Not Impressed

There are certain people in this world that you just don't want to imagine them coming in last in their class.

Like, your brain surgeon.

or perhaps, your lawyer.

Since my lawyer gave his lawyer all the paperwork and said "just fix the typos and submit it to the courts" and he did, I received a cc'd letter from my lawyer to his lawyer telling him there were still minor errors that needed to be corrected. Nothing earth shattering, nothing that changes any legalese in the document, just a couple of formatting issues basically.

The thing is, it was already submitted to the court.

And as I reread her letter this morning, I noted that in paragraph two? There is a typo.

Is it possible to have two lawyers that have graduated last in their class at lawyering school on the same case?

Jesus Will Forgive You, It's His Job

I received the letters yesterday from ding dong's lawyer along with my lawyer's response and those two documents, viewed side by side, actually had me giggling at the absurdity and the complete power imbalance exuding from the two documents.

Previous letters from ding dong's lawyer seemed to emit a testosterone soaked "fuck you" behind every sentence. Perhaps it was just my frame of mind when I read it. Perhaps it was my fear and insecurity. Perhaps there really was a testosterone soaked "fuck you" hidden in there like a magic eye puzzle. Whatever it was, I would read it and shake and spiral and cry.

Well, I do believe things have changed a bit. The letter couldn't have been more whipped if it had been written without any capitalization and had included a frowny faced emoticon at the end.

I could actually sense the frame of mind of the poor legal secretary that had to put that little gem together. I could hear her tsk-tsk-ing and I knew she was thinking "Jesus Christ man, what are you smoking, crack?"

My lawyers response was BEAUTIFUL! I am going to state it here and now that of the 90 billion times I have bitched about lawyers on this blog, this one letter might just redeem 80 billion of those complaints. I may even frame it one day.

She started every paragraph, nearly every sentence, with "Ms. Harkness expects" and "Ms. Harkness feels" and as I had given her my expectations that he would never track us down in the future, she framed those expectations around getting a restraining order to keep him away, if necessary.

She then stated that he has had the signed divorce documents for over a month and has failed to submit them to the court house and he had better GET HIS ASS IN GEAR.

Well, she didn't use the word ass, but it was verrrrry close.

So, I suppose he'll either submit the paperwork or else we'll have to threaten them AGAIN to go to court.

So glad those divorce papers are signed...it has really gotten the process moving...yes, that is sarcasm.

You Can't Get To Heaven On Roller Skates

Today may very well end up being one of those days where you find yourself wearing roller skates at the very top of Lake Avenue and as you stand there, admiring the view of the city, wondering for a moment why in the hell you're wearing roller skates, the slightest of breezes ruffles your hair and nudges you forward one micrometer.

And it's all downhill from there. Next stop? Lake Superior.

Except you'll probably be killed in some construction zone somewhere along the way. Hey! At least you'll be crushed by heavy machinery before you can drown!

Always look on the bright side of life.

From presentations to lawyer visits to luncheons and meeting up with friends after work for "Birthday 2.0", I'm tired and I haven't even started yet.

I suppose waking up at 3 a.m didn't help but I couldn't resist. Do you remember what it was like when you were a kid and still believed in Santa? Remember that feeling of pure excitement that you got on Christmas morning right before you went downstairs to discover that yes, you were indeed the kid who got clothes for Christmas? That's what I woke up with this morning.

The feeling of potential energy. The buildup of excitement.

The "one eye open, one eye closed hand out to protect the face before you get hit with a crushing blow" kind of posture that could have one of two outcomes: Either your attacker decides that you're too pathetic to hit and walks away or else you get nailed.

Yes, I am filled with competing emotions. I want to believe that I will be able to walk into the lawyers office today and sign my name on the dotted line.

I am clicking my heels. I am paying no heed to the man behind the prison bars.

But there's always that creeping sensation that it's too good to be true. I can imagine the fine print to say "She has the right to change her name to 'the fucking whore that held me accountable for my actions and ruined my life'".

And frankly, that would be a little long to fit on my new passport.

What Kinda Mammal Do I Have To Sacrifice To Get Some Legal Assistance Here?

