It just isn't fair.  I put up with him, lived in a crappy fucking cabin in the middle of nowhere, cleaned up after him, told his big, dumb ass that he wasn't a big dumb ass and when it is all said and done and makes out like I am the one who fucked it up.  He was a perfect gentlemen, he "took care of me", he did everything he could to make it work but I just wouldn't pull my weight.  Now I am not saying that I was perfect because I wasn't.  It was defenitely over when it was over but I don't get even a little credit for all the years that I put up with and went without for him.  I went to school full time, worked full time, cleaned up after him, helped him get through his son joining the navy.  Mother Fucker!!!  It just isn't fair.  I just want one word that says I am not the only one to blame.  Why does the man always walk away and be fine.  Now granted I know this can go the other way but this is my fucking story and I am feeling sorry for myself so deal with it or quit reading.  We had plans, we were going to build a house, travel, grow old together.  But my kid wasn't "manly" enough.  He had no interest in building shit or tearing shit apart.  He wanted me to choose between him and my kid.  Well, duh!!!!!!!!!!  If my son never has to lay a nail to feed his family, fuck yes!!!!!!  It never did a whole hell of a lot for you.  We never knew if we would have enough to pay the bills or eat because the only thing you know how to do is manual labor and you don't follow direction well, drink a half gallon a night, get up around 9.  Not very condusive a steady paying job.  Fuck You!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I am better off without you but I am fucking pissed that you aren't suffering.  Why do you get to walk the fuck away and be okay.  Like your whole fucking life, broken works for you and there is always another dumb woman (just like me) ready to take care of you.  Well I hope you live a LONG lonely life.  I hope that someday when you are looking over how you got where you are you remember how good I was to you and choke on it.  Now I know I am feeling sorry for myself and don't write me any nasty man hater comments.  I just needed to vent and nobody reads my blogs anyway so just leave me the fuck alone and I will get over it soon enough.  I feel better already

I just spent the last four days in the hospital.  Like staying, or should I say paying for, the Hilton.  With less care, worse(and in my case NO) food, and the mattress from hell.  I am now sitting in my comfortable room, next to my faithful pooch, jammen' to Stevie Ray Vaughn - Rood Mood.  There is no place like home.  I am in the medical prof. myself and some of the things those nurses do without gloves on freaks me out.  I also had the great displeasure of being lectured by the Social Worker because I choose to be a "No Code".  She told me it was a selfish decision at my age.  So I had to point out that they don't have me hooked up to any machines that would tell them the instant my heart stopped and that they don't check on me unless I ring for them or at shift change (which is every 12 hours at this particular hospital) and that I do not want to be brought around after 15 minutes of clinical death to burdon my family with my drooling ass.  She didn't appreciate my terminology but I didn't like her. period. so I guess we were even.  Anyway, I am glad to be back with the living and at home.  Sign your advanced directives before you go into a place like that or you will be visited by the Social Bitch.  Every hospital has one.

I am the oldest of three girls.  We were raised by an amazing little woman, who when left by her fairly unamazing husband, pulled up her boot straps and went to work.  Literally and figuratively.  She raised us the best she knew how with what she had, which wasn't much.  My dad washed his hands of us.  (After all he had a new family to raise).  She had no real skills, other then being a house wife and mother.  She had no house, no job, no money.  She lost all of that in the divorce.  But she just plowed on... rented a house, got a job, and earned her own money.  I was eleven and already shaping up to be a real pain in the ass, K was five or six, a strange and wonderful little care giver, even at that age.  Her biggest goal in life was to please, and please she did.  Then there was B.  Five months old and already thrown into an amazon nation.  No choice, just the hand she was dealt.  No boys aloud, thank you very much.  We are all grown up now... holy shit, how did that manage to happen.  I, by far, have been the wild child.  Sex, drugs and rock and roll.  Dating bikers and bad men, drunks and losers, trying to raise the son that I had by myself through all of my bad choices, and in my thirties finally finding myself, who I was really meant to be and settling down.  Whew, I made it, my kid made it (so far) and things are ok.  Miss K... she had her own cross to carry.  She is so fucking smart, the only one of us that went to real college.  She had a long and bumpy road, of which I will give no details (she would fly from NJ and kill me if I did).  She found a man, a good man, and had her wedding this summer.  A beautiful affair.  I hate weddings, don't even believe in the whole sanctity[sic] of marriage, but her wedding was truly inspirational.  No fights broke out in the foyer, my mom, dad, and step mother danced. together. no lightnening, the floor didn't crack open and swallow anybody.  My other sister and I cried through most of the day because we could see that K had finally made it and she was going to be ok.  So that is two down and one to go.  The most special of the three, the most beautiful of three, my little sister B.  That girl has the heart of an angel.  Because of this she is surrounded by people with their hand out waiting for their share of her generousity[sic].  Most of her life, with a few exceptions, people have taken from her, with no intention to returning the favor.  I watched her grow up, go through high shcool with all these flat chested little twits, giving of herself and helping these little dimwits not kill themselves over a boy or a few extra pounds they couldn't manage to puke off.  She is almost 6'0, nice rack, beautiful hair, 100 watt smile and she somehow was convince by these bitches that she wasn't as fantastic as they were, somehow, because she wasn't a fidget, just like them.  She never really dated, she was everybodies friend, confidant, ride, etc., etc......now she is an adult, working, living, doing.  She has dreams and aspirations.  She still has that heart, she still gives of herself-usually getting nothing in return... but the stakes are bigger now and the hurts mean just a little bit more.  I want to wrap my arms around and her and protect her from the world, go kick a little ass.  That is how I used to help her in the past, just knock a few heads together or scare the shit out of em with a well placed glare.  Unfortunately that will not help the situations of today.  To make matters worse when one of us hurts my mom hurts.  So now I have two of the very few people I give a shit about torn apart.  My little sis has finally found some hapiness in another person.  Someone who supports her and cares about her the way she deserves to be cared about and all those fuckers with their hands out are crazy with jealousy because they are not getting their pound of flesh in a timely manner.  Well I guess the point of this long winded rant is this.  I am placing one of those "well placed glares" on all of you.  Leave my little sister alone and let her live her life, make her own mistakes, memories and happiness.  B, no matter what, I love you.  Mom and K love you, and I think J loves you (and I don't mean Jesus, although I am sure he loves you)- so fuck um all.  You are BEAUTIFUL, TALENTED, WORTHY and although a little dingy at times SMART.   Go rent Stewart Smally saves the world and get some confidence back.  I love you