Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Sexy Lady

I got a new car. No, I mean I got a new, used car. For some reason, I bought a Chrysler. Maybe it's because I'm into leather an' sh*t, but maybe it's because I only had a thousand bucks. It has some problems, but it sure is pretty . . . a lot like most of my ex-girlfriends and wives . . . what the hell is wrong with me?

Today, I found out that the passenger side trailing link had been replaced with a piece of 1-inch pipe. God, what is wrong with people?

Excuse me, but I have to go polish it.

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Leave My Kid Out Of It!

The end of a marriage is like a death of a patriarch where the survivors choose to spend the rest of their days picking over the bones of the estate of what can no longer be changed, just for sport, it seems. F*cking assholes.

Here's an e-mail I wrote to my crazy-ass ex-wife regarding her insipid use of my child as blackmail. I print it here only because I like the pretty words.

In order to respond to your false characterization, I would need to point out that you insisted on raising unrelated issues using strong and intimidating language and making statements that were patently false and argumentative, but rather than do that, I would prefer that you simply understand that I'm asking you to reciprocate the support I've provided consistently to shore up our daughter's view of this period as one of difficulty and strife between her parents but not having anything to do with her directly.

My behavior has been consistent and responsible. I have done my best to not respond in difficult and belligerent encounters in kind. On the other hand, there is a limit. When I asked you to respect me as a human being and allow me to simply finish a sentence, you cut me off as seems to be your practice, indicating to me that you don't need to hear what I have to say. I beg to differ.

While you may not want to interact with me on any level for whatever reasons you have that are yours alone, I do desire assent and cooperation from you regarding (our daughter), but I don't require it. I feel I have left you the maximum leeway in all of the issues I've raised thus far without any consideration for my role and my interest in (our daughter). However, I have told you, time and again, that it's unfair and less than responsible for any parent to leverage their child. I haven't done that. That's just not right.

I will say this - I will not play dirty. Perhaps this is a disadvantage, but I have my own sense of honor and my obligation to (our daughter) to consider, in terms of whatever legacy of experience she has to draw on from this time.You can call this conciliatory or self-serving, that's your choice. It's also your choice to make the best of a less-than-ideal situation. You have an opportunity to make a difference in how this will be remembered. I would be disappointed to think that you're not up to the challenge.

So, this is basically all a waste of time since the only way I can get this resolved is by going to court, over and over again. When I say "crazy-assed," I mean that she actually does exhibit, quite clearly, all of the indicators of BPD and will likely lapse into some form of madness soon. Real soon, now. Whew - dodged another bullet. Maybe my luck is coming back . . .

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

This Is The End, My Only Friend, The End

Today, I sold my van. Yay. I felt 12 seconds of guilt when signing over the title and then thought, caveat emptor, sucka, then pocketed the dough. I rented a car and am now tasked with finding a usable vehicle for around $1000. Not so easy a task when under the gun of a daily rental with so much else going on.

I got, read and approved the unfair and imbalanced deal that is my settlement agreement that puts my divorce a pen stroke and rubber stamp away. Then, the clock starts ticking on getting the halibut outta here. Caveat emptor, yet again.

And I wondered about you. How I missed your enthusiam, like a rope dropped in a fast-flowing river, pointed at the drowning man, quickly sucked into the current, thus sealing his fate.

C'est la vie. N'est pas (vrai?)