My lawyer's office is not the site of some horrifying meteor strike that decimated everyone inside yet mysteriously failed to make the evening news even though they are located next door to a newspaper.

Nor is everyone inside, sitting in their chairs, poised in front of their computers, their lack of flesh giving rise to rumors of an invasion of vashta nerada.

They are, in fact, still in business.

I did, in fact, just speak to the receptionist.

Is it possible to hear an anus tightening over the phone?

I asked her if I was being ridiculous...

She said no.

I asked her if I was being obnoxious...

She said no.

I asked her when I was going to get my damn letter written.

She said my case file was on the top of the pile on the lawyers desk. It should probably get done tomorrow.

Yeeeeeaaaaaahhhhhh riiiiiiggghhhtttt.

I'm guessing that line gets used at least ten times a day.

Wanna know where I think my file is?

Let's play a guessing game boys and girls!

1. Propping up the short leg on someone's desk in her office.

2. In the bathroom, being used as "campfire toilet paper".

3. Plugging up that pesky mouse hole.

4. Lining the cupboard in the office kitchenette.

5. Wallpapering her office (throw a little antique finish on those police reports and they'll almost be "retro". Hell, they practically ARE retro).

I have called. I have written notes. I have hired airplanes to trail those banners over her office. If I don't get my letter in three business days, I'm buying me a goat and a sharp fucking knife.

And no drop cloth.

And I'm heading up the highway to make a very messy point.

Call Me "Crater Gut"

Aside from a futile trip to the law makin' office today, I also went in and saw a real life doctor about my guts.

I am soooo glad I went into the poor folks clinic rather than the regular clinic for all o' them nice people that have things like health insurance and money.

No actually, I am...

I was terrified to take GI symptoms into a clinic that has no concept that people ever have to make a choice between prescriptions and food. I can guarantee that I would have had three radiological exams scheduled and a $200 prescription.

Instead I got a very thorough exam, blood work, a diagnosis of a probable ulcer, and enough free samples to get me through the next two months. If I'm not seeing some improvement by Monday, THEN we'll schedule radiology.

Wow. Can you imagine if every doctor actually considered practical ways to diagnose instead of the shotgun scatter of a ton of tests and a $5,000 bill in an hour? Can you imagine all those people screaming about keeping the government out of their Medicare (Yeah, if that phrase doesn't make you LAUGH at it's stupidity, you need to drink this purple kool-aid right here. Yes, this one...drink it ALLLLLL GONE.) actually ALLOWING a doctor to do that? Yes, there is a time and a place for the scattershot approach. Recognizing when that is would be the next hot button issue.

"My health care is ALWAYS an emergency...fuck everyone else."

I can hear it now.

AAAAANNNNNNYYYWAY.....

The next thing on the agenda, providing that my liver isn't rotting out (which I'm saying that it isn't because I can't afford a rotting liver and I look HORRIBLE in yellow) is to give this hole in my gut a name.

Off the top of my head, if I wanted to go with my inner bitch I'd have to call it Billy Jo Curtis. This would be a little bit of pedo combined with two little bits of lawyers.

Who is Billy Jo Curtis anyway?

Billy Jo Curtis will fuck your wife.

Billy Jo Curtis has a body built like a brick shit house.

Billy Jo Curtis has a body that smells like a brick shit house.

Billy Jo Curtis will shoot your dog.

Billy Jo Curtis likes to meet women on the internet cuz he can tell them he's prince charming.

Billy Jo Curtis will kick your cat.

Billy Jo Curtis will blame everyone else for everything that's wrong with his life.

Billy Jo Curtis NEVER makes a bad decision.

Billy Jo Curtis has a KKK tattoo.

Billy Jo Curtis lurks outside of kindergarten classes even though he doesn't have kids.

Billy Jo Curtis likes to hit women.

Billy Jo Curtis taps his foot in the men's room at the airport.

Billy Jo Curtis likes to wipe his greasy fingers on your clean car.

Billy Jo Curtis will key your car if you piss him off.

Billy Jo Curtis is ALWAYS pissed off.

Billy Jo Curtis doesn't give a shit about anyone but Billy Jo Curtis.

