Saturday, October 1, 2016

The Life I Lead...

Yeah, it's me again.  I do this sometimes, ya know, that thing where I actually give a shit about life and try to make a go of things?  So fuck what you heard it's what you hearin.  Yup, I'm quoting DMX.  What else to you expect the girl with the Deadpool tattoo to do?

Damn I hate this shit though...I hate the not knowing.  But I do know this:  It always works out the way it's supposed to.  Always.  Today is a significant date for me, for Ronnie, for our family.  My whole world changed 12 years ago, and for the worse, for the better, forever.  I lost a baby 12 years ago today.  Not a miscarriage per se, but a premature stillbirth due to amniotic infection.  It's a long story, I think I've told the story before if you look back through the archives and I choose not to taint my happiness today with the hurt and heartache retelling it causes.  So I won't.  Needless to say,  he was lost, and it changes a person.

Forever changed the landscape of my history.  A history that is filled with things most people think are made up and manipulated for attentions sake or humor, but most are either downplayed or are told the way they are.  Because it is who I am.  I came across this on my Facebook newsfeed today and of course it fits me well.  Don't walk a mile in my shoes, you could never do it.

The life I lead isn't for everyone.  And everyone doesn't understand what it is to be like me.  They don't understand what it's like to have finances like ours, how we get by, how we are able to do things like smoke pot (donations are a beautiful thing people and some places donate for shout outs, as well as some people are willing to do things like trade for things we own and don't want or time we have to give) or pay our bills (I have an extremely generous friend in another state that pays a lot of my bills and sends me money when I am flat broke because he is an amazing human being, not because there is anything in it for him) when I bitch about never making enough money.  The truth of it is, if you're not paying my bills, it's not your fucking business.  And this blog, and my social media are not my entire life, they are snippets into my life.  There is a lot more behind the scenes that no one but us and a very few selected people know about.  If you're one of those people, you know exactly who you are.  If you question if you're one of them, you're not.  It's that fucking simple.  I'm more private than I seem.  

It takes a strange kind of person to bare literally all for the world to see.  One that "has no shame" most would think.  That's not true.  A lot of people think that I would literally to anything at all for money.  The reality is simple, I won't or I wouldn't be broke, think about it.  I have hard limits.  There are a lot of limits to what I will do.  I have kind of a general rule about shoving things up my ass for instance.  I'm not into it, so I don't.  I've been camming for 10 years without ever once shoving anything up my ass.  Maybe that's why I'm broke.  Try explaining that to your kids at  Christmas, "sorry kids, you can't have a PS4 because mommy doesn't like things in her asshole".  Yeah, nope.  

Speaking of camming, I'm still waiting on approval to start the new site.  I'm fucking always waiting on someone else to make money.  And what do you want to bet they're not having an issue with their bills getting paid?  Because bitches like me don't matter to people like them, I'm just another piece of ass.  Aren't I always?

Until next time...

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Onward Hoe...

Just a friendly reminder for the butthurt babies sneaking in the back door (catch that..see what I did there? no? it was a pun, ya know, play on words with butthurt and back door...nevermind) that you are here by choice so anything you read here is because you picked to read it.  Any offense you take at my writing is because you're a twat that needs to get laid.

Moving on, I'm having issues with work.  Or rather, not with work but getting paid.  And work.  LOL I just have issues.  So...back in the middle of September I filmed a short clip, or the first half of it anyway, and due to either my phone being a piece of shit or the photographer and producer being flaky shitholes the second half never got filmed so here I sit, at the end of the month and I still haven't been paid for it or finished it.  Now...I don't live in a world where I can just say cool, I don't need to worry about that money, I'll just make some more because well, this is the person that was supposed to have been setting me up to film once a week or so but seems to keep flaking the fuck out.   Like for real, every time they say they're going to get me paid, or get something set up for me to get paid or me to film another clip, I just don't hear from them for a couple days and it's like they think I forgot or something.  It's not like I can forget I have people to feed and bills to pay ya know?  I don't know what world this person lives in but it's evidently not the kind where money is as hard to come by as it is in my world.

