As previously reported here, Stanley has informed me he wants to sell the house. I have no intention of selling the house but I am humoring him just to avoid a fight. The funny thing about this is that Stanley, deep inside his lazy beer monkey heart, expects me to do it all, so he won’t break a sweat getting the house ready to put on the market, having it appraised, listing it, nada, so if I don’t do it, it won’t get done. Since I don’t intend to be helpful in this process, I imagine that this can take ages.
I have made the decision and I’m not doing it.
I’m not going to be helpful.
If he does manage to get a sign in the yard, I am going to leave this on the countertop.
My intent is to buy him out as soon as I can swing it, hopefully in a year.
So, for the next year, this will be me.
I was on for the weekend and worked and played with the kids. His birthday was Sunday, so on Sunday morning we went out and got him a card, a small gift, and then made him cupcakes for when he came in for nest duty at 5. Really I didn’t do it for him, I did it for the kids. On Mother’s Day, Stanley was his usual total bucket of fail and didn’t help the kids do anything for me. They felt terrible that they didn’t have cards or gifts. I felt terrible that their dad is such a lousy fuck that he didn’t even bother to help them so they didn’t feel bad. I was trying to spare the kids that so went out of my way.
We made Smores cupcakes.
And by we, I mean ME and a kid in the kitchen blocking the countertop and the oven with a scooter.
They were fiddly as shit. There were 4 steps. 4!
I bought the ingredients, did the scooter kitchen dance for 4 steps, then cleaned the shit up.
Later he posted this on FB.
Kids made me cupcakes for my birthday. Thanks guys! Loved the candles especially!
Yep, they did it all. Little darlings.
Then to rub salt in the wound, he left me his dinner dishes from his birthday dinner, just a little present, that I found when I came in to check on the kids on Monday morning. Oh yes, he did.
What a sweetie.
Monday afternoon, I took Merlot to her Ortho appointment, pulled back in the garage, and couldn’t help but notice that their was a river running from the storage room in the garage. Actually that room is his beer room. It has a Kegerator, a Fermentation chamber, and the oldest refrigerator I’ve ever seen in my life. The inside has Kegs in it and there are holes cut in the sides where taps come out. Oh, yes, plus it has a leak. A black, smelly leak. He never cleans up anything, and I’m not touching it, so…
Pretty much I have decided I am waaaay too nice to that wanker. I’m not going to make one thing easy on him from here on out. I’m going to ignore him when he says he is going to sell the house and keep a list everytime a new varmit is spotted in the garage at our new beer lick. The kids and I can keep track of the number of species.
So, go ahead Stanley, say it. Make my day.
Meanwhile, 915 miles away from here, the second biggest Pansy in the Universe is also trying to set a limit. Al has called his ex every name in the book over the past few days. Mean Pig, Fire Crotch (a personal favorite of mine), Mindless Twat, Dingaling, and well, they get meaner from there. Their house is under contract, not a great deal, but she insisted they take it. She will walk away with money, he will not. Yet, she STILL is calling him for money. Today she called him from a car dealership and asked for 4K for her a second car because she is having to share with their son who is home from college. It will not be his car, it will be a second car for her. She even had the nerve to say to this man, a man who gave up his car last year due to vision issues,
“I cannot live my life the way I want to when I have to share a car.”
(just a tiny one)
He told her no. Then she said he was being unreasonable and hostile. He told her no again. Then she said that he wasn’t telling her no, he was actually saying no to his son. Because you know, a heavy dose of guilt works sometimes. But not today, he told her fuck no. He said that he intends to always say no from this point forward. To be honest he has had sleepless nights over money recently and she has a lot of damn nerve. So.. from now on
We made a pact that we will not make their lives easier for one more minute. because they certainly don’t try to make ours easier. They take care of themselves first always. As a matter of fact, neither of them really even put the kids first, it’s wanker first, kids second. But it has finally occurred to us that everything we do for them (not the kids) but them, comes out of our hide. We put off our happiness because these wankers demand so much of our energy and resources.
(I paid the $830 for the roof repair last week because Stanley was ranting about selling the house. I’m such a pansy I paid the bill to get him to shut up and drop it.)
The race is on to see who will revert back to pansy behavior first. At this moment, I wouldn’t spit on Stanley if his tail was on fire. Just sayin.