Billy Jo Curtis never returns your phone calls.

Billy Jo Curtis LOVES to spend YOUR money.

Billy Jo Curtis will always be a hater.

But if I actually named it Billy Jo Curtis, that would mean that I am carrying three bastards around that PISS ME OFF.

That can't be healthy.

No, I think this is a good opportunity to realize that I can do better than that.

I will name her Tiffany.

Alice Through The Mail Slot

We're closing in hard on the one month mark since my lawyer informed me that she would send a written letter to the courts in order to get our case back on the docket.

Called the court today and the last correspondence that they have on file was chuckles, canceling our last court date because his pedo client was heading for the klink so he told the court we were going to settle. Providing that the kids keep the klinkified pedo's last name that is.

I left a message last week pointing out the fact that it was THREE WEEKS and could you CALL ME if something had come up to make another court date unnecessary.

Hmmmm. Is that the jeopardy theme I hear in the background?

Cut to today. Cut to me driving to her office out of town (note to self, don't ever hire a lawyer from another town). This was after calling every hour on the hour, just waiting for someone to pick up the phone. No one ever did. I am beyond leaving messages.

Hmmmm. Law office is locked up. Yes, it is just the lawyer and a very part time assistant. I realized that it was a shot in the dark that anyone would be there so instead, I leaned my forehead against her office door and gazed lovingly at the mail that had been deposited through her mail slot. Lucky bastards! Someone was going to actually pick them up in the near future and perhaps, just perhaps, READ THEM AND TAKE CARE OF BUSINESS.

I then sat down and wrote a note. Believe it or not, it was a very civil note. I was not rude in the least due to the fact that she has me by the short hairs and I ain't got no money for a THIRD lawyer. I slipped my note through the mail slot and as it lay there, I wondered if it was possible to lace it with anthrax using only the power of my mind. (Yes Mr. Homeland Security Officer, that was what is known as 'sarcastic humor'.)

Seriously. My first lawyer sits on my case for THREE MONTHS and doesn't file it with the court, Three months that I could have been collecting child support from a deadbeat pedo.

And I get pissed. And I fire her. And I hire someone else. AND IT HAS NOW BEEN THREE MORE MONTHS since anything has happened with my divorce.

As much as I come across as being a total flaming bitch sometimes on the internets, I use this as a medium to give voice to the psychotic monologue that runs through my head 90% of the time. Usually, I don't flip tits on people.

But I am so incredibly ready to have an aortic aneurysm at any second. Or actually an ulcer (funnily enough). Do I have sucker written on my forehead? Doormat? "Welcome"?

Did someone stick a piece of paper on my back on December 19th, 2008 that said "kick me"?

Cuz right now? I desperately want to kick back.

Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe

First of all, Ms. H. is doing quite well in her far, far away.

She entered an art contest at an anime convention and won first place.

She is in love with bullfighting. If you ever have a bull that is really pissing you off, I can hook you up.

Got a china shop? You know who to call.

I realized something as I got back. Something that I knew was there but I didn't know how much it was dragging me down.

The oppressiveness of this house and this existence here in this exact space.

I actually had a couple days straight when I didn't think about the past nine months. I actually felt like a normal, whole human being.

And then I got back to a mailbox with correspondence from my new best friends at the Department of Corrections. Apparently, since I asked for the info, I will be told whenever STBX gets out, changes his address, or dies for the ten years of his parole. I just need to keep them updated as to our whereabouts.

But, the one thing that just got me a tad annoyed was that they referred to him as Tracy Christopher Shaddox instead of Tracy Curtis Shaddox. Yes, they got his OID number correct and yes, that number is connected up to his correct information but it's just annoying. Everyone is human and everyone makes mistakes but if you can't get the little shit right, how can I assume you can handle the big stuff?

On other news fronts, I've decided that I'm going to create an interpretive dance routine to take to my lawyers office. Since phone calls and hen pecking don't seem to get me anywhere, I'm going to dress in a body suit covered in post it notes. Every single post it note will have a goal written on it. A goal that is currently being held up by the fact that I am still married.

