Fasten your seatbelts boys and girls
May. 4th, 2007 04:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dr_trannyIt's real update time. No silly macros. No annoying intarwebs memes. A real, genuine, honest-to-God check on my life.
And it sucks.
Come, hop in the wayback machine with me as we travel back to three weeks ago tomorrow. On that day, we ventured out to a friend's house for a birthday party. There was much eating, and much drinking, particularly of tequila. As the evening progressed, so did the level of intoxication, to the point where my car keys were confiscated. Somewhere around 10 or 11 pm I was told that my wife was all but passed out in a chair out on the deck, so I went outside to try to help her into the house, and into a bed. Instead of allowing me to do so, she keeps telling me to go away, and she wants to talk to the friend whose house it is. Insisting, in fact. Nevermind the fact that she was currently downstairs attending to her own equally blasted wife. Eventually somebody went and got her, and she convinced my wife to go in the house, and helped her into a bed to sleep it off. Evidently they had quite the conversation, but I didn't learn about this until sometime the next afternoon/evening, so we'll come back to that. I was rather pissed that I was told to go away in favor of someone else, so I proceeded to guzzle down somewhere around 8 or 9 beers in a couple of hours, and eventually passed out on the couch.
The next morning I woke up, and my wife and the previously mentioned friend were in the dining room talking about something, I have no idea what. I dragged myself off the couch, took a leak, and we left to head home and sleep some more in our own bed. I started to feel pukey about a quarter of the way home, and I almost made it to my own house before I spewed. Literally. I puked in the street in front of the neighbor's house. Needless to say, I went straight to bed after that. The wife decided to stay up, and said she was going to run some errands and would check in on me.
When I woke up again, around 3, I texted my wife asking for a glass of water. Imagine my surprise when the same previously mentioned friend was the one to deliver the water. 3 HOURS later, said friend leaves, and my wife comes upstairs. She has that "bad news" look on her face, so I ask what's up. This is the part where we come back to the conversation I mentioned earlier. Evidently in the middle of her drunken ramblings, my wife told said friend to leave her wife for her. Yeah, okay, she was fucked up. BUT, in the sober light of the next fucking day, SHE SAID SHE FUCKING MEANT IT. And, of course, the "friend" has apparently been after my wife for "a while," however long that fucking means.
So, now my wife has been spending the last 3 weeks pursuing a relationship with this cuntstain. Of course, she keeps claiming that she isn't, and that she wants to be my friend. In the meantime, my unemployed ass is stuck in the same house. And, since we've had some chick from church staying here until she could find her own place, stuck in the same room/bed. She keeps telling me how she loves me with all her heart, but she isn't in love with me (and apparently hasn't been for roughly half our relationship). She keeps talking like we're still a fucking couple, talking about all these trips we're going to take and all these things we're supposed to do together. And then she turns around and spends all her free time and attention on this bitch. I ask her straightforward questions, and I get bullshit answers, and never the same answer twice.
I'm being lied to on a daily (if not hourly) basis.
I'm hurt.
I'm angry.
No, strike that. I'm furious.
No, still not good enough.
I'M FUCKING LIVID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And, to add diarrhea icing to the shit cake, her mother decided that she had to take a trip with her daughter. So, since mommy dearest is the single most fiscally irresponsible person in the history of history and has no fucking money, they piled into another friend's RV and headed off to a campground for a few days. A few days that quickly (as in within a couple of hours) changed into 2 weeks. But guess what? I call her to ask what she wants done with a broken showerhead, only to learn that her new fucking girlfriend is out there, and mom is probably going fucking home. That's right, boys and girls, now she's off camping with the whore. Oh, and this is the best part. While I'm telling the adulteress off, her fucking mother takes the phone and tells me not to talk to her anymore today, and that she won't let her answer her own motherfucking cell phone. Miserable fucking retarded old snatch!
So, needless to say, I've not been in the best mood lately. In the last 3 weeks I've probably eaten less than I normally would in 2 or 3 days. The upshot to that is I've lost somewhere around 10 pounds, but I know it's not healthy. I haven't been drinking myself into oblivion though, so that's at least something. Of course, I haven't hardly left the bedroom, let alone the house, in the last 3 weeks either.
I keep going between fits of unadulterated rage that make me want to smash everything in sight, and bawling so hard it feels like I just got kicked in the solar plexus by a Clydesdale. I keep hoping/praying that when I go to sleep I won't wake up.
