. She said she couldn’t hold her tongue anymore and she flat out told him that he was a disappointment. She told him he was the worst father in the world. Wow! She told him he had ruined our daughter’s dreams of college gymnastics and ruined her chance at getting a scholarship for that as well, and that he left Picasso at a time when a teenage boy needs his dad the most. And she told him that despite all of their father’s faults he looked like a saint compared to Cousinfucker; CF actually made their father look like a fantastic father. She finished it up by telling him that what he had done to his own kids was far more detrimental than anything their parents had done to them and that she hoped her harsh words and keen disappointment in his behavior would knock some sense into him.

No luck on that! But thanks for trying.

Naturally, his response was that I had poisoned the kids against him. Yes, it was all on me. I’m sure walking out the door like you were going to work and moving to another state didn’t play any part in it. Or not calling your daughter back or even bothering with checking up on her after she called you crying upon finding out her parents were getting a divorce. She hung up on your mother and yet no one bothered to call her back and find out if she was okay. Nor did you bother with checking on her in person once you got home from your weekend fuck-fest. But I’m sure that’s my fault. Just like it’s my fault that you couldn’t be bothered to walk into their rooms and ask them how they were doing. You couldn’t be bothered to invite them out for an ice cream cone or to dinner or anything really. You couldn’t come up with $80 for a Homecoming dress for your daughter but spent over $300 on a dress for the cunt face cum dumpster’s daughter. I’m also certain it’s my fault that somehow you could find the strength to drive 12 hours round trip every weekend to go fuck a whore but you couldn’t bother to drive even one weekend to see your children. Yes, yes. I’m sure that was my fault. Just like it was undoubtedly my fault that you couldn’t be bothered to attend one single high school gymnastics meet, one single cheer competition or watch one single football game where your own daughter was cheering, but you could buy a fucking t-shirt with the whore’s daughter’s school’s name on it and go to cheer her on… because you wanted to support her. I’m sure it’s my fault you didn’t attempt to communicate with them for months after you forced us to move out of our house, or that you’ve never bothered apologizing for everything you’ve put us through, or that you’ve never set eyes on your kids since you took off. Yep, all my fault. You’re the poor misunderstood victim.

Thankfully this particular sister told him to knock it off. She informed him that I didn’t need to say a word about him. His own actions sealed his fate and his kids could see on their own how selfish he was.

She also mentioned something that I had completely forgotten and which might shed some light on why Harley the Whore is sticking around despite his alcoholism and unemployment. CF’s dad died a few years ago. As far as I know the estate has not been settled, at least it hadn’t been when I was still with him. She asked if we ever received anything and I was honest- told her we hadn’t and I thought it was all pending the sale of the house. So…. while I’m not saying it definitely did happen if he did in fact receive money from his father’s estate that would explain why the gold digger is still hanging around. It explains why she didn’t cut bait and run once he lost his job. It explains how he’s able to continue to pay his lawyer, despite being unemployed for 9 months. I know that according to our state law I am not legally entitled to any inheritance he may have received, so I’m not upset about that. If he has been living off of it though I hope he has a good time explaining to the judge how it is that he could continue to support his new, fake family but he could’t send a dime to his actual family.

Furthermore, she told me his FB page is full of pictures of him and his new family. She thought it was sickening and told me she hoped the kids hadn’t seen it. Hey! We’re in agreement. I find it sickening and ridiculous, too!

And, as I already suspected, he had a difficult time finding work because he refused to look outside of the state or leave her behind. I find it so comforting to know that he could move me and our kids around, disrupt our lives and never for a minute think of us but the whore and her four kids are the only thing he takes into consideration now. Too bad he couldn’t have exhibited such care and concern when it was us.

