Sunday, January 29, 2006
Did ya ever just have one of those milleniums?
I don't just have bad days, weeks, months like normal folks. Mine seem to come in larger numbers. If you've read The Christmas Eve Incident... and/or Happy New Year???!!! then you'll know my year didn't end or start on a high note! Also, not posted here, we had to take my Mom to the ER one week after Pop went. Fortunately she is fine. But, the hits just keep on acomin'! Now my faithful chariot is in the transmission shop. I talked to them on Friday...$580.00 PLUS tax. I'm hoping to have it back on Monday (please,please,please,please,please,please). Pop is going to have surgery on Tuesday the 31st to have a defibrillator implanted. I REALLLLLY need that car back. My youngest and I will need to go over to Pop and Mom's every day for a week or so to feed their dogs (outdoor dogs) since Pop won't be able to do it. Le sigh. In the mean time I guess I'll just take deep breaths and think happy thoughts. Yeah right!!!
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Okay, it's time to bring back public hangings
When I saw this headline, (Man Facing Charges Of Impregnating 10-Year-Old) I had to do a double take. This is absolutely unbelieveable. Why on earth would someone do something like this? First should come a public lashing with a cat o' nine-tails, then the hanging. There is no excuse for this type of behavior. I can just hear the defense attorney now, "Oh, we're gonna go with a mentally ill defense. Make 'em feel sorry for ya." Well, horse crap on that! Flog him, then hang the no good, low down, worthless bastard.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
I don't like Windows!
Due to the post office not having enough stamps to go around (you'd think they would have printed a butt load, it's not like they're not going to sell)I was forced to seek postage elsewhere. There are several sites listed on the post office site that are supposed to allow you to print your own postage. So, I check them all out and decide on the one that will print the postage directly on to the envelope. I was feeling pretty good about the situation until I came across the following:
"Apple Macintosh users: Our software currently does not natively support the Apple Macintosh platform. However, many of our Macintosh customers use a Windows emulator software to run the xxxxxx.com software."
Okay, I can handle that. We have Windows emulator software. My eldest son graciously installed the software and I was off and running - or so I thought. I've never seen anything so slow in my life. I could have taken a nap while each envelope was printing. And, now I have to worry about those nasty little viruses Windows is vulnerable to. Do I really need stamps that bad? I'm beginning to wonder. A lot of folks seem to think that Mac users are a lower life form.
That includes my two youngest sons who think Windows is the best thing since sliced bread! I beg to disagree! I'm just not lovin' it!!!
"Apple Macintosh users: Our software currently does not natively support the Apple Macintosh platform. However, many of our Macintosh customers use a Windows emulator software to run the xxxxxx.com software."
Okay, I can handle that. We have Windows emulator software. My eldest son graciously installed the software and I was off and running - or so I thought. I've never seen anything so slow in my life. I could have taken a nap while each envelope was printing. And, now I have to worry about those nasty little viruses Windows is vulnerable to. Do I really need stamps that bad? I'm beginning to wonder. A lot of folks seem to think that Mac users are a lower life form.
That includes my two youngest sons who think Windows is the best thing since sliced bread! I beg to disagree! I'm just not lovin' it!!!
Friday, January 06, 2006
The Christmas Eve Incident...or, Attack of the Moron
For those of you who have read my previous posts regarding my "quest" for a divorce, following is an account of the infamous Christmas Eve incident. This is from my son's blog. I have edited out some of the more "adult" language. Don't want to offend anyone! Doesn't bother me. But some may not appreciate his brutal honesty. I personally think my son is the BEST!! This makes for interesting reading though it wasn't fun at the time. Read on!!
My Redneck Christmas Eve…
So I almost ended up murdering someone on Christmas Eve.
Do I have your attention yet?
So here’s the deal…I’ll start at the beginning, which is always an excellent place to start. Unless your life is like the movie Memento which is a simple and straightforward little tale when compared to the serenity which is my family life.
Every year my grandparents invite all of us over to their house for a Christmas Eve party. The attendees also include my aunt from Atlanta and her family but also the family of close friends of my Grandparents. Even though they’re not technically “related” to us, I and the rest of us consider them to be part of our family.
Around noon, Mom, Brian and Andrew decide to head over to the Grandparents in order to help them get everything ready for the upcoming festivities. Grandma and Papa were hit especially hard by the ice storm a couple of weeks back and at one point I was pressing hard to have the party moved to my house in order to make it a little easier on everyone involved. The Grandparents said no and the rest was soon to become history.
About 4:30 (2 full hours before any of the guests would start to arrive) my father pulls into the shared driveway between my Grandparents house and my former childhood home. No one really notices anything unusual until they begin to hear the horn of his car blaring loudly and proudly throughout the neighborhood.