Why do people think I fucking work?  Because it's a sick thrill for me to show the world my naughty bits?  Nope, it's because I need the fucking money, why does everyone else work?  The thing is, I was handed this body that looks perfectly healthy but isn't.  So I can't seem to get disability no matter what I do short of hiring a lawyer that'll take most of the back pay in fees.  And what am I left with?  Not a body that can stand on it's feet or sit in a char for 8 hours.  I'm fucked lol.  So I do the job I'm qualified to do.  It's not glamorous, it's not cool, it doesn't make me feel cool, it doesn't make me feel great most of the time and frankly I'm goddamned tired of men thinking I'm stupid because of what I do. Or that all I'm here for is for them to use however they want, whenever they want and toss me aside when they're done.

So evidently, filming clips is getting me absolutely nowhere except not getting paid and getting my hopes up just to be made a fucking fool of over and over and still not be able to pay my bills.  So I signed up with a new cam company.  As soon as I get approved to cam with them, I will and I'll post about it and if it's different than is.  I can't imagine how it will be, all cam guys are the same.  Degrade you for a take home pay of maybe $3 an hour and maybe if you work 12 hours a day you can make $200 a week.  Yay.  It wasn't like it was an end all be all for work but filming clips should've gotten me enough money to achieve my eventual goal.  But fuck all if people don't fucking do what they say they're going to.  Or at least anyone involving these fucking clips lol.  it's driving me crazy.  And I was already fucked up.

I dunno, I just want enough.  I don't want to be rich, I don't want to have so much excess I don't know what to do with my money, I just want enough to not have to count pennies at the grocery store and not have to worry about my utilities getting cut off.

So until next time...

Monday, September 19, 2016

Yep, One More Post For The Cunty Twatlips That Have Moved On....

So...when you move on from something and no longer care you don't click into a link to see what you can see.  I get email all the time that I never check, never click the links, never check to see what the blog said because I truly don't care.  When you click this link to get here (which you'll have to do to see it) you make yourself a choice to be here.  You make yourself a choice to show that you've been because again, the internet is a truly mysterious gadget for some people, but when you have a monetized blog it records individualized clicks.  So when you come in from the same phone over and over again, blogger tells me.  Or when you're coming in from another android device.  Or ios.  When I get curious enough, I can check the IP addresses too.  And I can see if it's the same person reading the same post over and over (or um...showing everyone they can think of because they got mentioned by name and wowie how special are you that you got mentioned in my blog you special special person!!!) or if it's actually individual clicks.  There's a legit reason for it being set up that way but it's funny when someone says they're all moved on but they're clicking onto the same post like 30 times in a day.  Or when they have to edit a comment because they realized that they did indeed admit that they had been sent screen shots of my facebook.  Still, again, whatever but come the fuck on you stupid nasty fucking cunt.  And let's move on to your statement about how I never made you cry.  That's funny too.  I have text messages on my HUSBAND'S phone from you asking him to tell me to stop posting "terrible things about you and your daughter because if my intention was to hurt both of your feelings and make you cry I've succeeded".  And for your stalker crew...ok...if you're going to openly admit you have someone sending you screenshots of my social media that you're blocked from then exactly what would you call that?  That's stalking.  And gross.  And exactly what my post was about.  You know, the one you quoted.  As far as what you lied to my dad about?  Your intentions, but I'm quite sure with you it's pretty hard for you to tell what's true and what's not anymore considering how much you lie on the regular.  You can't even tell yourself the truth most of the time and you've been that way the entire time I've known you.  Even when I was watching the video of you collecting my foodstamps in 1997 you looked like you firmly believed that they were owed to you.  You're the worst form of hypocrite.  The kind that doesn't think there's anything wrong with what you do.  While you teach your children that's how to behave.  And your poor baby girl that I attacked so know the one that had to jump my shit and give me medical advice while she wasn't even done with LVN school?  She's fucking lucky I'm not a bigger bitch than I am and I didn't screen shot all that and send it to her school.  It'd have cost her her career.  You might want to teach her better since she's still in such utter need of mommy's protection.  Get real bitch.  Lucky for her I'm not Kaptain screen shotter like some folks huh?  But guess what I do have screen shots of?  Yeah...I'll leave you to wonder.  If you haven't thought about me, or worried about me or whatever, then why'd you even click to read it?  BECAUSE YOU'RE A LIAR. JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER WAS.  And your daughter is.  And if you want to see my mother (which is just another lie, because we all know what both of you have said about her for years, but I'm sure you'll say you had no contact with her because of me.  But you never had any problem texting or messaging me to ask me if you could buy some of my pills.  Or hers, now did ya?) if you really do want to see her...grow a fucking pair of goddamned balls and ask someone that knows.  How the fuck did you think MY DAD would know?  That's the dumbest thing yet.  But again I have to remember this is someone that doesn't know the difference between your and you're so I guess it's par for the course there.  Its just too bad you're a fucking moron.  It's also a damn shame children inherit their intelligence from their mother.  Your poor kids.