Do you want to hear something really ironic? The company that ultimately “fired” him (forced him to resign) was the same company that he originally worked for. Actually, the first company he worked for was bought out by another company. That company was eventually bought out by this newest company. So in a bizarre sort of way he ended up working for the very first company he ever worked for, which means he could have remained in the same town where we met. I never would have needed to move. I wouldn’t have needed to reinvent my life over and over again. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth? Oh well, as long as he’s happy….

Ke$ha Said It Best When She Sang, “Blah Blah Blah”

November 2014

My family is coming here for Thanksgiving. We’re going there for Christmas. Zack asked if we could drive to see his mom on our way back. He said we would only stay for a few hours and that he knew I didn’t want to go. I agreed to drive him. Again, I am a fucking saint.

November 2014

My MIL called today. I was in the bathroom when I heard the “Before He Cheats” ring tone. I knew it was someone I knew but couldn’t figure out who at first. Then I remembered. She wants to update me on Zack’s nephew’s condition. I figure she can just tell Zack. Better yet, she can update Harley.

November 2014

Isn’t this adorable? (Picture not shown because I don’t know how to block crap out. It was one of those: Leave a word that describes me and then repost bullshit posts.) Harley is first in line to comment with her insipid “I love you bunches!” Yes, she loves them so much she’s given them how much money over the years? Loves them so much she’s gotten her lazy ass in the car and driven to see them how many times over the last 20 years? Spent how many holidays with them? Done anything other than gushing on Facebook?

I still think my favorite part, though, is when she says, “You know how I’m no good with rules.” Tee hee hee. Yeah, we all know how you’re not good with rules, Harley. That’s why you’re called whore! You may have just as well said, “You of all people should know I’m no good with rules. After all I was screwing around with your son all summer long, betraying my husband and humiliating his wife. But the rules don’t apply to me. I wanted out of this life and when I saw my chance I just went for it. Fuck anybody that might have been hurt. I’m Harley; I take whatever I want and damn the consequences.”

November 2014

Look what I found in my house while going through pictures. It’s lovely when your husband fucks around with his whore of a cousin. She’s everywhere. In old pictures. Mentioned in our wedding book. Oh, don’t worry. I’ve added notes any time her name comes up. What a whore, whore, whore.

Hooray! Yet, He’s Still a Dick

Great news, folks! I got my back support check. Hooray! It was indeed for the months of June-January, with no mention of February, March, or April. So, $28,800 down and only another $10,800 to go! I’m not holding my breath or quitting my second job just yet.

As always he must do something aggravating. The check was sent registered mail; I was taking a nap when the postman came by so I didn’t hear the doorbell. My mom let me know later, when she got back home, that someone had tried to deliver a registered letter. She was the one who thought it might be the support check. I figured I was getting sued or something.

Fast forward to today. Rock Star forwards me a text from CF. Please remind your mom to pick up the letter at the post office. I received notice that no one was there to sign for it. It is a check for the back support.

Really? Seriously? He can’t even send me a text to let me know that he sent the check and it’s sitting at the post office? He’s got to involve our daughter and make her the go between because he’s such a pussy he can’t communicate with me?

You would think that I was the one who cheated on him. Who moved him across the country so I could get closer to my lover. Who spent marital money on my new lover and his four kids. Who lied and deceived and was just an ass in general. You would think that I was the one who walked out the door one day without saying a word and moved to another state. Or that I was the one sharing a bank account and living with another man right under his nose.

Even better? His new checks now have his and Harley’s names on them. Delightful. I still deposited that fucker, though! In fact, above his notes in the memo line I wrote: Thanks, guys! And right below those notes I wrote: Disney, here we come!

I’m still hating him but at least I’m a little less poor as of today.

The Potential End Of This Blog

I’ve been at this blogging business for a little over a year. Let’s call it 15 months. This is post #399. It’s not a record by any means. I’m not an every day poster but I’m pretty close. There have been a few times where I’ve disappeared for a few days. And there have been times where I’ve published two or three posts in a single day.