See, she can tell me all she wants that "Mentally, you know you're divorced" and "You have to realize that this will be with you your entire life" but when it comes to refinancing my house, I need to dump the dead weight. (Oh, that's right. I'll be informed if he dies...I guess I need to dump the useless weight...)

And funnily enough, it's hard to get your case back on the court calendar when the COURT HASN'T HEARD FROM YOUR LAWYER TO GET THE COURT CASE BACK ON THE CALENDAR.

Yes. These things take time.

And they take more time when clients are soothed over with platitudes before they go on vacation only to come back from said vacation and learn that a request for another court date has yet to be made.

Maybe some day stalling lawyers will have the experience of taking a loved one into the emergency room when they have collapsed. The nurses will assure them that CPR is being given and all they need to do is sit down in the waiting room and shut up because THESE THINGS TAKE TIME.

And after a significant amount of time has passed, they will wander into the exam room only to find their loved one cold and lifeless and the doctors sitting around the break room playing cards.

Perhaps the doctor will look up at this point and an expression of dawning recognition will come across his face. "Oh! That's right! You were wanting us to do CPR, right? You were depending on us to do what we were supposed to do...well...sorry...my bad..."

Yeah, but I'm guessing that will never happen.

Life comes down to two kinds of people: the powerful and the powerless. For a couple of days, I had forgotten that.

Adjudicate This!

Do you ever just get sick and damn tired of having your chain jerked?

I checked the court calendar this morning at 6:30 and our divorce hearing wasn't listed. When I called the court administrator this morning, she told me that it had been cancelled and the notation was "hope to settle".

Thing is, no one told me this.

Perhaps my lawyer didn't know? Can one side of a divorce action up and cancel a court date without telling the other side? Doesn't seem likely.

Which would mean that it sure would be nice if someone told me what the hell was going on.

STBX is still in town, does that mean he could sign divorce papers? I found out that I can track where he is located here before he goes into the prison system and here after he arrives. He will be heading to St. Cloud first and then who knows where. The sadly humorous thing is that all of his piss assed hateful requests during this divorce, meant only to hurt and delay the process, just might end up making a big fat headache for his lawyer. I can't imagine that it makes the divorce process any easier when you have to track your client down through the prison system.

Then again, delays also suck for me.

The criminal court process totally discounts the rights of the victim to know updated information regarding changes in court dates, et cetera but frankly, the fact that I had to find all this divorce crap out for myself and at 8 pm, I still haven't heard back from my lawyer when tomorrow was our court date, is ridiculous.

There is a seventh circle in hell, reserved strictly for lawyers.

Now, what the hell am I going to do with all this blue eye shadow???

Note To The Justice System: Today, You Did Good

This is what an elevator full of fabulous people look like















and more people
















So many people showed up for my daughter and I that they had to move it to a bigger courtroom.

Sweeter still? STBX was already in the smaller courtroom and in order to get to the bigger courtroom, he had to walk right through our posse.

It was the first time that I registered sincere discomfort in him.

Loved it!

Then, once we were in the larger courtroom, with all of us wearing our badges made by PAVSA with a picture of a screaming cheetah that said "Silence is not an option", my daughter and I read our impact statements.

We were told ahead of time that we were to address the court, not STBX. We both stuck to our script and made it through without falling to pieces.

Then his lawyer stood up and asked for a special dispensation which would mean he would go to jail and not prison.

Because all his lawyer wanted to focus on was the here and now. HERE AND NOW. NOT WHAT THE PAST WAS.

Well, duh.

If the law is on your side, pound on the law. If the facts are on your side, pound on the facts. And if nothing is on your side, pound on the table.

Then STBX stood up and told about how he has been devastated for the past year, crying on his delivery routes, knowing that he needed help, blah blah blah. That he was afraid to disclose to me because I often said BAD THINGS ABOUT PEDOPHILES. (Hmmmm, saying that you were abused and needed help doesn't mean that you need to disclose to me the fact that you had an urge to touch little children. I stated in my impact statement that he should have asked for help BEFORE becoming a molester, not after wards.) He also tried to refute the fact that he confessed to me before turning himself in to a pedophile help line. He said it all came down at the same time that he had a girlfriend and it was hard because our marriage was on the rocks.