It’s assumed, and logically so, that his girlfriend/punching bag/cash cow is down at the old Kilpatrick homestead and Daddy dearest is simply impatient for her to get a move on so he can continue to sample the very best Milwaukee has to offer.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. He was alone, drunk and filled with the vigor that only alcohol and the knowledge that no one is around who’s capable or willing to stand up to him can bring.
Soon he’s screaming “Where is she?” and “Why won’t she come out here and see me?” These questions are of course all directed towards my Mother as she is in the process of divorcing his hairy little troll ass. All during his little tirade he’s laying on the car horn, revving the engine to the point of distress, spinning the tires in the driveway and basically making an obnoxious ass out of himself.
Wisely, no one answers his laughable summons and while they are shaken, they remain filled with the Christmas spirit and continue preparing for their yuletide gathering.
Dad leaves, but only after becoming so entangled in the complexities of “backing out of the driveway” that it takes him several attempts to get out into the road. During his escape from the devilry that is my Grandparents simple straight in and out driveway, he backs into their mailbox reducing it to splinters and hopefully causing severe damage to his piece of s**t car.
A few minutes pass and then the horn is heard again. He’s back ladies and gentlemen!
This time, He’s pulled in directly behind my Grandparents car, laying on the horn, gunning the engine, spinning the tires and shouting obscenities.
While my father does his best drunken Jeff Gordon impersonation, my grandfather calls the police. Once they get there and while he’s talking to the patrolman he thinks he sees Dad driving down the road…apparently attempting to pull off the trifecta of assholiness.
Cut to my house, some 20 minutes away…the calm before the storm as it were.
Carla and I aren’t feeling especially chipper and have just decided that we’re not going to be able to attend the Christmas Eve party. It’ll be the first one I’ve ever missed and while I’m kinda bummed I’ll be missing it I just don’t feel like going and I especially don’t want to go without Carla. I call with my sincerest apologies and deliver the news that we won’t be attending but I will be seeing my Grandparents on Christmas day for dinner at my house.
There’s a strange tension on the other end of the phone. My mother says she needs to talk to me…there’s a pause, and when she returns to the line she’s crying.
The story of harassment is relayed and I am MOST displeased. Mom wasn’t going to say anything about it to me but finally did so at the urging of my Grandmother who felt I needed to know what was going on. Mom said she was also very much looking forward to my being there because she simply felt safer if I was in close proximity. That was all I needed to hear.
I’m so angry I literally cannot stop shaking. I’m prepared to do things…violent and brutal things.
I get dressed, tell Carla to go to her mother’s house in order to make sure she’s taken care of and set off on a leisurely jaunt to Easley and my date with aggression, anger and patricide.
When I arrive I don’t really get out of my car…I launch out ready to f*****g throw down. I’m here for one reason and one reason only…to f*****g hurt someone. I didn’t come for the cocktail weenies, deviled egg sandwiches, sausage balls or chex mix. In the immortal words of “Rowdy” Roddy Piper from the movie They Live, “I came here to chew bubblegum and kick ass…and I’m all out of bubblegum.” You’re damn right…out of bubblegum indeed.
Inside, my Mother is trying to convince me that there’s no way Dad will come back…not when all the folks are there. He’s simply too big a coward to mess with people who are not only fully capable of putting his fat ass in traction but highly f*****g motivated to do it as well.
I know differently…I KNOW he’ll be back. Even if it’s just to ride down the road and blow the horn like a big p***y.
My brother Andrew casually mentions that he’s probably at the VFW (Veteran’s of Fine Wine) across the highway and only about half a mile from my Grandparents house. I ask “You really think so?” as I’m grabbing my coat and heading out the door…only to be tackled by my Grandfather and Mother who beg me not to go.
“He’s not worth getting in trouble for” they tell me…”You’ll end up in jail and it’s not worth it”…B******t, it’s totally f*****g worth it I tell them…take your hands off me.
“I just want to ride by and see if he’s there, I’ll come right back”…which was an absolute and total lie. If you had been driving a white GMC Jimmy and had happened to have been at that particular VFW then you would’ve come out only to find your car had no windows, four flat tires and the my phone number spray painted on your f*****g hood. Sorry about that…it would’ve been an honest mistake. No hard feelings right?
After being forced to promise I wouldn’t go decimate the VFW, I assumed my place in a shadowy spot outside. I met every car as it pulled up…
As people began to arrive, I made them aware of the situation, told them politely that I’m not here for the party and that I’m only here to break someone’s f*****g jaw if given the chance.
Please…pretty please with sugar on top.
About 7:45 as I’m standing in the shadows of my Grandparents house when I see a strangely familiar set of headlights. The 1999 white GMC Jimmy slowly comes around the corner towards…me.
