Monday, January 14, 2008

Hole Sweet Hell - Volume 2

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4:04pm ..

“You know that your mother is coming? Greektradgedius Intraining just went to pick her up and she’s here until Thursday,” chimed Greektradgedius Inyiddish as she had just invaded my space within minutes of savoring another Colts choke. Even though I had muttered “whatever” and did my best {as always} to make her feel unwelcome and just go away, the real answer would have been “FUCK NO I DIDN’T, and YOU Fucking Know It!” but what was the point? I have learned over the last 5 years of living in the third realm of hell, that my opinion or happiness means little. Spending this week trapped like a rat in my own house followed by a week of babysitting a mentally diminishing father is of no matter to any of these harpies.

The last conversation I had had with my mother was actually to her answering machine while I was out in Florida. I am weak, like are all men in the realm of Gandor, and can’t be trusted with a ring of power. I was down there, I was scared because I had no money and was worrying about my mentally unstable father, while all of the grifters down there had ransacked his house and stolen everything that I had hoped to live off of while down there. At 37 years old {despite 37 years of evidence that it was totally foolhardy} I got a message on my voicemail from my mother, and I called her back hoping for some emotional support. She never called me back. It makes sense because dealing with a 37 year old son who was scared and confused would have been just as hard, if not harder than dealing with a 6 year old son who was scared and confused. We all know how she dealt with that, and worst of all, I know how she dealt with that better than anyone. I actually didn’t let it get to me, because I was the idiot for thinking it would do me any good.

I came home from taking my father to one of his bazillion doctor’s appointments during the time he was here and received the message from GTIY that my mother had called looking for my father. She was “Really Concerned” about him and wanted to know what was going on, and I was LIVID! My mind finally snapped into focus as I realized that the last thing my mentally diminishing father needed was to talk to that manipulating harpy that has only talked to him long enough to borrow money over the last 3 decades, and this must have been the route she was taking after she realized he wasn’t dead, and I didn’t have an inheritance. I was focused when I stated unequivocally that if anyone in that house let her talk to my father “I would fucking kill her and then fucking kill them,” which appeared to be understood as I spoke so eloquently in the old Saxony. I swore {as always that I would never speak to my own mother again, and I had every intention of fulfilling that oath, and made it completely known when I refused to talk top her on Christmas.

Let’s go back a few months to when we were having all of the wars between the holidays, and you will see why it makes me so angry. My family put me through agony over allowing my children’s other family to be involved in their holidays. They beat up on me every time their mother calls them, and they create complete and unapologetic havoc because I married a loser. I married an untrustworthy slut. I had children with a bad mother. I did exactly what my father did. After I was done with all of my screaming over their hypocrisy in all of this because they make my life a nightmare for wishing to have nothing to do with my equivalent of my children’s biggest bane, I was stupid enough to think that they may have finally understood. More proof that I am a total idiot. More to the point, it is more proof to why I have to get out of here and never look back the second my children are past the age of 18. It was after all what my father did, and he was correct, even if he is a burden at times to me, I totally understand where he stands when he refuses to live here.

There is no relief from any of these things either because the people that I live with are either too stupid or too evil to accept that what they do is just plain wrong. The second my mother arrived here GTIY came down to tell me and demanded that I come upstairs. I told her to fuck off {and yes it is a complete acceptance of my wonton need to disrespect those around me as they would do to me} so she then started sending the kids down to do it every few minutes. Now just to put it all into perspective it wasn’t just the fact that they sprung a visit from my mother on me, but they did it during football, while I was writing in my novels. I was LIVID, and started telling the kids that I was too busy. HOW FUCKING DARE THESE PEOPLE! She finally just came barging down into my space {and why shouldn’t she, they ALL DO} and of course like anyone else around here, she needed things from me. She had a broken laptop, and an MP3 player that she couldn’t get working and wanted me to fix them for her.

Her old Dell {Chinese for “Piece of Shit”} laptop had a totally burned out power inverter, and because of that it never would power her stupid MP3 player, so I took the easy way out and gave her one of my old laptops {5 year old IBM Thinkpad} and set up the MP3 player to work with it, while I tried to salvage the rest of my Football day. This is what you do in my family unfortunately. You buy off your peace. I fucking hate this, and now here I am sitting in my office simply praying that everyone will leave me the fuck alone, which isn’t easy considering that the schools are closed today because of another 3 feet of snow that fell last night. This also equals hell at work because snow means extra work, and what was to be my last week of peace before my father comes back to stink up my bedroom while I hurt my back again sleeping on the futon will be ten fold hell. The best news in all of this is that I have finally decided that this is war, and will spend the wee after my father leaves making everyone in this house pay. Ok it felt good to say that but realistically it will be back to praying for the next ten years of my life to end so I can escape ;8o)

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Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

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