Monday, September 12, 2016


Yeah, I'm actually writing a post.  I know, I must have some time on my hands or something to complain about or something.  Well I have none of the first and a whole fucking lot of the second.  This is where I will do two things, first, remind you that you clicked to come here and made a choice to be here so if you're reading it and you get offended or butthurt because of something I'm saying it's your own fucking fault ya goddamed baby and second, it's my fucking blog if I want to use it to bitch the next person that accuses me of being attention seeking is going to get cunt kicked.  Yeah bitch that clicked just to see if it was about you....I do mean you and your puss baby and her cohorts that wanna talk shit.  Bring it the fuck on, I'm healthy now.  You know where I'm at, come the fuck on. Just make sure you bring it big twatsicle because I'll make sure all my shit's loaded and ready.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way yes, I have aggression issues.  Why you ask? Yeah, I know you didn't, neither did anyone else because frankly no one gives a flying fuck what upsets me I don't think.  As long as I play my part for the right people at the right time and play the game the right way.   I'm fucking tired of helping people and getting shit on.  I'm tired of people assuming they know what's going on when they don't.  I'm tired of people saying they are there for me when they really only want a fair trade.  Nothing is EVER no strings attached.  Nothing is ever given just because someone cares.  There is ALWAYS an expectation of reward.   And if I can't offer a big enough reward I'm not worth helping right then.  That's fine, I'm not worth that much to  I'm not worth that much to a lot of people, they keep right on proving that.

Wanna know something?  A few weeks ago I tried to off myself.  I lied and said I didn't but when I looked at the bottle of pills that I took it was really easy to take them.  It was so easy to swallow them all in a row, pill after pill after pill.  It wasn't until I got to the 15th or 20th one before I had second thoughts and by then I had taken what should have been a fatal dose.  Guess what happened.  No one cared.  NOTHING changed.  It didn't matter.  People don't treat things any differently.  They don't care if things get to be too much.  Or if I have a day that my psyche is fractured.  I AM NOT WHOLE.  I don't claim to be.  I am flawed, I'm fucked up.  Even the hospital didn't care.  They sent me home untreated to die.  Even though my husband had watched me take all those pills and what I took causes seizures and cardiac arrest in even healthy people and yes renee and kaeleigh you can look it up since you'll say I'm lying or it was just a cry for attention, it was Baclofen, 20mg pills.  Bet you bitches feel like it had any morsel of anything to do with you? Fuck you.  It didn't.  My pacemaker battery died.  You know, that one I don't need for my fictitious terminal illness I don't have (that runs in our family though that she has dna of so uh...duh fuckwit).  I have stressors.  Also I hear a big congrats are in order for finishing her LVN school...when does she her MD again??

So there's your post cunts.  Go cry because I called you names and tell the world how you'd beat my ass but I'm just not worth it. (or your lazy ass won't get up to do it)

Until next time...

Friday, May 27, 2016

Back To The Grind...

Maybe literally, depending on who or what I may be grinding on lol.  So I know it's been a really long time.  It's been busy, hectic, every adjective you can imagine to put in there for I can't handle all the shit life has thrown at me.  Obviously I sold the house and moved months ago.  Like almost half a year now.  And as much as I love my new place and am glad to be away from the poison that was my old dwelling, this house is no more affordable and is not being kept any cleaner.  That's what happens when you live in a world that no one thinks they have to work or clean up after themselves or their child/ren.