When I first began writing this I pointed out that the problem with blogs like these is that they seem to have a built in end date. For people who are reconciling after an affair they tend to stop writing once things seem to be on track. For those who divorce they tend to end right around the time they find someone new and begin a new life with that person. Most of the men who cheated and now write a blog tend to quit once their wives come upon their blog. Some of them end abruptly. Some let you know they’re closing down the keyboard. As they heal they no longer feel the need to write. In some cases, they simply get too busy- with work or with a new life- to continue writing.

I don’t know where my own path is going to take me. I feel like I was in a better place when I began writing. I hadn’t lost everything. I hadn’t been forced to move out of my home and leave 95% of my possessions behind. I wasn’t crying every day. I even posted recipes now and then. I could be funny and light hearted. I tried to write mainly about my observations, my life experiences with CF, and my outrage at some of the stories on my beloved ID TV. A lot of it was processing everything I had been through the last twenty years with CF- trying to make sense of it, realizing for probably the first time that he had been no prize, and licking my wounds (and coming out swinging) after being so grievously betrayed. I thought maybe I could share what I learned about my failed reconciliation and entertain you with stories of CF’s antics, including his ongoing pity parties. I was mostly upbeat and happy and prepared to get on with my new life. Then June 10th happened and I feel like so much of this blog has been extremely dark. It’s been nonstop whining and complaining. I wish I could just stop and act like everything is wonderful but it’s not. I trudge along, most days not crying anymore, but still not looking forward to anything in life. It’s one big endless cycle of work, sleep, work, sleep, run kids around (oh who am I kidding? It’s run A kid around). I can’t even write about murdering cheaters whose stories wind up on ID TV because I don’t have much time to watch ID TV anymore! I suppose I could point out the endless entitlement that cheaters and their cheating partners exhibit, but I think Chump Lady already has the market cornered on that and how many of those do you really need?

I don’t really have a unique story to tell and there’s nothing remotely interesting going on in my life so it’s not like I can regale you with tall tales from the Midwest. There is no fun or excitement or new adventure heading my way. I have no plans to ever date again so there won’t be any posts about the trauma or joy of dating after divorce or dating in your late 40s.

I don’t think most people want to come here and read about my woes. Unfortunately, that’s about all there is to share with you. And honestly? I never wanted to write a blog about the huge suck-fest that post divorce life is for me.

I don’t want it to sound like it’s all doom and gloom. Things have gotten a bit easier in the last few weeks. My mom has returned and she is a tremendous help. I’m no longer working, running my daughter up to school, cooking, and doing laundry. My mom is a laundry phenom and she’s quite the cook as well. Before Rock Star got her license she was also willing to run her to school so I could have an extra 30 minutes to eat breakfast and get ready for work in the mornings.

Plus, Rock Star got a car last weekend. She saved up and paid for most of it; my mom loaned her the rest. I did pay the taxes for her. So now I no longer have to run around, taking her to school, picking her up from track practice, running her to and from work. She can even help me out by taking her brother to school if necessary.

AND I only work a half day today plus I have the rest of the weekend off from both jobs! So that’s a little bonus that has kept me going after 5 straight days of getting up at 3:30am and working 13 hour days.

I promise I won’t leave until the divorce is final. I think for those of you who have been faithfully reading all this time I owe it to you to let you know how hard I get fucked over in my final court hearing, so I’ll be around at least until May. Oh, and also to let you know how soon after the divorce is final that Cousinfucker and Harley tie the knot. I know that’s coming. Shall we start a pool? The divorce is final May 5th. I wouldn’t be shocked to find out they’ve married on May 6th. If it were possible to get married the very day he gets divorced I would put down May 5th as my choice. Any of you want to place your bets?

I’ll also take bets on whether or not he ends up inviting his kids to his wedding or even informing them of the fact.

I’m not for certain taking my final bow in a few months. I’m just thinking about where, if anywhere, this blog is headed.

