trade you a Ramen for a cigarette I'm not feeling particularly inspired today, but the house is reasonably clean- at least there are no disease-causing messes- the baby is asleep and, well, I'm just another lonely housewife livin' it up in the American West. My parents were here yesterday. They got the baby all riled up and then left, wafting pizza farts behind them. That makes my parents sound pretty, awesome, I know. Actually they're great, but they have slipped into the steriotypical role of grandparents MUCH too easily. I got a letter from my ex-husband yesterday. He had dropped off the face of the Earth and I figured he was back in the 'ol slammer because of probation violation from smoking weed to cut the nausea from his chemo. Well, sure enough: slammer. But his incarceration is due to a new charge: felon in possession of a firearm, first degree. Yay! I guess he systematically destroyed everything in his room a la The Wall, except there were a gun involved. He shot multiple bullets into his computer. There is something very emotionally gratifying about killing your computer with a gun, I know, but come on people. So he is facing "three strikes you're out", that lovely poopy vindictive asshole of a law passed by our friendly neighborhood Republican slimeball robots. And I won't apologize for that remark. Not that the Democrats are angels, I don't care what Al Franken says. Did I ever document what my ex's first two strikes were about? Well, the day I left town to come here, he robbed the convenience store where I used to work (and where he was known to most of the clerks). Anyway, he tried to get away, and lead the police on a "high-speed" chase in his 24-foot RV. So the second strike was eluding, I guess. Anyway, at some point he pulled over and took off on foot, tried to climb over a razor wire fence, got caught and was hanging upside-down on the far side of the fence, caught by his clothes, I think, too bad it wasn't his testicles. Now, I don't mean that. Anyway, this dipshit cop tries to FOLLOW him over the fence, gets stuck as well, is hanging upside-down caught, too bad it wasn't by his balls and yes I DO mean that, pointing a gun at my ex's head, both of them upside down, the cop saying "Don't move mutherfucker" or some cop jargon- Anyway, they both ended up in the hospital and my ex went to prison for a while. Yay! Now, I would have thouroghly enjoyed that episode of COPS, if it had appeared on there. So, they confiscated the RV and the poor prostitute and her speedballs inside, along with the stolen money and a bunch of anarchist literature. I have dreams a lot about my husband turning into my ex, and you can see why it disturbs me. But anyhow, this time they might try to put my "poor" ex in the psycho ward, instead of prison for life. Whatever! He tried to commit suicide while he was in the last time, and his counselor tried to blame it on me and keep him from writing me. This is a guy who has no one- his parents have a restraining order against him now, for crissake- and the counselor is trying to keep him from writing me. He says it wasn't my fault but now I wonder. It happened right after I told him I was preggo with Juniper. I mean, my husband did used to be his best friend... Next on Jenny Jones, teen midget porn stars out of control. I'm cold, I need to put socks on. |