My granddaughter is over a year old now.  My baby is going to be five in just a few short weeks and my mother is still here.  Lingering like the shit demon she has become.  I would love to put her in a nursing home and people ask us ALL THE TIME why we haven't done that yet.  We are trying to.  Desperately.  But no one will take her.

We recently had a bout with what was basically just a run of the mill urinary tract infection.  It snowballed into such a bullshit party that we were told by the paramedics and fire department that the next time we call 911 it better be a fucking emergency or we're going to get fined and possible jail time for abuse of the emergency services system.  Let me backtrack for you and tell you the whole story.  This is added to the list of "sounds like she probably made this up" but I didn't because I'm tellin ya, if I had that good of an imagination I'd be writing novels, not blogging a few times a year (though I really want it to be once a day or so lol) and making JK Rowling money.

One morning we got up to my mother being her normal cranky self, but she says she's thrown up on herself.  We don't find vomit, but it looks like she's poured water on herself so my husband gives her a emesis basin and changes her shirt and starts getting her morning meds ready and going about his routine.  He hears her coughing and watches her literally work up some phlegm to spit on herself and she does, all the while making gagging noises and calls for him telling him she's thrown up again.  At this point I tell him that if she's puking on herself she needs to go to the dr because we are not equipped to deal with that kind of shit.  She hears me and goes about fake puking on herself and that ends up in call number one to 911.  Because that is what we were told to do by here primary care doctor.  Keep in mind we drive a mini van but it is not wheelchair equipped.

They have her in the ER for all of about 15 hours and most of that length of time is because she was refusing to give them a urine sample.  Diagnosis?  Urinary tract infection, home with antibiotics.  While in the ER she had been very demanding and told them they were required to give her IV morphine (they did not), something for anxiety (they did not), and they needed to admit her (they did not).  Because she did not get any of the things she wanted, she pulled her colostomy bag off and threw it at a nurse.

Twelve days later we get up and she's acting totally out of it.  Like she has no fucking clue who we are.  Tells me she never had a daughter, that she only had sons and that she has no idea who I am but I'm a pretty lady and will I get her a pain pill because she just hurts.  I should have known right then that it was what it was.  It was all about the high.  It has been my whole life.  Again, we called her doctor who says hang up and call 911 she may have had another stroke.  At no point does anyone say anything about a UTI causing confusion in elderly patients.  But I make a post on my Facebook about it and get told by my niece the nursing student that this is super common.  In elderly patients.  Keep in mind my mom is 64.  Not what is considered elderly. some point in the ER she had heard someone discussing elderly patients having confusion with UTI and she tucked that away in her head for later use.  This is a big deal why?  Because I'm being told that this is common, that I should have known this, and I'm being treated like a fucking idiot because I didn't.  Do people forget who this person is?  Do people forget this is the person who has been marked as a drug seeker for 20 years?  The same "mother" that had me working 2 jobs at 17 to make sure we had enough money for her habits AND the electricity?  Come the fuck on.  Not only was she faking the whole fucking "confusion" bullshit anyway, she's not even in the age bracket or severity of UTI to have had any "confusion" because of it.  And I really am at a point with some of it that I wish people would try to remember that if they don't live with the person, they don't know what's going on.

Moving on.  They did a CT scan and a MRI and turns out she hadn't had another stroke, she doesn't have Alzheimer's no organic brain disease, no dementia, no nothing.  But that second 911 call, they told us it was a reaction to the original antibiotic, prescribed another and sent her home in less than 2 hours.  Because she was fucking awful again.

Then comes call number three to 911.  This time they aren't very friendly.  And they don't want to take her but we insist.  The hospital doesn't want to take her, but they do and this time at our insistence they do finally do the CT scan and MRI that makes the discovery that she's just a big fat faker.  The kept her there for a couple days only because at that point we said fine....we give up, put her in a nursing home.  They said ok, but worst case scenario can you take her back home until we find one.  And by the way she'll be on IV antibiotics for 10 days.  I said ok not thinking that'd happen.  Of course it did.  Then they tell me she has MRSA too.  So home she comes on an IV with MRSA.  Or so we think.