As it continues to slow I take off after them…it’s him. Dear God…what a wonderful Christmas present.
He sees me and speeds up.
“Hey, come here…I thought you wanted to talk to someone? Get the fuck back here and talk to me m**********r! Are you gonna sit in the road and blow the horn like a f*****g p***y or are you going to come back up here so we can f*****g talk?”
“Where you goin’? I thought you were billy f*****g bad-ass tonight? You’ll come f**k with two 75 year old people, a woman and two children but you won’t come talk that s**t to one man?”
Alas, he was gone. My grandfather was pleading with me to come inside. I was having none of it…I was standing dead center in the middle of the road where anyone who wanted to could see me quite easily…and see me he did.
This is my home and my family. I will not stand for threats or intimidation towards my family…ever.
So on the off-chance this should be seen by a certain pair of eyes…know this. My f*****g address hasn’t changed, I still work at the same place and my phone numbers are all the f*****g same.
Come talk that s**t to me and see what it gets your ass.
You and I are done…from that day until time untold I have no father. You’re no relation to me. I’ll not be associated with anyone who conducts themselves in such a base and cowardly manner.
Eventually, you and I will cross paths again…it’s inevitable.
And on that day you’d best be ready, because I sure as hell will be.
My Redneck Christmas Eve…
So I almost ended up murdering someone on Christmas Eve.
Do I have your attention yet?
So here’s the deal…I’ll start at the beginning, which is always an excellent place to start. Unless your life is like the movie Memento which is a simple and straightforward little tale when compared to the serenity which is my family life.
Every year my grandparents invite all of us over to their house for a Christmas Eve party. The attendees also include my aunt from Atlanta and her family but also the family of close friends of my Grandparents. Even though they’re not technically “related” to us, I and the rest of us consider them to be part of our family.
Around noon, Mom, Brian and Andrew decide to head over to the Grandparents in order to help them get everything ready for the upcoming festivities. Grandma and Papa were hit especially hard by the ice storm a couple of weeks back and at one point I was pressing hard to have the party moved to my house in order to make it a little easier on everyone involved. The Grandparents said no and the rest was soon to become history.
About 4:30 (2 full hours before any of the guests would start to arrive) my father pulls into the shared driveway between my Grandparents house and my former childhood home. No one really notices anything unusual until they begin to hear the horn of his car blaring loudly and proudly throughout the neighborhood.
It’s assumed, and logically so, that his girlfriend/punching bag/cash cow is down at the old Kilpatrick homestead and Daddy dearest is simply impatient for her to get a move on so he can continue to sample the very best Milwaukee has to offer.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. He was alone, drunk and filled with the vigor that only alcohol and the knowledge that no one is around who’s capable or willing to stand up to him can bring.
Soon he’s screaming “Where is she?” and “Why won’t she come out here and see me?” These questions are of course all directed towards my Mother as she is in the process of divorcing his hairy little troll ass. All during his little tirade he’s laying on the car horn, revving the engine to the point of distress, spinning the tires in the driveway and basically making an obnoxious ass out of himself.
Wisely, no one answers his laughable summons and while they are shaken, they remain filled with the Christmas spirit and continue preparing for their yuletide gathering.
Dad leaves, but only after becoming so entangled in the complexities of “backing out of the driveway” that it takes him several attempts to get out into the road. During his escape from the devilry that is my Grandparents simple straight in and out driveway, he backs into their mailbox reducing it to splinters and hopefully causing severe damage to his piece of s**t car.
A few minutes pass and then the horn is heard again. He’s back ladies and gentlemen!
This time, He’s pulled in directly behind my Grandparents car, laying on the horn, gunning the engine, spinning the tires and shouting obscenities.
While my father does his best drunken Jeff Gordon impersonation, my grandfather calls the police. Once they get there and while he’s talking to the patrolman he thinks he sees Dad driving down the road…apparently attempting to pull off the trifecta of assholiness.
Cut to my house, some 20 minutes away…the calm before the storm as it were.
Carla and I aren’t feeling especially chipper and have just decided that we’re not going to be able to attend the Christmas Eve party. It’ll be the first one I’ve ever missed and while I’m kinda bummed I’ll be missing it I just don’t feel like going and I especially don’t want to go without Carla. I call with my sincerest apologies and deliver the news that we won’t be attending but I will be seeing my Grandparents on Christmas day for dinner at my house.
There’s a strange tension on the other end of the phone. My mother says she needs to talk to me…there’s a pause, and when she returns to the line she’s crying.
The story of harassment is relayed and I am MOST displeased. Mom wasn’t going to say anything about it to me but finally did so at the urging of my Grandmother who felt I needed to know what was going on. Mom said she was also very much looking forward to my being there because she simply felt safer if I was in close proximity. That was all I needed to hear.