Note to STBX: You were the captain that parked that boat on the rocks...tell it to the coast guard.

Mid-way through his address, he turned to Marina and started to talk to her about how he thought that, when he confessed, that the two of them would be able to go through family therapy together and straighten it all out.

Everyone in our group visibly choked at that one. "Hi honey, I know I showed you hard core porn and asked you to repeatedly reenact it upon me starting when you were nine years old but don't you think we can just sit down together and work it out? Cuz daddy loves you! That's what daddies do when they love their little girls!"

I put my arm around my daughter's shoulder but she was as rigid as stone. I made sure to look off into the distance and not meet his eye. I very nearly stood up to block his view of her.

Then the judge told him he needed to turn around and address the court. He then wrapped it up with how much he loved his kids. Know what he didn't say?

"I'm sorry"

As two official members of the legal system told me later, all he did with what he said was to hang himself. He has been living in his own world for so long that there is absolutely no grounding in reality. Today made that evident for all to see.

Then it was the judges chance to speak.

He started out by recognizing STBX's attempts at therapy and said that was a good thing.

We all felt our stomachs turn.

He then said that it was an invalid argument to state that STBX was devastated for a year but waited until his affair was found out to fall apart and confess to a call in line.

There was no special dispensation.

The sentence is 90 months in prison which adds up to be 5 years time served along with ten years of parole in which, should he ever darken our doorstep during that decade, he will return to prison.

I got to watch as he was put into handcuffs and led away.

This is what a fabulous group of supporters did when all the hugging was done.
















These are two very tired ladies, ready to have some down time.

I have never been more proud of my daughter than I was today. She is strong, capable, beautiful, and amazing.




















If he is allowed to show up to the divorce hearing on Tuesday, I hope it's wearing one of those lovely orange jumpsuits. Come hell or high water, I want a picture of that!

Let's See Disney Make THIS Into A Movie

Little girls have dreams.

Whether they are prancing around in their princess costumes or hanging upside down from the apple tree in the backyard, they have dreams about their future.

I ALWAYS dreamed that I would never be married to a convicted felon.

From the time that I was putting on dress up clothes and arranging my stuffed animals into family groups, I would sometimes pause, cock my head to one side, place my index finger in the dimple of my right cheek and say:

"Of all the things I can have in this world, I hope I never am married to a man deemed "scum-worthy" by the prevailing legal system."

Whether he is taken into custody on June 26th or not, that will be the date that he is sentenced. He will be a convicted felon. That much is not up for debate.

I wanted to have our divorce crap completed by father's day. I wanted that symbolic holiday to be mine, not his.

But I suppose telling his lawyer that I won't life a damn finger to give him back his possessions, that if he wants to retrieve anything he has to obey the rules for the order for protection, that perhaps it has slowed things down.

So, perhaps I won't be divorced by father's day. Nevertheless, it would be great to be divorced by June 25th. The little girl in me would like to at least be able to say "Of all the disappointments I've encountered in my life, at least I was never married to a felon."

Best of all? I WON'T be baking a cake with a file in it.

I'll Take You AND Your Pancakes To Court!

Scene from Pancake Day At The DECC:

Five thousand people waiting in line for tons of pancakes and who do I find myself standing next to? Who is edging his way up to the griddle while balancing four plates, ready for a pancake-gasm? Getting dangerously close to cutting me off?

Why, STBX's divorce lawyer of course!

That's when I leaned over to my son and said, loud enough to be heard by the potential line jumper, "Look son! It's your daddy's lawyer!"

He looked behind him, saw me, and for a fat man, simply disappeared back in the crowd. It was a beautiful thing.

Listen buddy, you can do your best to let the dregs of humanity drill me a new asshole but you don't know pissed off until you get between me and my pancakes.

Welcome To My Thursday

It's quite an interesting head trip to run into a blog reader who recognizes me and stops to say hello. Hi Pam! I'll have to take your word for it that not all lawyers are rotten!

Speaking of lawyers, is it typical to receive legal paperwork in the mail that does indeed belong to you but has a cover letter addressed to some other client? I wonder how many cover letters have my name on them but are going to other people?