Update: Our divorce is being continued. Or perhaps there will be a settlement. I’m not holding my breath because Cousinfucker wants to get out of this marriage with as little damage to himself as possible. He won’t be offering up much of anything and I am about 99% sure he won’t agree to my terms. So I’m probably married to this useless waste of space until August or September.

We can still do a pool. You’ll just have to say how long you think it will take before they get married after our divorce is final as opposed to giving a date.

Oh! Feel free to also place your bets on how long the marriage actually lasts and whether or not he discovers her cheating on him. For the record, my guess is yes, he will eventually find out.

A Conversation With Tammy Faye


November 2014

I finally answered the phone when my mother-in-law called on the 26th. I figured it was almost Thanksgiving so why not? It was a pleasant conversation, lasted about 45 minutes. She told me she loved me and she wanted to see us. Loves me so much she continues to pal around with my husband’s whore. No thank you. In hindsight I think she reached out and tried calling again because I texted on the 24th to see if Zack’s niece still needed something on her registry. I am a little surprised she decided to try again since her reply was basically: No, she doesn’t have that yet. Thanks. The end. No more. I figured she had finally given up on me.

Then she butt dialed me. That was interesting. I missed the first part of her conversation with my father-in-law but I heard something about “you can’t change that” or something about it being in the past. She told him she was so glad I finally answered because she had called so many times before and I wouldn’t answer. I heard her tell him I don’t like it here. It switched over to talk of us coming by at Christmas. I think they believe I’m the reason he’s not been home. She was saying he had told me it was what he wanted to do. Yeah, he directs everything. No, I don’t care if he goes to see you. He’s choosing not to. He’s not able to. Has nothing to do with me.

She called on Thanksgiving and I didn’t answer but I also honestly didn’t hear the phone ring. I think I had it on vibrate.

She thinks I’m buddy buddy with his other sister and that’s how she knew where Zack was this summer. Um… No. I had nothing to do with that. Don’t know how she found him but it had nothing to do with me.

So, now I’m in a quandary. I still have no desire to be around whore lovers but I think she believes we have established contact and it will be ongoing. I also don’t want to play games whereby I take her calls one day and ignore them the next. I’m going to have to think about this for a bit.

Present Day Sam Says: She loved me so much she kept in contact with the whore. She loved me so much and wanted our relationship to go back to the way it was so she called up the whore and encouraged her to call my husband. She loved me so much she actively tried to destroy my marriage and replace me with the whore. Hell, there was no trying to it. She did it.

I can’t even begin to fathom calling a former paramour of my son or daughter. First, I would be beyond horrified that they had such piss poor judgement and that I had obviously not a very good job of raising them. But secondly, I could never see myself taking it upon myself to encourage yet another affair with the hopes that my child would leave his or her spouse. That takes some amazing lady balls.

Once again I’m amazed by their moral code. Don’t say “fuck”. Go to church every Sunday. Watch TV evangelists. Pray before meals. Set your son up with his affair partner. Sanctify an adulterous relationship. Stab your daughter-in-law in the back. Be a two-faced bitch.

The Best Revenge


I came across a meme the other day, very much like the one above. I also came across this:


and this:



Logically, I know that this is all good advice. I knew this way back when I was a mere 21 years of age. There was a guy that I dated for about a month. He dumped me for one of my best friends. I briefly fantasized about being an alcoholic and watching my life fall apart, and then quickly realized neither of them would really care about the mess I had made of my life.

The stakes are higher but it’s the same philosophy now, 25 years later. Me being miserable for the rest of my life won’t make CF or Harley feel bad. Hell, if anything it would probably make them ecstatic. The thought that I can’t make it without him has to be glorious news to Cousinfucker’s ears. I’m sure he takes great satisfaction in knowing that my life has fallen to shit and that I will never have anything to call my own again. There will be no more shopping trips, no more vacations, no more day excursions, no splurges. My kids will never have anything they want anymore. I can’t afford it and I doubt I ever will. That must make him and the whore so happy.

