Mean People Suck

Sadly, that’s the majority of the population; or maybe it’s just that the few that are cruel stand out so much that you can’t get them out of your head … or your heart.

During Girl Scouts today my son told me he had spoken with the guardian ad litem (GAL) and told him that he only wanted to spend two days with his daddy and the rest of time with Mommy. It was all I could do to keep from sobbing. I feel the tears welling up yet again as I type. It would have been nice to know about this little meeting so I could have attended. Apparently I’m not a factor that needs to be considered. Fuckers. Both the GAL and Satan can rot in hell.



Just in case they’re reading I have a little message to pass on, “Back the fuck off and don’t interrogate my children, trying to get them say something negative about their mother when I’m not doing anything wrong. It causes them irreparable emotional harm and for that you will pay. Karma is a bitch and so am I."

The son of a bitch GAL was ordered by the state office to reinitiate contact with me well over a year ago. He still hasn’t. I guess that’s what happens when a private GAL is supposed to be assigned so as to not create a conflict of interests based on Satan’s employer, but instead they assign the brother of a state representative to the case. Did I mention Satan works for the state? Yep … the court system.

My daughter later told me that she saw the GAL flipping through a file that had papers in it that looked like my MySpace page. A couple of years ago Satan took me to court to try to get me to take my page down because I had posted this picture of my family:



He said I was using my kids to bate men. Yep, that’s exactly what every man is looking for, a chick with two kids. Idiot. I made my page private to keep him off it. Feel free to take a look at ALL of the pictures of my kids. They’re beautiful and they have beautiful hearts! God bless them! Don’t miss the slide shows!





Prior to going to court I searched the web and found a photo site where Satan's mother had posted tons of pictures of the grandkids. One in particular was a crotch shot of my daughter on the playground. I don't think she meant any harm by posting the photo, but it was a hell of a lot more dangerous and made her more vulnerable to predators than the family photo I had posted. Besides, I'm her mother. I printed the photo and held it up in court explaining my point. The picture was soon after taken down.

I often wonder if some people have hearts. Not physiologically speaking, but compassion, true matters of the heart. The kind of true concern for humanity or any other living creature besides themselves. You know the kind. Don’t you?



When you see a hurt child and want to shed a tear, but don’t so you can help them and make them feel reassured due to your profound strength. They need that. You kind of hope it inspires them to do the same for others. We all need to feel like we matter to someone, if only for a time. The kind of true concern that makes you gasp out loud when you see a stray dog while driving in the car and you practically stop traffic to either get the creature safely in your vehicle or at least scurry it out of the road so it doesn’t get hit. Some of us still do this sort of thing; yes? If you don’t you should. I’m not saying you should put yourself in a position of danger, although some of us do, but you should give a damn. I do. Sadly, I do. It hurts to feel helpless, but hopeful.



Some people take advantage of your kindness. Others learn your weak spots and go for the jugular each time they see you a bit weak.



At least that’s what happens when you allow someone to really know you. You open yourself up to that. They can always use it against you, and some of them do. We’re all weak at times. Aren’t we?

I think sometimes I get so tired that I look people in the eye with an expression on my face that says, “What the hell do you want?” I don’t mean to, but I can’t hide the way I feel. It takes too much effort and I’m beat. Besides who want to be phony? Love me or hate me, but for God’s sake do it with passion, and maybe a little bit of class!



Why should someone have to live in fear of someone hurting them? It’s wrong. Deep down the threat of being hurt can be crippling. Sometimes it seems safe to hide away. Be a bitch. Don’t let anyone in. That gets lonely and I would know this well.

Peer into your soul, see into your own eyes, feel your heart, and keep your hands off others hearts if you only seek to squeeze the blood from it and feel the pleasure of the warmth running down your arm. The world doesn’t need anymore people like this. Of this I’m sure.

I’ve never hated anyone before. Not until Satan anyway. I hope that man dies a slow painful death and I get to watch. If that ever happens please bring me a dirty martini, pull up a chair, and bring the olive jar for our viewing pleasure. A video recorder would be nice as well so I can watch it again and again.



Thanks for reading.

Dating Experiment 9,999,999 - Part III

Here's the update. This is what's happened after date number two on Friday night.

The following Saturday Mr. Hot Rod comes into work looking for me. He couldn't find me and called because he knew I was there somewhere. We meet up, chit chat, and part with a hug.

Sunday Mr. Hot Rod comes into work again and gives me a little push as he walks up behind me. I, of course push him back, tell him I was just going on a break, and ask if he wants to come with me. He does. I meet him at the back of the building, he pulls his car up, gets out and sits outside on a bench with me.

We talk about what he might be doing later, what I might be doing after work, and I told him if he's still up when I'm off and wants to meet for a drink to give me a call, but he says he may call it an early night with work the next day. I say, "Well, I won't call and wake you up." He says, "If I'm sleeping I just don't pick up." Then he follows that with, "Well you know I won't call so you might want to." We laugh again.

After a short chat, thinking mischievously, not about the walking to the car thing, but having other thoughts in mind, I do in fact walk him to his car and tell him to get in. He looks at me, laughs, and says, "Are you putting me in my car?" To which I respond, "Something like that." With my back to the car I slide in on his lap. He looks a little nervous. I ask if he's ever driven like this before. He says, "A long time ago, but the guy was hard to hold on to." We laugh, I give him a quick kiss, wipe my lipstick off his mouth with my fingers, get out, head to the door, and turn to wave goodbye.