Three days in she rips her IV port out and has to get rushed off to urgent care because the ER does not want her back and we have been told DO NOT CALL 911 unless someone is dying.  They test her for a UTI and MRSA and guess what folks?  SHE DOES NOT HAVE EITHER.  So that whole she's acting out of it because she has a UTI?  Totally fucking fake as shit because by the time she pulled that rabbit out of her hat her UTI was gone.  She waited too long to fake that one and have it pan out.  So it wasn't a UTI at all.

I'm never going to know if something really happens or if she's really sick because she fakes so much when she really is sick I'm going to just think she's faking something else.  Also, she threw a colostomy bag full of her own feces at me on Mother's Day.  So if anyone can top that for a shitty mother's day I'll be glad to hear it but I bet they can't.  Your own mother throwing shit at you on purpose just to be mean and spiteful on Mother's Day?  There's gotta be some kind of prize for that right?

Until next time...

Tuesday, December 8, 2015

If I Was Any More Freaked Out I'd Be Fabulous Freddy...

Fabulous Freddy and the Freak brothers taught me that cats get it on like people and everyone farts and sometimes it makes the sound "pruit".

I'm freaking the fuck out folks.  I sold the house.  The first buyer flaked right on out and tucked tale but all is well with that because two things...I had more offers waiting, and his wasn't the highest offer.  Why didn't I take the high one first you ask (except I know you didn't)?  Because that fucker was going to rent me my own house for a month so I didn't have to move in a hurry.

Now I have to move in a hurry.  Escrow was supposed to close tomorrow.  It's been uh...postponed.  Because I'm dumb and have no goddamned clue what in the sam hell I'm doing.  No really, I don't.  All while this is going on, my daughter's gallbladder almost exploded inside of her, someone took it upon themselves to call animal control who in turn called adult protective services and child protective services, and my car's brake lights stopped working.  Oh, and did I mention that the kitchen sink is backed up, the handle of one toilet broke and the seat of the other broke, my upstairs bathroom sink won't stop running and I'm sick with a virus I can't seem to kick?

Fuck me Freddy.

Until next time...

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Oh How The Mighty Have Fallen...

Yeah, the title is a little misleading I guess for the post. Especially to those waiting around for an honorable mention here.  Is that cryptic?  Maybe.  But it is what it is.

I'm selling my house.  A house I never thought I'd have to sell, the place that was my constant growing up, the place that contains most of my happy childhood memories, the place I could always call home when my parents couldn't keep the rent paid and we had to move houses....again.  This place that has turned into a poisonous vat of unhappiness that is my life now.  This place that would have ripped a family any less in love with each other than my own apart.  This place that now also harbors so much resentment for what should have been that I've begun to hate the very existense of its cloying stench.  Is this dramatic?  Sure, but what am I if not a dramatic attention seeking person that requires people to feel sorry for what I don't have?  Oh.....wait, that's another blog entirely, but I digress.

This house is mine to sell.  It was left to my mother and her brother, my uncle.  My uncle who also inherited every single penny of the life insurance money my mom thought she was going to get and didn't.  My uncle who had convinced my grandmother, while in the midst of her dementia, to cash in the biggest of several life insurance policies before she even died so he could have the cash to buy a house.  For his asshole of a wife that he was planning on leaving within months.  My uncle who promptly died in a horrific car accident exactly 84 days after my grandmother died.  Leaving my aunt with not only the money from the policies my grandmother held but also, my uncle's life insurance.  He worked at a hazardous job as a chemical engineer at a borax plant so it was a pretty penny.  A very very pretty penny.  More money that I will ever see in my life.  I suppose I should mention my aunt and I haven't gotten along much since she gave me a lecture on Godliness and the fact that my oldest son was born with a cleft lip and palate as my punishment by God and the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for living in sin with his father before we were married.  Ya know, that guy I've been married to for 20 years now and was married to before my son was concieved?  That very same guy that decided that even though I was pregnant WITH SOMEONE ELSE'S CHILD when we got together that he still wanted to be with me so he was there for the birth of my daughter and has raised her as his own her entire life?  That's the one.  My son has what was deemed to be a combination of genetic and environmental birth defect because we "lived in sin".  That's right people, if you live with someone out of wedlock, evidently you are blessed with a briliant child that may happen to have a special need or two.  If that's my "punishment" I'll take that any day over her crusty, dried up, and probably frigid vagina that was never able to have her own biological children.  I don't think I'm the one being punished there, but I'm a big old fat fucking Pagan, so what do I know anyway?

