KakodaimonosCode fondlerHelping the 1% get richerRegistered Userregular
edited April 2015
You've never had a Monte Cristo sandwich? Ham and cheese, dipped in batter, deep fried, dusted with powdered sugar and served with jam. An americanized croque monsieur.
My facebook used to be Archduke Chocula but somehow I was forced to change the name so I went and made a new account but I also made the mistake of making an account with my real name which I gave up on after getting friend after friend invite from people I had no idea who they were
You've never had a Monte Cristo sandwich? Ham and cheese, dipped in batter, deep fried, dusted with powdered sugar and served with jam. An americanized croque monsieur.
I have had something called a Monte Cristo. It was not that.
A small update. I spoke with a lawyer today, who confirmed that they don't believe my mother has much against me...and would also be hard-pressed to find somebody to represent her in court. That's a bit of a relief.
I've been having a few dreams here and there bordering on nightmares where she's in my personal space, threatening me or physically attacking me. It suuuuuucks. I wake up feeling incredibly anxious and uncomfortable.
Today she volunteered another bit of communication: a text message that only contained a photograph of a check for the loan. How non passive-aggressive of her! I'm so surprised.
I'm probably going to change my number this week, and tell the relevant people at work that if somebody claiming to be my mother shows up, to not let her into the office.
I really, really wish there was some way to completely remove her as an influence over my emotions (barring changing my name and moving out of the country). I've felt high-strung and on high alert almost constantly since she sent me that initial email mid-February. It's exhausting - I just want to sleep all day, and can barely concentrate at work. I'm just waiting for her to call me again in the middle of the work day, or show up in the parking lot. It feels like there will be no rest from her for the foreseeable future.
BLUGH
I need a dog. Dogs fix everything! It's the truth.
Had a Monte Cristo with a friend at a chain called Cheddars.
I approached it with an open mind, but it was just too sweet for me and I felt a bit sick afterwards. It felt like there was a critical element of sandwichiness that was missing.
It might just be that place's take on it though.
I need a priest to exorcise a host of demons from my mother and stepfather. Most of the demons will be of the Why-Doesn't-Anybody-Love-Me and Wikipedia-Says-I-Have-Muscular-Dystrophy-So-Pity-Me varieties.
I can understand how (in a single month) that a whiny and self-absorbed-man-child can latch on to any excuse to drum up sympathy, so we'll just pick a rare and incurable one, but don't bother taking me to the doctor to do a muscle biopsy, that would involve me telling the truth.
What I can't understand is how (in that same single month), my mother went from delicate but resilient matron to I just wanna play the new Farmville for 12 hours a day on the weekend and chain smoke two packs on those days.
To be sure, there is some depressing shit that's happened in the last year for the both of them, but I somehow can't work up the energy to do 95% of the motivation anymore; she lost her father, he lost his mom, that's some heavy shit for anyone. I have an opportunity (thanks to a fine forumer here) to get back home to Dallas in the near future and I'm not losing it for lack of trying.
If I don't fit the bill with experience, physical ability, personality, or even bikini-cup-size, fine, that's on me, that's Tough Titty, Life in the Big City.
But I am not sacrificing one more goddamned ounce of my mental health trying to help these people find their fucking backbones anymore. I love my mother, I truly do, but I'm not going to be her surrogate husband and caregiver for the next decade while she smokes herself into an early grave and refuses to engage in her own well being.
Truth be told, if the romance lottery struck tomorrow and became a father in the next year or so, I wouldn't let her around my kids for very long at a time; what used to be constant guilt-tripping as a kid has turned into borderline psychological-vampirism.
It really sounds like they've been on this path for a while, but it's hard to see gradual things when you're up close to them. Hugs, dude, and fingers crossed for you with Dallas. Who knows, maybe you moving will be the thing that jars your mom out of the pattern she's in.
Either way, you can't live your life as someone's life raft. That's how you drown, and then everyone sinks.
Stepfather is actually ill with something, doctor's appointment is on Wednesday; my guess is a decidedly non-educated one, but I'm hedging towards adult onset diabetes considering his terrible eating habits and complete lack of exercise. Since my mother can't lift his full weight, she's calling her brother to come down and help take care of him.
I haven't seen this man in almost twenty years and I have no desire to speak with him much less live in the same house.
Stepfather went to the ER this morning because he felt like he was 'going to die.'