If I killed myself tomorrow, or was diagnosed with cancer, or just had a heart attack like I’m hoping for, he wouldn’t feel shame or regret or guilt. No, he’d be dancing on my grave, thanking me for letting him off the hook for child and spousal support. Oh, did I say thanking me? No, he’d never actually thank me. He would dance gleefully and probably shout out loud about how happy he was that I was so stupid and pathetic, though. Ding dong the witch is dead!

In my head I KNOW all of this. I know that the best revenge is living well. I know the best revenge is to be awesome and amazing and to show him that I don’t need him and that the kids and I are doing great without him. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me suffer. I want him to hear that I’m doing awesome without him, that I have a full social life and I have a great career and I’m making money and I don’t need him to support me (although I will take his money- I earned every dime). I don’t want him thinking he’s broken me because, honest to God, I sometimes think that’s exactly what he tried to do with his cross country move.

I sometimes think he wondered to himself, “Hmmm… how can I destroy Sam? She’s way too happy for my tastes. I need to knock that bitch down a peg or two. How can I make her suffer? I know! I’ll move her across the country and take her entire life as she’s known it for the last eight years completely away from her. I’ll move her to a desolate place where she can’t get involved and will have few friends so that she must rely on me. I’ll give her everything she’s ever wanted. And then, when I’m the only one she has and when she has everything she’s ever wanted, I’m going to walk away and leave her empty handed and completely alone. She will never recover. Finally, she will know what it’s like to live life like me- never happy, always miserable.”

Yep, that about sums it up, I believe.

So knowing this, knowing I don’t want to be pitiful and knowing I don’t want him to beat me the question then becomes HOW do you do this? How do you rise? How do you live your awesome life? How do you find happiness in a world of gray repetition? It’s a nice little quote but it doesn’t offer much guidance.

How happy am I supposed to be when I’ve lost everything? I’ve lost my house. I own very few possessions. I live with my mother. My husband cheated on me with HIS COUSIN, for crying out loud. I work two jobs, both of which pay a whopping $11/hour. I’m NOT living a fabulous life. I’m just not.

It is demoralizing to get up every fucking morning at 3:20, work stocking shelves at Job #1 and then get ready to work as a damn bank teller for another 9 hours. And the end result isn’t a fantastic lifestyle. No, it’s being able to barely pay my bills, put food on the table and buy household necessities. Or as I prefer to put it: I don’t have to choose between wiping my ass and eating.

Rock Star wanted to know if I could take her clothes shopping. I had to tell her no. After years and years of being able to indulge her whenever she wanted to go shopping, I can’t drop even $100 on clothes for her once in a blue moon. I don’t find anything happy or fabulous about that.

She wants a car so badly. She was promised a car when she got her license. Then her dad lost his damn mind. There is no car, and again, I so badly want to make her happy. I would love to present her with an inexpensive car. Obviously, if I can’t afford to take her clothes shopping I can’t buy her a damn car.

I hate not being able to go places. I hate the fact that I won’t ever get to take my kids on vacation again. I hate not being able to spend money like I used to. It sucks! Anyone who says that money doesn’t buy happiness doesn’t know where to shop! The fact of the matter is money problems are the leading cause of arguments and disagreements within most marriages. It’s a huge stressor in people’s lives, and more than a few people have actually divorced over it. Money may not guarantee happiness but it certainly helps. I prefer not having to worry about how I’m going to pay my bills over worrying constantly.

Because I get up at 3:20 in the morning and don’t get home until around 6 every day I have no energy to go and do things after work. I think about volunteering somewhere but the truth of the matter is when I finally get a chance to go home I want to take it. I want to go home and chill for an hour or two before I need to go to bed so that I can get up and do it all over again.