So moving right along, because chances are good I could complain about her all damn day long but I don't want to sour my mood, and since I'm up at an unheard of hour blogging, I mean, I COULD be in a good mood today, you just never know.  So, the house really is legally mine to sell.  There was never any debate about that, but the way the paperwork looks, it does look fishy if you didn't know the situation in detail.  I happen to have the details lined out in a big old binder that was fortunately kept in the same place all these years.  But the one piece of it I was missing was the death certificate for my uncle.  And I had to get one.  Which meant calling my aunt.  So what did I do?  I had Ronnie do it.  Because I am a chicken shit and I can't stand her.  So it was a game of phone tag for a couple of calls and then he just got brave and left a message that said pretty much that he was sorry to be caling for that reason, but we needed a copy of the death certificate.  But he didn't say why because he ran out of time on her voice mail.  About 20 minutes later she calls back and I didn't get the phone in time.  It really does happen, so don't get all "yeah right you did, you were ducking her call" because I really did miss the call.  The message she left was at best rude, and at worst, meant to make us feel like utter shit for daring to call and ask such a thing, like this was the most awful thing we could do.  "I can't imagine why you could possibly need a copy of his death certificate, that's just such an awful and morbid thing to ask for!  I can't believe you'd ask for that in a phone message, but I GUESS you MUST have some unknown reason for it. But I can't imagine what it would be or why YOU could possibly need it."  But lo and behold about 10 minutes after the message, the doorbell rings and who should it be but her, holding a color copy of the front of his death certificate.  Because we don't rate and actual stamped and seal version.  My 19 year old son (the punishment child) panicked and told her we had stepped out so I didn't have to talk to her (OMG thank you son!!) and took the paper and she left.  

I showed it to my husband, who had been giving the four year old hellion a bath and he immediately called her to tell her why we needed it and to thank her.  He simply told her that we needed to get the trust paperwork in order because frankly, it's not her businsess.  She doesn't want anything to do with the house and none of the profits would be hers anyway, so I am not legally obligated to tell her jack shit.  Why didn't I just go to the registrar recorder and buy my own?  Because I'm broke as a joke.  Not a funny one either and I'll give you a side note that I'm sure will give a few people a giggle and make their day.  So to them, I say, you're welcome for the information, because I know you crave the dirt on us to have something to sit around and gossip about.  Anyway, I literally don't even have the $30 to go buy one until payday and I didn't want to wait.  So I didn't.  I swallowed what little pride I might have left and asked her.  While Ronnie was talking to her, he mentioned my mom had a stroke, something she had not known, because she doesn't care and we never talk to her.  And her comparison to my mom having a stroke and being bedridden is that she spent so much of the life insurance money already that she had to get a job, poor little gal, and she had to have some kind of surgery that requires  physical therapy ALL WHILE HOLDING DOWN A JOB!!!  Because I think she might be the first person to ever do that.  Like, ever.  Because I know I sure as hell never had surgery on Saturday at a surgery center only to have to return to work on Monday because I was out of sick days and vacation days and had bils to pay and kids to feed, and no savings to rely on.   And mine was *gasp* even a full time job as compared to her part time job.  I mean, I know mine was just a laproscopic procedure on my abdomen and cutting out a fibroid and an ovarian cyst the size of a small grapefruit which fucking ruptured during the procedure, compared to her damn shoulder but hers is probably the most painful shoulder injury one could possibly sustain.  I'll ask my husband while he's lifing my 160 pound mom out of her bed to her bedside commode or her wheelchair with not one but two torn rotator cuffs (the part in the shoulder joint that holds the socket together, it's the soft tissue if I understand correcty).  But she's expecting a big congratulations for working like a normal person.  