I think to myself, "What a cute approach. How can he resist that?"

I didn't hear from the bastard for 2 ½ weeks, other than a few non-committal emails. I mean, I know he went home for Christmas for a week, but come on already! Finally he calls me somewhere between 11 and 12 p.m. He said he figured I'd be just getting off work and he just wanted to say, "Hey." I said, "Well, Hey." He didn't try to make a date, didn't ask what my schedule was like, didn't say, "Gosh I'd like to see you." There are a lot of things he didn't say.

He did mention he was having surgery to laser open his nasal cavities and have tubes put in his ears for drainage in a couple of days. Of course, being a mother I had to drown him in questions:

"How are you getting there? How are you getting home? Is anyone staying with you after the surgery?" He's not really close to anyone here. Big surprise, huh?

I offered to get him safely to and from surgery. At first he said he didn't like to ask anyone to do anything for him, but after I told him he wasn't asking and I was simply offering, he accepted.

I call him the night before to confirm what time I'm picking him up. He sounded stressed due to his pending surgery. I told him I might stop by after work to say, "Hello." He accepts and then calls later that night while I'm working to cancel, sighting being nervous about surgery as his excuse. What's up with that? At this point I'm thinking I could show up naked at his front door and the guy wouldn't have a clue what to do.

I arrive the next morning to take him to surgery, get him safely inside and registered, hug him goodbye, and tell the nurse to kick his ass if he doesn't behave.

Later I get a call from the clinic that he's in recovery and I can come pick him up. When I get there the nurse comes to take me back; I hesitate for a minute and decide to pour myself a cup of coffee because it's been my experience that men are kind of wimpy when they're sick and I'm guessing we're going to be there for awhile. Thank God I left my kids with my mother. It's a good thing I was prepared. When I get to recovery Mr. Hot Rod is cold on his back with blood running down his face on mega-strong drugs.

With blood on my hands, at one point I do decide to say, "I think now is a good time to ask if you have any infectious diseases I need to know about."



He's a six-foot-four cry baby and I'm there for three-and-a-half hours, literally wiping his nose. Blood is pouring down his face and his neck is sore from the surgery. I, of course, rub his neck, hold his hand, keep him covered with blankets, and feed him ice chips and coke.

The nurses tell him over and over again what a sweet-heart I am to take care of him. He says nothing. I wonder what he's thinking?

At one point his whining was kind of getting to me, so I lean over the railing of his bed, look him deep in the eyes and say softly, "Do you know that if men had to have babies the entire human species would die out?" The nurse laughs her ass off. He utters a little chuckle. It is true though; isn't it ladies?

Maybe they did the wrong procedure on him.



They try to get him up to wheel him to the bathroom. He's dizzy and gets nauseous. This just keeps getting better and better; doesn't it? I help him dress and quickly call my housemate to have her throw my sheets in the wash so I have a place to put him. I can't in good conscious leave him home alone unable to care for himself. I figured I'd sleep with my daughter for the night. I tell him I'm taking him home with me. He wants to go to his place, so that's exactly where I take him. I drop him off, get him settled on the couch with pillows and a blanket, and run to Walgreen's to fill his prescriptions. He gives me his debit card and his PIN. Upon my return I tell him I spent $500 at the mall. He says, "Okay." I wonder if he ever checked his bank statement???

Before I leave his place I line all his medications up, put drops in his ears, rub them in, fix him a piece of toast, and tell him to answer his phone when I call because I will be checking on him. He said he would as long as he wasn't sleeping. I say, "Answer it even if you're sleeping or I'll send the paramedics over to your apartment." Without fail, he answers each time I call for the next couple of days, but one day he doesn't answer. I show up at his door. When he answers I say, "Good. You're alive. Bye." and start to leave. He invites me in and thanks me for checking on him.

On the drive home from the clinic he thanks me repeatedly for taking care of him. He continues to thank me each time we speak.

Monday he had the packing taken out of his nose and was a miserable mess. Yesterday he asks to stop by. He does and we visit for a little while. Again, he tells me to call him, followed by, "You know I only go to work and then home, so I'm never doing anything." I tell him he can call me if he wants to see me, ask what my schedule is like, and plan a time to get together. He says, "Like I never call you."

I say, "You don't." He tells me he has weekend warrior duty coming up and maybe we can get together one night during the weekend. I'm not holding my breath for a phone call.

Remember his car I wrote about?

Here's a better picture of it. Too bad he doesn't know how to drive. ;p



I hope he has fun with that car.

Drive away son ... drive away FAST!



I had a date last night with K****, a very cute Captain I met while renewing my ID badge on the base last week. I have a date Thursday with R*****, a sickeningly cute Master-Sergeant from the base who can always make me laugh. K**** and R***** know how to use a telephone. Yay for them! They've done their mother's proud! I'd sure like to have a chat with R***'s mother. If she ever tried to teach him how to court a woman, something apparently got lost in the communication.



Ladies and Gents, what kind words would you tell Mr. Hot Rod upon his next contact. Would you even bother seeing him again? I didn't help him out for any kind of pay-off, but wouldn't it be cordial to ask to buy me a drink or take me to dinner? I'm quite sure I'll hear from him … although it could very well be weeks.