So far, I like my second lawyer but I'm just looking at it from the perspective of spending a lot of money to get a fairly straight forward process accomplished. I don't want a doctor mixing up my specimens with other patients (which has happened) and I don't want my lawyer sending cover letters with other people's business on them to me and consequently, my business to other people. It's a fairly small operation and there is a chance that it was done by my lawyer and not her office assistant. Either way, I'm really not amused.

I was also not amused to see someone at the gym this morning that I find to be an annoying little, petty man. As my daughter would say, he's a ginger and gingers have no soul. (Guess what, her father was a ginger too.) Because I am an annoying little, petty woman I made sure to adjust all of the equipment as I got off to be about a hundred pounds heavier than what I was really lifting. I have no idea why he felt the need to follow directly after me on each and every machine but either he was amazed at how much weight I was lifting or he was pissed at me for being a bitch. It made me giggle.

I was totally zoned out this morning as I was working out and I ended up doing about a hundred reps on three machines before I figured out that I MIGHT be overdoing it a bit. When I got into work, I went to turn my computer on and I couldn't raise my arms to push the button. I then needed a coworker to help me wipe my nose and we won't even discuss what happened in the bathroom...

As soon as the day is done, I will be taking my kids for Lion's Pancake Day at the DECC. Next to hot sex with oiled down cabanna boys and an eight ball with a pint, Pancake Day is my most favorite vice!

Side note: Is it socially appropriate to announce in public that "I like my coffee like I like my presidents, hot and black"?

Yeah, that's me. Full of piss, vinegar, and coming soon...PANCAKES!!!

Is that Jose Cuervo In Your Pocket Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

The next date for the divorce crap is May 5th.

MAY 5th? Cinco De Mayo! WTF? Doesn't the court system know of my Mexican heritage? My deep seated love for all things that involve tequila? And it's at 4 pm! I should be half in the bag by that time!

Plus, it's the Buddha's birthday and being the highly devout Buddhist that I am, I think it's bad karma to be involved in such negativity on that day. Plus...TEQUILLA PEOPLE! Buddha would want me to truly understand what suffering is and I will...on the morning of May 6th.

Somehow I feel that I will be in less than a party mood afterwards. It takes a certain amount of levity to wear an overly large sombrero and have the bartender mix the margaritas directly in your salt encrusted mouth. I need to be in the right frame of mind.

Oh well. I suppose I will endure but it's shit like this that REALLY makes me angry.

Now that we have our name change date and I have the next divorce date, you know what that leaves...hellllloooooo criminal court.....the judge is back now....and our date is what???

So far our little tour around the legal system will have taken us in front of four different judges. I'm thinking of creating a Flat Stanley project and touring him around the local lawyers and judges to document what life has been for our family in 2009.

I could think of some stellar captions:

"Here's Stanley, meeting the criminal lawyer that managed to get the parent off after it was discovered that their baby died when it was thrown against the wall. He's a very smart man and got them off on a technicality. Isn't that special kids?"

"Here's the judge that gave a harsher sentence to a man that fucked a dead deer than to a man who raped a woman. Wave hello kids..."

"And here's the future Harkness children's daddy. He likes little children in a very bad way. His story is still being written."

Yeah, which way to the tequilla?

Hold Onto Your Hats!

I got the opportunity to talk to STBX's divorce attorney this morning. I'm doing our name change on my own, not through my divorce attorney, so I need to get the court date info to STBX. As a sperm donor and pathetic excuse for a father, he is allowed to show up and object if he should so choose.

I'm choosing to go alone on this to save lawyer fees. Law type people have asked me why I don't just wait to get my name changed for free during the divorce, even though that will not change the kid's names.

And I shall respond with my well practiced legalese "WELL DUH!"

It costs the same to change the kid's names as it does to change my name AND the kid's names. Hey law-type people, IT'S ALL THE SAME FEE!!!!

It has nothing to do with money. THAT is why lawyers don't understand.

It has to do with psychology. Lawyers just understand how to lie and bend the truth and fuck you so hard up the ass that your screwed seven ways to Sunday. Or else they are terribly helpful and will do anything for you, provided you are willing to donate a kidney, your left arm, and your first born child.