I WOULD WORK IF I WAS NOT SICK. I AM IN NO WAY FAKING OR EXAGGERATING MY SYMPTOMS. I AM VERY SORRY TO THOSE PEOPLE THAT BELIEVE I AM AND I DO. BUT THE TRUTH IS I SPEND MORE ENERGY DOWNPLAYING AND HIDING SYMPTOMS THAN I DO ANYTHING ELSE BECAUSE ALL I'VE EVER WANTED IN LIFE IS FOR PEOPLE TO LIKE ME AND ADMIRE ME FOR MY TALENTS AND PEOPLE DON'T LIKE SICK PEOPLE OR ADMIRE THEM FOR ANYTHING OTHER THAN BEING SICK AND LIVING THROUGH IT.  I do not want to be admired for being sick, I want to be admired for other things, most of which I'm too embarrassed to put in here and I know for sure that there are people that read this that woud use it to their advantage and just make me feel bad about it.  So I'll just keep it to myself. So there.  

So my poor little rich girl auntie poo pie has to work because she doesn't have a husband to pay her to keep house or to raise their bought babies (because my alcoholic uncle had some dark seedy thing in his past and they could not adopt through an agency, my grandparents, his parents and her parents who have more money than sense, bought them not one but two babies to raise).  Poor thing has to take care of herself and while I'm sitting over here broke as fuck, my family has been blessed with babies and a grandchild that she doesn't even know about because she forgot we existed the day her husband died, and she is telling my husband how disappointed she is in us that she hasn't heard from us until now and then it's over this.  Well, guess what?  No one hears from me sometimes, even the people I love the most.

Speaking of which, that side note, it's one of my all time lows in life.  I really wish people would understand how expensive my utilities are.  I fucking hate having to hear people complain about their little $200 electric bills and how terrible it is to have to pay them.  I would love to see them pay mine.  I'd love to see several people try to live on what we make while they bitch about how broke they are.  They'd miss some of their finer things in life really fucking quick let me tell ya, but the fact is, I highly doubt these people could live on our budget.  Especially while paying for all four of my own kids and my grandchild.  People here don't go without what they need either.  Maybe they don't always get what they want, but that's true for even the most affluent of kids.  Anyway, back to my fucking electric bill.  It is huge.  The smallest it gets all year is about $300.  Everything in this house except the heat and the hot water heater is electric.  In the summer, it's upwards of $700 in the months we have to run the air conditioner 24/7.  I'd like to open a window and have it be livable but when the low temperature is 88 degrees, I can't do it.  I have a physical limitation when it comes to heat.  It can kind of kill me.  Which is how I got in the situation I got in.  I actually have a medical allowance for my electric so they can't disconnect my services until after I reach a certain total.  Our totay is $1,500 so in the summer, it's easy to get to that limit. But the thing is, when you only make $1,800 a month for all of these people, not to mention all these pets, you run out of money a whole lot faster than you run out of bills to pay.  And my mom prioritizes the cable above the other utilities.  The cable includes our phone and internet also, but we still have more cable than we should.  But my mom pays for it out of her social security and all she does all day is lie in bed watching television so I can justify that expense for her while she pays it.  When she doesn't pay it, it will not be here.  When it was just us, it was internet with phone and we watched Netflix and Hulu and we were happy with that.  So we ran up a giant bill.  I'm talking close to 5k.  And I know what you're thinking, that's impossibe, but I assure you it is not.  When your bill averages over $500 a month and you can only ever afford to pay $200-$300 a month, your balance starts to add up.  And up and up and up.  Until you have a leftover balance of thousands of dollars.  And then a very very nasty woman from the corporate office calls you on a Thursday and gives you until Monday at 5 to get $1,800 paid or they will turn it off. One thousand eight hundred dollars.  That is quite literally more money than we make in a month.  I know I said $1.800 before but I lied, we're many dollars short of that number every month.  Then you take out taxes and union dues and you end up with quite a bit less than you started with.  Everyone asks why I don't get social security.  Because I've been denied 3 times.  Two terminal diagnosis for my heart and all MY doctors say I can't work.  That between my heart and my back it will kill me, but the social security doctors say different.  And there are other ramifications of me going on social security that I can't expain here, but they exist. It makes the benefits not outweigh the negatives at this point.  So I'm rambling, it's my blog, sue me.  LOL Anyway, they gave me a weekend to get the money.  An amount I have no way of coming up with myself, and i lost my shit understandaby.  I had $200 in the bank and a water bill left to pay and formula and diapers left to buy for my granddaughter, Mavyn.  Why isn't she breastfed and in cloth you ask?  Because her mom had a horrible recovery from her c section which split open the day she came home, Mavyn has a shallow palate and had a hard time latching, and my daughter was starting to suffer emotionally from pumping exclusively for her, also, all the cloth diaper friendy laundry detergent I could afford gave that baby a rash.  Not that it's anyone's fucking business why I need to spend that money there but since people love to say I just waste all my money on stupid shit and that's why I'm always broke, I figured I'd explain it.

