Forever Tainted

How life gets in the way of the things we want to do…

Last night after work (both my work here in my office, and Lars’ evening work on the suite) we cuddled up and listened to his voice-mail together. We couldn’t change his number without losing them, so just in case there was something important in the mess we decided it better to do first. Finding the time to bother with the dribble was the hard part; but last night it was finally done. 17 000 messages from the ex, accusing him/us of stealing his dog and begging for him to call – promising she wasn’t going to stop calling until he answers her (pathetic), 2 or 3 messages from debt collections agencies asking FOR HER (disgusting, but not surprising), and one call from the RCMP about the dog (ridiculous).

The cop sounded annoyed that his time was being wasted on this, and actually said he really didn’t care, but the ex girlfriend claimed to be worried about the safety of the dog, so if we have M, to please give him a call and let him know that he’s safe. We’re not calling. And there’s fuck all that bitch or the RCMP can do about that. Your accusations, they’re a civil matter bitch. The RCMP can’t do anything for you – aside from try to appease you by making a phone call. It’s my legal right to ignore that message and you, cunt. Stop wasting my tax dollars by abusing the use of our police force (you spend enough of my money, being the ungrateful welfare bum that you are)!

His number has now been changed and that chapter of his life is done with. Though I’m certain, we’ll all exhale when we know she’s no longer on Canadian soil, leaching off our system. Never in my life have I come across such a delusional psychotic being.

~*~

I’ve spent a fair amount of time thinking about her feeble attempts at insulting me. Things like, ”If I’m a bad mom for leaving my 2 & 3 year-old children at home all alone where they might accidentally kill themselves, what about you for leaving the country your child is in?!” The concept of ‘It’s ok to be crappy because in my perspective I think others are shitty too’, is beyond me.

For the record, I’m not a bad mom and I’m ok with the decisions I’ve made regarding my son. By all means, I WAS a shitty, neglectful mother that couldn’t handle it even with maids and all sorts of help. I had trouble engaging my son in play, and spending any sort of quality time with him. I was too sick to make it to school functions. And though I wanted to spend every moment with him, I didn’t have the energy to do anything while he was around. It took five years but, I was finally able to see what a bad influence I was on my young sons life, and that is exactly why I made the choices I did – the best choices possible for both him and I – no matter how badly it hurt. My son is in fantastic care, with his father (who loves him very much), and other family who wouldn’t dare have left him alone for a minute when he was a toddler. He carries his own cell so he and I can talk, and the minute it’s possible he and I will be together again, I’m certain.

In the meantime, when Lars and I are ready to have our own children… I know that heart and soul, I’ll be prepared for it. They won’t be locked in a back room, while I watch movies or play on the net. They won't be left alone while I leave the house for any reason. Their only language won’t be of screaming and yelling. They’ll not be fed food that kills from places like McDonalds. And they’ll be loved, so very, very loved.

Other attempted insults like, ”I’m young and you’re old…" have me almost in stitches for so very many reasons. The first being the most obvious, I’m not old. Moving on, does she somehow suppose that she is the only person on earth that will somehow fight time, and stay forever young? Or is she really trying to turn into an insult something that she will evidently have to become? Does she view today, her tomorrow as an insult? ”Youth is wasted on the young.” God it must suck to see the world through her eyes. If getting back a decade meant I’d have to see the world as she does, I sure as fuck wouldn’t take those years back for the world!

Anyway, I’ve gone on for a rather long time about this… I think I’ll head on over to our new suite and see if there’s anything I can do. If not, maybe we’ll head out for a walk, or I’ll just curl back up in bed before I go into work this afternoon. It's a beautiful day... But I kinda feel like spending it in bed.

...I suppose you have a reason other than envy for the light contact-lenses too? I can't wait to hear it!

~*~

It occurred to me a few weeks ago that I only write in this blog for others. I hold a lot back on what I think, and feel, and all those pesky little details that are really making their way through my brain. It was preventing me from writing at all… The truth of the matter is, that’s been the case for years. People from my work read this blog. People from high places in the UAE read this blog. People I know and even people I don’t know read this blog. It sometimes gets distracting, thinking of who just might be in my thoughts here.

So I picked up a blank book and a pen and I started to journal. In case you were wondering where all my words went over the past little while, they’re hiding in a real book. It feels good.

I’m going to try to keep up with this public display of myself – and voice my disdain for certain others that I know read this (because well, it’s always fun to feed the animals), but for the most part, I’ll probably be rather quiet around here.

~*~

For shits and giggles, I’d love to hear your opinion (either in a private email or as a comment on this blog entry) as to what you think of a ‘mom’, who is informed her dog’s gone missing while on a walk with his true owner. Her reaction is one that she leaves her two toddler children at home alone and runs out to meet up with him, in search of the dog through the bushes. It takes less than 2 minutes for a child to drown, and I can think of a billion other ways a toddler can hurt themselves even die while unattended in the span of 20, 15, 10 or even 5 minutes. Is it ever ok to leave toddlers alone at home, or is the concept of toddlers having an adult caretaker a little like a seat-belt – even on short trips?