I work 6 days a week most weeks.  That means I have one day to catch up on everything I need to do. While I do get off work by 9:30 at the latest on Saturdays keep in mind I’ve been up since 3:20 am. If I don’t take a nap on Saturday and I run around getting stuff done then I’m conked out early-  like 7:30 or 8:00.  I usually don’t want to go anywhere. It’s exhausting. If I go and do something and run all day on Sunday then that means I have to go another 6 days at full speed before I get another chance for any downtime.

Then we add in the fact that he moved me 2000 miles away from my life and then, just as I was adjusting, I was forced to move again. I have to start all over and I’m tired of starting all over. I’m tired of reinventing my life again and again. I’m in a town I don’t want to be in. My friends all have lives of their own. I do not have a jam packed social schedule. I don’t even have a moderately packed social schedule; the last time I went out with any friends was approximately 6 weeks ago. My friends who would have had me over for a night of drinking or who would have gone out with me or kept my mind off of the hell I’m living or who were actually going through the same crap all live 2000 miles away. I rarely go out and do anything with anybody I know. I’m tired of MeetUp groups. I have no desire to start attending church again. I can’t get involved at my kids’ schools because I work constantly. I can’t even help out at the track meets because you need to be there by 5 and I wouldn’t get there until at least 5:30.

So I don’t have this great new social life. I don’t have a life that is full of activities that I enjoy. They don’t exist anymore. I don’t know anyone. Or rather, I have about 3 people in my social circle and they are unavailable most of the time. Quite honestly I think I’m being very generous when I say I have 3 people in my social circle. I used to have PTA, and Bunko, my neighbors, my fellow gym moms. I was a hockey mom. I volunteered for my son’s T-ball team. I have none of that anymore. I will never have it again. That part of my life is gone. He made sure to take it all away. I don’t know what to fill it with. I don’t know where to go to get involved. I don’t have the time or inclination to do it anyway. Like I’ve said before I’m tired of wasting my time with dead end events that never go anywhere. I have no desire to go walk dogs or take hikes or to go out and sit in bars with people I don’t know and end up having nothing in common with.

Yet there is a part of me (a very small part) that says I need to somehow keep trying because I will never find a new, fabulous life sitting in my mom’s living room. I didn’t get my old life by sitting at home. I got it by putting myself out there and reaching out. I didn’t meet some of my very best friends by watching TV and eating cookie dough. I did it because my daughter was involved in gymnastics and I would sit with some of the same parents. Some of them I really clicked with and we are still friends today. But I wasn’t working 55 hours a week then either. If I wasted some time it was no big deal because I had plenty of it to spare.

There is a big race coming up this summer. I have thought about training so that I can run. I only have time to do a 5K, as opposed to a 10K. But let’s be realistic. I’m up at 3:20. I work from 4-7. I come home, get ready for my second job, and then work until 5:15 or thereabouts. I head to pick up my daughter and finally get home around 6. I honestly don’t see myself strapping on my tennis shoes and going out for a run. I’m a very slow runner so eventually running 3 miles would take me almost 40 minutes. Take a shower. Eat dinner around 7. After I’ve reheated it because my mom is not going to eat at 7. She’s got dinner ready no later than 6! And then I have maybe an hour or two before I need to go to bed.

I’ve even thought about joining a gym but the same questions plague me. When would I go? My mom usually goes in the morning. She doesn’t want to wait until 6 or later. Now I have to actually drive somewhere so that’s taking even more time.

I see people traveling and taking vacations. I don’t have the money for traveling or vacations. I see people getting involved in things they love. I don’t have the time and I don’t know what I love anymore. That’s the truth. Everything I enjoyed was taken away from me and now I have to start over yet again and I have no clue what I want to do if I even had time to do anything.

I sometimes think the reason forgiveness and this whole “living well is the best revenge” tripe is so popular is because they have all these nifty phrases. Vengeance gets a bunch of warnings and people pleading with you to take the high road. No wise words. No inspirational memes.

