Still Hurting

Well I still feel like pig tripe, but eh, what's a girl gonna do?

I had a great conversation with my little sister Red this evening. (The one whose child will need years of intense psychotherapy from spending time with her favorite auntie). Apparently my niece's "father" saw her for the first time in 4 years over the weekend, but only because my sister needed to get a medical card from him now that he finally has a job. After the visit he sent her an e-mail requesting that my sister allow my niece to go with him for a weekend. What the motherfucking fuck is he trying to pull?

Seriously. The fuck???

After I ranted and raved and raged for about five minutes, Red assured me that there was no WAY in hell the cum guzzling prison bitch would be allowed anywhere near her. Oh, did you all catch that little tidbit of information download? Yeah. Prisonbitch.

So maybe we need a little back story. Some filling in for the folks at home.

About 5 years ago, Red and PB (prisonbitch) decided to get engaged. The egg donor then kicked my sister out of her house. Having nowhere to go, Red called me up and came to Ohio to live with me. She brought that deep throating sumbitch with her. I love my sister and we were doing our best to help her out. So Mr. ADW and I were already trying to get my grams an apartment by our condo and this worked out really well. My sister would share the apartment with her and help defray some of the expenses. For a while Grams, Red and PB were all living with us. It was then that I realized what a stupid cunt PB was. He did NOTHING. All day. I take that back he did three things. He ate my food, shit in my toilet and slept in one of my beds. Finally, we got them into a lease of their own and out of our house.

Then my sister drops the bomb. Yep folks she's knocked up. OK, I can deal with this. No problem. Meanwhile PB went through fast food restaurant jobs quicker than the Mighty Dyckerson goes through Kleenexes during Desperate Housewives - quick, fast and in a hurry. My sister has a job clerking at a local discount grocery store. Things are not going well, but the train is beginning to move out of the station.

Then one day my sister goes to work. PB takes a load of laundry to the communal laundry room in one section of the apartment complex. Grams waits for him to get back. Red comes home. Still no sign of PB. Dinnertime comes. Still no sign of PB. Guess what people? That wasn't laundry in the basket. PB took off. We ended up finding out that he walked to a bus stop and took the RTA to downtown Cleveland and caught the first Greyhound back to Maryland.

So now I have a devastated, impregnated 18 year old child on my hands. Fuck me sideways. All right. We'll do what we always do and look forward and get ready for this baby. I went to all of Red's gyno appointments with her. We celebrated the holidays. Then about halfway through her incubation, Red decides to move back in with Egg Donor and her father, actually they convinced her to come back. I won't lie and say I wasn't upset. I mean who would pick that white trash mess of a family over me? I am fucking nurturing people! But she had made up her mind and back to Maryland she went. Meanwhile I am already subsidizing part of the rent on the apartment and this was going to put me into a real big hole - I was still in college at the time. I actually told Red that since the egg donor convinced her to move out, she was going to have to front her portion of the rent until the end of the lease. We'll just say that I can be pretty persuasive when I need to be and a check was cut to my grandmother for the remainder of Red's portion of the lease.

I won't bore you with anymore long drawn out drama, but this is why PB is called PB:

- after moving back to Maryland he started selling drugs.
- he then moved into a crack house with a bunch of thugs and hookers
- there was a police raid on the aforementioned crack house
- the dumb fucker had a sawed off shotgun in his possession at the time of the raid
- he went to jail
- he got out of jail
- while on probation, the fucking idiot got caught selling drugs
- he went to PRISON
- the difference between jail and prison is the size of your asshole
- you can usually come out of jail relatively unmolested, but PB came out of prison an expert at Hog Riding and other Hog sports
- his Brown Eye is now approximately the size of a lamp post
- whenever he hears an authoritative male voice, he automatically grabs his ankles and starts praying
- the last I heard, he was diagnosed with loose sphincter syndrome and is once again selling drugs to pay for a re banding operation

And this useless piece of semi-human waste wants to see my niece. Over my dead and decomposing fucking body. Before I ever let that happen, I will find out where he is living, kidnap him from the rusted out trailer he is living in and make his prison stay look like a week at a Sandals resort. But not to worry, he doesn't have a chance in hell of making contact with the little angel. He has no parental rights to the child and were he ever to come up with the dough to take Red to court, I would bankroll that battle in a heartbeat.

Oh and there was no way he came up with the idea. Apparently this punk ass cumguzzling fuckoff got ANOTHER gal pregnant (one who is old enough to know better by the way) and she wants to meet my niece. Um, how about NO fucking way for $400 Alex?

My sister is somewhat amused by the whole thing and is not taking him seriously - he DOES NOT know where she lives at this time - but I am. I may have to make another little quick trip to the MD and take care of bidness. For now, I am coming up with specific plans of action to be implemented in case of emergency. These are the ones I have so far:

1. Call PB up and pretend I am looking to score some fill in the blank drugs. When he arrives at the deserted mountain lookout point, I push him over the edge and watch as his body breaks into a thousand pieces. Then I shit on his head.

2. Follow him to the lovely trailer park he is living in. Wait for the girlfriend to leave for her shift at Lulu's Magic Hands Massage Parlor and Carwash - no innocents will be harmed - and sneak up to the trailer. Once I am assured that the useless prick is napping, I will chain him up, cover him in honey and release the 1,000 bees I bought from a bee wrangler 3 states away.

3. Buy a strap on. Follow PB around until we reach a deserted stretch of Appalachian Mountain road. Run him off of the road into a crevasse. Watch as the car explodes and his body catches on fire. Put the fire out with my travel extinguisher once I am sure he is dead. Wait for the body to cool down. Don the strap on and use it to skullfuck him while the body is still warm.

4. I got nothing yet. Maybe you guys can help me out here. I need at least a total of 5 scenarios to feel like my backup plan has a backup plan.

I proofed this post and realized that I may have some hate/anger issues I need to work out. Oh wait - that's what this blog is for. Free therapy for everyone.

I think this illness is making me say and do things I normally wouldn't. The above scenarios are extremely mild for what that stupid shitface deserves.

OK, I think I'm done now.

ADW