If you were this mother, would you be surprised that people called social services on you in the past? If you were this mother, would you be delusional enough to think you held anything but sheer neglect for your children? Or, if you were this mother would you repeatedly tell yourself what a great mother you are, with hopes that other’s will believe you and one day, you might become just that?

There’s no ‘if’, is there? In most rational people, a missing dog (no matter how much a part of your family, your heart and home) would never equate to the potential harm of neglecting your children. It takes a special kind of person to be this mother: the kind of person it takes to consider a trip to Walmart, and dinner at McDonalds a great success. It takes the same kind of special person to make wild accusations of thievery not because there is any evidence, but because she stole the item in question in the first place and only expects of other’s what she has done herself. (If we stole back a dog that was his already, I guarantee you we'd treat him better than you treat your children - and though we know you'd sacrifice them for the dog, it's only by a small amount you'd be willing to go. The dog was just a hair above them, wasn't he? And M probably knows that too, which is WHY he ran away in the first place. Call my man all you want with wild accusations, write them out in your blog, we haven't bothered to listen to your voice-mails and the number will be changed shortly.)

And there are special people out there, special enough to actually believe that this blog entry here, a response to threat made towards us, is enough to get governments talking. Sweet Poetic Justice. Not only am I waiting on the American Army to come get me, I'm now also waiting on the Canadian government and the RCMP, it seems. They have my name, you know.

They say ignorance is bliss, why the hell aren’t you more blissful?

Anyway… This has been fun, but it’s time for this fat cheese-like cow to get on with her day as that loser-love-of-her-life is only working a half day today. If I get all my chores done, we’ll have time to play before I go to work!

I get a tattoo on my wrist (with Lars), you get a tattoo on your wrists.
I sing Little Mermaid Songs (to Lars) & dye my hair red, and you dye your hair what you refer to as "Little Mermaid Red".
I re-format my blog to this nifty black design, you do the same.

Just odd.

Starting to think you have an obsession, and I should be scared. Really scared.

…you want him to pay your rent, you can go fuck yourself. Here’s a little reminder as to why:

FAIL!!!

WIN!!!


And yes… I encourage bad behaviour when it’s directed at the deserving. You are deserving.

~*~

We’ve been so busy over the last little while; I’ve hardly had time to keep up with Facebook, blogging or anything else online it seems. And so very much has happened… Starting with the least entertaining, that poisonous bitch’s landlord was calling around the 1st; on two of my house phone numbers and also Lars’s cell. Apparently, the low-rent (muwahahaha, I love using her words to accurately describe her) cyber-whoring, dog-thieving, cunt ex of his told the landlord Lars would be paying her rent in full this month. In realty, everyone knows she’s simply trying to skip out on paying her last month’s rent, like the low-life, Canadian-welfare abusing, half American scumbag she is. Go back to the States already, bitch. Our country has spent enough on you. I can think of far better places my tax dollars should go.

Lars quickly put an end to the accusation that he would be responsible, reminding the landlord that he’d already absolved Lars of the lease, and directing him to those pretty little words of hers above “(…) and don’t even worry about coming. Rent will be paid in full. I don’t need you or Lars so blow me, fat whore.”

No wonder her landlord hates her. I find amazing that anyone on earth finds reason not to.

Lars made clear to the landlord that as he mentioned last month and they agreed on even further in the past, he takes no further responsibility for that cunt’s lease, and the landlord can keep his damage deposit for all the inconvenience. I don’t suppose we’ll be hearing from him again, despite her multiple threats – as realistic and scary as the military ones. *brrrrr*, just thinking of the whole Army coming to get me still sends shivers down my spine. But I digress… you can understand the poor landlord’s frustration. Fucking low-life welfare renters like her are exactly what make my father and I go nuts, which brings me smoothly to my next thought…

The renovations of Lars and my suite are coming along well. We’ve done a lot more shopping, a lot more work, some painting and some prepping. Pretty soon, we’ll be putting down the floors and calling in the electricians to make sure my office is fully rigged and secure. Funny the importance of that, when today, I gave official notice to the boss’s daughter (and secondary owner of the company) that I am actively looking for a new job. A few weeks back I decided to look for a secondary job, to bring in supplemental income (there’s this beautiful $500,000, 3.5 acre piece of land here I want to buy when it goes up for sale in a year or two), but now, I’m thinking straight-up replacement position.

I was only given a partial raise as to what I asked for. I’ve now applied for easier jobs where the starting salary is more than I am making here – after two years of service and multiple accomplishments. It breaks my heart to do this, but I have to start thinking more about me than those I love and I do love my job and the company owners and my colleagues, but right now, between the low pay, the stressful unforgiving nature of the job, and the constant stress that seems to be in the office these days, not to mention the direct insults that were swung at me yesterday though perhaps not really meant for me, I’m just about done.

There’s more going on, but I’m tired and my food just arrived.