That's it. I'm done for now. I'm going to go play some nice violent FPS games now, and put certain faces on all my opponents.
And it sucks.
Come, hop in the wayback machine with me as we travel back to three weeks ago tomorrow. On that day, we ventured out to a friend's house for a birthday party. There was much eating, and much drinking, particularly of tequila. As the evening progressed, so did the level of intoxication, to the point where my car keys were confiscated. Somewhere around 10 or 11 pm I was told that my wife was all but passed out in a chair out on the deck, so I went outside to try to help her into the house, and into a bed. Instead of allowing me to do so, she keeps telling me to go away, and she wants to talk to the friend whose house it is. Insisting, in fact. Nevermind the fact that she was currently downstairs attending to her own equally blasted wife. Eventually somebody went and got her, and she convinced my wife to go in the house, and helped her into a bed to sleep it off. Evidently they had quite the conversation, but I didn't learn about this until sometime the next afternoon/evening, so we'll come back to that. I was rather pissed that I was told to go away in favor of someone else, so I proceeded to guzzle down somewhere around 8 or 9 beers in a couple of hours, and eventually passed out on the couch.
The next morning I woke up, and my wife and the previously mentioned friend were in the dining room talking about something, I have no idea what. I dragged myself off the couch, took a leak, and we left to head home and sleep some more in our own bed. I started to feel pukey about a quarter of the way home, and I almost made it to my own house before I spewed. Literally. I puked in the street in front of the neighbor's house. Needless to say, I went straight to bed after that. The wife decided to stay up, and said she was going to run some errands and would check in on me.
When I woke up again, around 3, I texted my wife asking for a glass of water. Imagine my surprise when the same previously mentioned friend was the one to deliver the water. 3 HOURS later, said friend leaves, and my wife comes upstairs. She has that "bad news" look on her face, so I ask what's up. This is the part where we come back to the conversation I mentioned earlier. Evidently in the middle of her drunken ramblings, my wife told said friend to leave her wife for her. Yeah, okay, she was fucked up. BUT, in the sober light of the next fucking day, SHE SAID SHE FUCKING MEANT IT. And, of course, the "friend" has apparently been after my wife for "a while," however long that fucking means.
So, now my wife has been spending the last 3 weeks pursuing a relationship with this cuntstain. Of course, she keeps claiming that she isn't, and that she wants to be my friend. In the meantime, my unemployed ass is stuck in the same house. And, since we've had some chick from church staying here until she could find her own place, stuck in the same room/bed. She keeps telling me how she loves me with all her heart, but she isn't in love with me (and apparently hasn't been for roughly half our relationship). She keeps talking like we're still a fucking couple, talking about all these trips we're going to take and all these things we're supposed to do together. And then she turns around and spends all her free time and attention on this bitch. I ask her straightforward questions, and I get bullshit answers, and never the same answer twice.
I'm being lied to on a daily (if not hourly) basis.
I'm hurt.
I'm angry.
No, strike that. I'm furious.
No, still not good enough.
I'M FUCKING LIVID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And, to add diarrhea icing to the shit cake, her mother decided that she had to take a trip with her daughter. So, since mommy dearest is the single most fiscally irresponsible person in the history of history and has no fucking money, they piled into another friend's RV and headed off to a campground for a few days. A few days that quickly (as in within a couple of hours) changed into 2 weeks. But guess what? I call her to ask what she wants done with a broken showerhead, only to learn that her new fucking girlfriend is out there, and mom is probably going fucking home. That's right, boys and girls, now she's off camping with the whore. Oh, and this is the best part. While I'm telling the adulteress off, her fucking mother takes the phone and tells me not to talk to her anymore today, and that she won't let her answer her own motherfucking cell phone. Miserable fucking retarded old snatch!
So, needless to say, I've not been in the best mood lately. In the last 3 weeks I've probably eaten less than I normally would in 2 or 3 days. The upshot to that is I've lost somewhere around 10 pounds, but I know it's not healthy. I haven't been drinking myself into oblivion though, so that's at least something. Of course, I haven't hardly left the bedroom, let alone the house, in the last 3 weeks either.
I keep going between fits of unadulterated rage that make me want to smash everything in sight, and bawling so hard it feels like I just got kicked in the solar plexus by a Clydesdale. I keep hoping/praying that when I go to sleep I won't wake up.
That's it. I'm done for now. I'm going to go play some nice violent FPS games now, and put certain faces on all my opponents.