I’m so angry I literally cannot stop shaking. I’m prepared to do things…violent and brutal things.
I get dressed, tell Carla to go to her mother’s house in order to make sure she’s taken care of and set off on a leisurely jaunt to Easley and my date with aggression, anger and patricide.
When I arrive I don’t really get out of my car…I launch out ready to f*****g throw down. I’m here for one reason and one reason only…to f*****g hurt someone. I didn’t come for the cocktail weenies, deviled egg sandwiches, sausage balls or chex mix. In the immortal words of “Rowdy” Roddy Piper from the movie They Live, “I came here to chew bubblegum and kick ass…and I’m all out of bubblegum.” You’re damn right…out of bubblegum indeed.
Inside, my Mother is trying to convince me that there’s no way Dad will come back…not when all the folks are there. He’s simply too big a coward to mess with people who are not only fully capable of putting his fat ass in traction but highly f*****g motivated to do it as well.
I know differently…I KNOW he’ll be back. Even if it’s just to ride down the road and blow the horn like a big p***y.
My brother Andrew casually mentions that he’s probably at the VFW (Veteran’s of Fine Wine) across the highway and only about half a mile from my Grandparents house. I ask “You really think so?” as I’m grabbing my coat and heading out the door…only to be tackled by my Grandfather and Mother who beg me not to go.
“He’s not worth getting in trouble for” they tell me…”You’ll end up in jail and it’s not worth it”…B******t, it’s totally f*****g worth it I tell them…take your hands off me.
“I just want to ride by and see if he’s there, I’ll come right back”…which was an absolute and total lie. If you had been driving a white GMC Jimmy and had happened to have been at that particular VFW then you would’ve come out only to find your car had no windows, four flat tires and the my phone number spray painted on your f*****g hood. Sorry about that…it would’ve been an honest mistake. No hard feelings right?
After being forced to promise I wouldn’t go decimate the VFW, I assumed my place in a shadowy spot outside. I met every car as it pulled up…
As people began to arrive, I made them aware of the situation, told them politely that I’m not here for the party and that I’m only here to break someone’s f*****g jaw if given the chance.
Please…pretty please with sugar on top.
About 7:45 as I’m standing in the shadows of my Grandparents house when I see a strangely familiar set of headlights. The 1999 white GMC Jimmy slowly comes around the corner towards…me.
As it continues to slow I take off after them…it’s him. Dear God…what a wonderful Christmas present.
He sees me and speeds up.
“Hey, come here…I thought you wanted to talk to someone? Get the fuck back here and talk to me m**********r! Are you gonna sit in the road and blow the horn like a f*****g p***y or are you going to come back up here so we can f*****g talk?”
“Where you goin’? I thought you were billy f*****g bad-ass tonight? You’ll come f**k with two 75 year old people, a woman and two children but you won’t come talk that s**t to one man?”
Alas, he was gone. My grandfather was pleading with me to come inside. I was having none of it…I was standing dead center in the middle of the road where anyone who wanted to could see me quite easily…and see me he did.
This is my home and my family. I will not stand for threats or intimidation towards my family…ever.
So on the off-chance this should be seen by a certain pair of eyes…know this. My f*****g address hasn’t changed, I still work at the same place and my phone numbers are all the f*****g same.
Come talk that s**t to me and see what it gets your ass.
You and I are done…from that day until time untold I have no father. You’re no relation to me. I’ll not be associated with anyone who conducts themselves in such a base and cowardly manner.
Eventually, you and I will cross paths again…it’s inevitable.
And on that day you’d best be ready, because I sure as hell will be.
Monday, January 02, 2006
Happy New Year???!!!
The day was going fairly well yesterday. I cooked a pretty big dinner for the boys and myself. We were all stuffed and planning to just hang around the house and digest until bedtime! Not to be!! Around 6pm my Mom called and said Pop was having severe pain in his right lung area and needed to go to the ER. Since neither of them can see well enough to drive after dark, Dan and I headed over there. We got to the ER at St. Francis (Bon Secours) Hospital around 7pm. After 5 1/2 hours, blood tests, lung x-rays and CT scans we got the great news that it was just some inflamation in his lungs (no blood clots - thank God!!!). To the staff at St. Francis I just want to say you are first rate. We were well-treated. The nurses were friendly, kind and caring (my Dad is a real comic and they played along with him which made his day). The doctor was thorough and continuously reassured us that they would find out what was wrong. All of our questions were answered completely and without a hint of annoyance (we can be annoying on occasion, especially where Mom and Pop are concerned!). A toast to the staff at St. Francis! You guys rock!!!!!
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