Sunday, August 14, 2011
Astonishment. Incredulity. Disbelief!
Did soaking the toe in a bucket of warm water and Epsom salts magically fix it..?
No. It did not. Soak number 1456 was no different to soak number 1455. The toe nail is still long enough to interest the Guinness Book of Records (I suspect it is not that far from starting to curl around his foot) and to top it all off, it still has that creepy black stuff painted on it, giving it that vampire/serial killer look.
I can’t even be bothered to say “told you so”, because the Moodle I live with sure as hell would be far too cowardly to actually give her a piece of his mind. Having said that, I suspect it would be a piece of ‘my mind’. He is so brainwashed, it’s as if he is sitting on her knee with her hand up his ass [yes, deliberate spelling... Ass just sounds better than 'arse'], moving his mouth. Her words just pour on out. It’s like Stockholm syndrome.
So the Squeeze and his vampire footed kid left at about lunch time to do a movie, go visit kid 2 and after that, do the 1+ hour drive to drop him back to the gingerbread house (where there is no penicillin or technology!) but I suspect there is a wicked witch…
He has got a couple of things that he could enquire about while in velvet land. Off the top of my head there would be: ‘did you sign the acceptance of service for the divorce and post it back to the lawyer..?’ Or ‘where is my tent?’ Or even ‘I’m taking the dog statue I got for my 50th’ and then there is ‘How about you get your ass out of bed earlier and get the kid to school on time?’
Of course, the reality is that he won’t mention any of those things. Hell, he won’t mention anything at all. If there is any conversation, it will be her talking at him. ‘Pay the 25 yo’s doctors’ bills!’ ‘Pay the 23 yo’s driving fines!’ ‘Pay old school fees!’ ‘You’re a crap father!’
Then again, maybe she’ll just strut out to weed infested porch in a pin striped suit (like a good lesbian) and in true, Paul Keating fashion, say ‘evening scumbag!’ (I remain astounded that she used scumbag. Worse, in a text message so it is documented forever just how unhip she is.)
Although I like the peace and quiet, I’m getting a little fed up with being the sole cleaner around here and have to say the chore would be easier if people would pick up after themselves!
I may have to adopt an old ‘lesson’ that my dad gave me years ago…
Posted by Mistress at 6:36 PM