I don’t think I’m going to be getting any sort of “revenge” on Cousinfucker and Harley anytime soon. That’s okay, though, because I prefer Confucius’s warning about revenge:



I’m fine with that. I’m willing to go down with the ship in order to take him down. It’s not like I have anything else. My happiness is nonexistent so I’ll stick with making sure I can make him miserable as well. Living that insanely happy life is probably a better form of revenge but I don’t think I’m ever going to get that so this is all I’ve got.


The Dysfunctional Baby Shower

November 2014

Tomorrow is the baby shower. I’m still debating driving down there, just picking up my daughter early from gymnastics and showing up. I figure even if the whore is there I have no reason to feel bad. I’m not a whore. I don’t send naked pictures to other women’s husbands. She’s the one that should feel bad, but let’s face it. She’s an immoral, selfish, manipulative little bitch and feeling embarrassed is the last thing she would feel. I’m sure she’d be quite satisfied with herself for being invited and attending, especially with everyone in the family fawning over her while I sat away from everyone.

I figure I could go, look fabulous and focus on the fact I’m going to support Zack’s niece, ignore the in-laws or give basic, no frills answers if they ask questions, eat cake, ooh and aaah over the gifts, and then head back to my hotel for the rest of the evening and take off Sunday afternoon. I can be cool but civil.

I doubt I’ll go. I’m not looking forward to seeing any of them and answering their fake questions of concern. I’m not looking forward to them acting like they give even a little bit of a shit about me, like I’m some important part of the family. Oh, how have you been? I’m so glad you could come. How’s life? Blah, blah, blah. I’m not looking forward to explaining to my daughter why I’m staying at a hotel instead of with her grandparents. I have no desire to interact with any of my in-laws and I’m not sure how that will go. Then I think about who I would sit with. It’s not like I’ll know anyone outside of the family. And my daughter will want to sit with her grandmother and then she’ll be asking why I’m not over there with her. It will end up being a total clusterfuck. I think it’s just better if I stay at home.

Present Day Sam Says: In the end, we didn’t go. When we went there for Christmas I brought along the baby gift. It was actually quite nice and quite expensive.

Weird Things I Think About

I have a lot of time to think while I’m hauling pallets around and dragging boxes to aisles. Sometimes I think about the strangest things. For instance, the other morning I was thinking about oral sex and how that came to be a thing. I mean, it’s not like something I would ever think up. If you really think about it the entire act seems really bizarre. Who on earth decided that this would be a good thing? So I begin wondering how did it happen that first time?

Was some guy sitting around watching a dog lick himself and think, “Hey! That looks like that could feel pretty good. The dog’s been going at it for a while now. Maybe I’d like that.” So then he tries it. But nope, his head won’t reach. He bends. He stretches. He tries it from every angle but nothing works.

Now he’s got a dilemma. He thinks licking himself would feel pretty damn good but his head won’t reach, so what to do? What to do?

“Hey, Gertrude, you wanna try something?”

Poor unsuspecting Gertrude has no idea what he’s got in mind.

“I was just thinking about how good it might feel to lick myself like that there dog, but it turns out my head won’t reach. Do you think maybe you could try it?”

“What on earth, Buford? Why? Why would I want to put my mouth on that?”

“Well look at that there dog. He’s been going at it for a good 10 minutes. I reckon it must feel pretty good. Come on! Just try it!”

That takes care of Buford’s dilemma but then I have to wonder about Gertrude and how on earth she figured that something like that was worth doing. How did she get talked into it? Did he promise her a bag of sugar or some pretty floral fabric? Was he someone she had long liked and wanted for herself and she decided this would be a great way to finally snare him for herself?

How did Gertrude convince Buford that she deserved a turn?

“You know, Buford, if it feels good for you then it will probably feel good for me as well. Why don’t you give it a try?”

Now the question becomes was Buford a giver as well as a taker or did Gertrude have to turn to Merle?

Yes, these are the very weird things I think about while I’m at work.