So I had to "borrow" a huge sum of money.  I say it that way because at this point, he's "lent" me probably about as much money as we make in a year over the course of the 8 years I have known him.  I am a pathetic person, I know.  I hear through the grapevine I'm not the only one that thinks that.  This part of this story only gets more pathetic though.  He had the hardest time sending me that amount, first he tried to wire it through western union.  He paid a HUGE fee to do so, we waited, I tried to confirm it before we went to get it so we knew for sure it was available.  I couldn't get it to show up so I  called them, and in turn, they told me to have the sender call them to release it. He did, only to be essentially humiliated by them with a series of invasive questions about how we know each other and for how long.  They then proceeded to explain to him  that they would not put the wire through because they believe me to be commiting fraud.  I have never gotten a western union wire from anyone else in more than 20 years.  And my husband, who the wire was actually made out to because I do not have valid ID has not gotten any.  Ever.  From anyone but him.  Ever.  But they were HAPPY to take his money at the counter, charge him the fee and hold his money for a while because every minute they have it, they collect interest on it.  Then he got to wait until they put it back.  All the while, I am freaking the fuck out about the damn bill and feeling like the worst person in the world for having to ask him for anything let alone that much. But yet again, he saves my ass, he saves my family again.  Like the time he got my gas turned back on, or the time he got my electric turned back on after I woke up to it off (these were both when my mom was being super helpful and making payment arrangements and not telling anyone OR paying them).  So he saves my ass frequently.  What is that relationship you ask?  That is truly none of anyone's business but his and mine.  I will state that I love him very much but like I said, past that, it's none of anyone's business and my husband not only knows about our relationship but fully condones it.  He is my hero in more ways than one.  And then I'm gonna quote Forrest Gump and say that's all I have to say about that.

So that was a long damn blog and it took me several hours to fully write it because I started in the wee morning hours, dealt with a ton of interruptions, got a kid ready for school, drank 3 cups of coffee and watched several episodes of Archer on Netflix.  Or rather listened to them while typing.  So I'm going to go try to rest a bit before I start the stress iof scanning documents for financing my new home.  Because I have no clue where we are going yet.  I will say that my famiy is dead set on a really beautiful 5 bedroom mobile home that we actually can afford that's been on the market for more than 60 days.  Our agent has soken with several mobile home sellers that have told him that absolutely with a 30% down payment our credit won't be an issue.  And it's not that we have bad credit per se, just a low score because we don't buy things on credit.  If we don't have the cash for it, we do not buy it.  Because when you live above your means you get used to the finer things in life and when you abruptly lose them, you are at a loss and think your life is awful and you act like a douche about it.  Trust me.  I know this from being the one that loses and being the one that gets tossed aside like yesterday's garbage because I'm no longer the person they can make fun of to make themselves feel better about how great their life is.  But yeah, I'm not bitter about that at all. So that's my story for today and I am realy leaving now.

Until next time...