Either way, you're screwed. Get used to it.

So, as soon as I get my court date, I have to send the paperwork to STBX's lawyer and he will get it to STBX. Then, I will bring my kids to court along with my witnesses who can confirm our identity and vouch for the fact that we were only on a summer vacation when we went to that terrorist training camp in Afghanistan two years ago (yeah, that's a joke by the way...).

It's going to be interesting to see if he objects. In all of the horrible douchbaggery that he has perpetrated upon this family, I think objecting to our name change would put me right over the edge. It would simply be a cold-hearted mind fuck, a way of screwing us just to screw us.

Which means, I wouldn't doubt that he shows up.

I have to believe that his history with our family and the ages of our kids (they are old enough to make an informed decision and explain it to the court) would certainly sway the judge over to our corner.

But if he wants to be an ass, I guess he'll have to be prepared to be called a pedophile in open court and listen to what his kids really think of him.

Choices. Ain't life just full of'em?

Divorced By Father's Day???

Hopefully, this whole divorce schtick will be done in a month. There wasn't a lot of differences and the two lawyers are hopefully going to get this shit straight soon.

We were both excused from mandatory parenting class. When the judge asked about custody and I said I had it, I also made sure to mention the order for protection. When the judge didn't know about the criminal case, I started to open my mouth but my lawyer made sure to pat my arm and say "I'll handle this". Smart lady. My next words were going to be involve twenty nine variants of the word pedophile.

Things I learned ? He got fired from his job. Since he was a contract employee, he is getting no money for unemployment. It might come down to a point of settling for no child support in lieu of me paying him money for the house. We'll just have to see how it all shakes out but I'm willing to walk away from him with that deal. If I were forced to pay him a single red cent for this house, I would simply lock the door and walk away. I'm sure my credit will be ruined sooner or later and I'm willing to ruin my credit before I give him so much as $1.00,

I had my hate filled glare going. We were kept well apart before the hearing and separated by two lawyers during the hearing. But I made sure to look him in the eye when I had the chance, and send my most hate filled vibes his way.

He is a sorry, pathetic piece of shit. Hopefully, I'll be rid of him before the criminal trial commences. (By the way, our criminal trial judge is on personal leave. Yeee-haw.) I did find out that he is going to the Center for Sexual Health which I'm sure will be used in the criminal trial to show that he's really a responsible guy.

Speaking from someone who has been abused, the fact that he was abused cuts no slack with me. It fucks you up and it frankly, the willingness to screw another person up in the same manner is even more reprehensible.

I'm sure his girlfriend will be there for him. Along with her 6 year old daughter.

What I Prefer To Do and What I Have To Do

A lot of legal machinations have been grinding away since I now have an initial court date for divorce "negotiations" on Tuesday. For awhile I was concerned about not getting my new lawyer in place before the date on Tuesday but everything is set to go now.

STBX's lawyer called me when he found out that I fired my lawyer and asked if I was representing myself or what. Since I had the first lawyer finally file the case (after how many months???)it automatically triggers an "Early Neutral Evaluation" meeting where everyone gets to sit around a table and see if divorce court can be avoided.

He asked me if I would prefer to not have to sit in the same room as STBX. I said yes, that is what I would prefer.

I then hung up the phone and went "Ohhhhh! I'll bet he was wondering if I was planning on halting the ENE on Tuesday!"

Yeah, not the brightest bulb around.

Oh well, I'll be there. My lawyer will be there. And the Pedophile and his lawyer will be there as well.

Not because I prefer to, but because I have to.

Telling two lawyers to work it out without someone placing a time frame on it doesn't work. I can't imagine that they would be too motivated to get things done in a timely manner as I'm sure they milk things for more money everyday.

It also occurred to me that I am only looking at this from my perspective. I don't want to have to face the man that cheated on me and molested my daughter. But guess what? I'm thinking he really doesn't want to go to court either because he has yet to be "named" for what he is. His criminal lawyer made sure that the judge was interrupted before he could read out the charges. His divorce lawyer and my divorce lawyer have coddled his ass for months. Keeping it quiet has done nothing but allow him to fuck his girlfriend and not pay child support.

I would prefer not to go on Tuesday.
But I have to.

It's time to put on my big girl panties and point a finger at him and say "No."

Sleepless in Duluth

Last night involved two whole hours of sleep.

Hey, I must be getting better, two nights ago involved no sleep at all.

Next week's court date falls one hour after my daughter has her first therapist appointment. Nothing like winning mother of the year by dropping your kid off at the therapist and running to the courthouse to see "daddy".

Because I fired my lawyer, all of the paperwork I received yesterday was delayed just enough to make today the day that I need to get everything handed into the new lawyer. Last night was filled with the misery of having to see his loser ass and perhaps being expected to be civil. It was also filled with nightmares of having all my paperwork eaten by the fax machine and my new lawyer getting into a horrible python wrestling accident and being delayed in coming to court because she was dragging a python that was wrapped around her left leg and then there was the car accident on the way to the court house which was caused by the earthquake and tornado. (Hysteria is a dish best served weeping, gnashing, and wrapped in twisted bed covers.)

Spiraling....spiraling....spiraling

Is That The Soundtrack To "Rocky" I Hear?

Next Tuesday is our first meeting in court for the divorce, I received the paperwork today.

Included in the paperwork was the brochure for the "class" that we will be required to take on "How Divorce Affects Children", only $65 each!

If it all shakes out that I am, indeed, required to take this class, the teacher will regret ever seeing my face in the room.

I will be the one waiving my Order For Protection, the charge sheet from St. Louis County, and letters from both therapists for both children.

How Does Divorce Affect Children?

How does molestation affect children? What part of this situation is "normal" enough to fit inside the pigeon holes offered up by this class? Do I have to sit through a four hour discussion of custody and visitation information? Do I have to learn how daddies have a right to their children too?

If I have to go, then stbx had better be required to go. And I'll be damned if I won't try to find out when he's going. So I can go then too.

Cuz we all need a little comic relief right? We all need a woman asking about how molestation affects children while pointing to the pedophile sitting in the corner.

Oh baby! IT IS ON!!!

*Update* DAMN! There is a box to check if the divorce involves abuse...I'm guessing that it is to prevent exactly what I was speaking of. Don't they know that A LOT of people watch Jerry Springer??? Haven't they read The Lottery? Don't they know the cathartic nature of a mob with torches?

Some people just don't know how to take lemons and make lemonade.

I Think We Should Start Seeing Other People

Sometimes you have to bite the bullet. Sometimes you have to look at the situation and realize that things are just pathetic, disfunctional, and need to change.

I'm speaking here of my divorce attorney.

Yeah. When you find out that you have been a client of your attorney for three months and two weeks and she hasn't filed ANYTHING with the courts yet...hmmmm. Yeah. Time to switch teams.

Perhaps now, things will actually get moving???

What a concept! Someone will actually be in MY corner for a change!

Hot Water! Welcome to the Twentieth Century!

Hmmmm. I wonder if there is a way to tell your online friends that you're going to prison...

I found that article to be so pathetic...but anything associated with online gaming is pathetic to me.

I finally got to meet with the prosecuting attorney yesterday. He chatted with my daughter in his office for a bit and then answered some of my questions. It was nice to be able to touch base with him and let him know how I was feeling. He seemed like a nice guy and it felt good to finally meet a lawyer that I honestly believed was on my side.

Today has been spent making and freezing meals as last week we ate out WAY to much. Between all the school activities, group therapy, solo therapy, lawyer appointments, and whatever else happens to pop us, there is rarely an evening when we don't have something to do. Put that on top of the fact that I feel like I'm holding myself together with bubblegum and good intentions and needless to say, coming home and cooking isn't generally high on my list of fun things to do. When your kid asks "Mom, what's for dinner" and you start to weep silently, yeah...kind of an indication that it will be a great night for Cheerios.

I am, however, admitting to FINALLY being in love.

He's a little shorter than me and perhaps built like a brick shit house but ladies I have got to let you in on a little secret...





He's GREAT in the shower!