Preliminary tests showed that his blood pressure was plummeting at a critical rate while he's been barely able to move over the last few days.
Affliction: internal bleeding resulting in loss of energy and strength.
Diagnosis: lying like always.
Culprit: I'm in some remote pain so I'm going to self-medicate with every prescription painkiller I have as well as every over-the-counter-medication in the house. I'm also not going to monitor my diet nor will I exercise to relieve the acute skeletal and muscular pain I feel from sitting on my ass for two months while being in my sixties and at least a hundred pounds overweight.
He's finishing his first of three blood transfusions just now in the ICU. The attending physician basically read him the riot act about how he's killing himself and that if he should go into organ failure, he won't be eligible for a transplant of any kind because of his refusal to maintain a healthy diet or exercise of any kind.
I can't begin to describe how this behavior is so very narcissistic and completely in pattern with his previous behavior, but I'll try, in reverse order:
-Lose a contract job, refuse the new contract with lesser pay and lesser benefits in favor of Unemployment/Welfare until he can retire early in August at 62 years of age.
-Have a great schedule with better pay as a dispatch operator with his transit company, but fuck it all up because he can't be bothered to remove an employee from the room for disciplinary/HR issues.
-Forget to change the engine oil and transmission fluid in his car for three years, but expect me and Mom to shell out eight thousand dollars over a year to replace said engine and transmission in a car that is currently worth one thousand dollars.
-Have his mother pass and leave him a few bucks and spend two grand on a motorcycle that he'll never ride again after last Autumn.
-Fuck up his child support while moving from Nevada to Texas, fail to contact a lawyer, have ex-wife garnish wages and then Nevada Law states that the ex can raid Mom's bank account for ten grand.
-Have a heart attack and then blame 'job stress' while collecting no unemployment or disability because he can't be bothered to fill out the paperwork. For two fucking years.
I know it's silly to some, but I have stated before that every person has a metaphysical and tied-to-the-universe-destiny. Sometimes, good people will do right and they can be held up to a shining example of who and what a good person can be. Other times, bad people can be pointed to as an example of what not to be. Everybody has a destiny, real or perceived.
This motherfucker just made my shit list in new and improved ways.
I will never be this person.
I will never ask for more than I can give.
I will never expect someone to take care of me if I can't take care of myself.
Wait, how the fuck does Nevada law grant his last ex (here's hoping your mom will decide to claim that title) access to your mom's presumably Texan bank account? That's fucked up.
Just got off the phone with my Dad, wow, what a calming experience.
Just ...
Just nothing but support and kind words and letting me know that my anger was valid but not to let it consume me; he's really become an incredible person with an amazing amount of physical and moral resilience.
Dangit.
Now I have to talk to Pastor Cheryl at our Presbyterian Church.
Probably some legal clause that makes it so all assets are shared after marriage if there isn't a prenup, or something like that.
In unrelated news, my sister "Gwen" called the house, completely hysterical at 3:42 am because "Gwen" got into a massive fight with a friend, "Maris," who was supposed to be her roommate next year. "Maris" told "Gwen" that "Maris"s boyfriend hit her/tried to take "Maris"s clothes off. "Gwen" wanted to tell somebody/do something about it, and was probably especially adamant about it because of the stuff that happened with our dad several months ago.
"Maris" told her not to. "Gwen" told "Maris" not to tell her something like that unless she wanted "Gwen" to do something about it. "Maris" brought it up again, so "Gwen" and several other friends (all of whom had been drinking) decided that it would be a great idea to wake "Maris"s boyfriend up and confront him about this. The boyfriend claimed the incident never happened, so they then went and woke up "Maris." "Maris" flips out at "Gwen," who becomes hysterical to the point where "Gwen"s two other friends are afraid to leave "Gwen" alone, and make her call us at home.
Being a night owl, I was just getting ready to go to bed when "Gwen" called the house, crying so hard she couldn't talk. At first, I thought she'd been attacked or something, then she started saying things like how she'd been really, really sad about everything since the stuff with Dad happened and she didn't see the point of anything anymore. So I have a mini-panic attack because I think my little sister's about to hurt herself, rush upstairs, and wake up my mom.
Mom calmed "Gwen" down, told "Gwen" she wasn't allowed to live with "Maris" next year and pulled the "I control all your money" card so there's nothing "Maris" can do to force "Gwen" into living with her. Gwen seems to be a little better, and has been sending my mom screenshots of "Maris" harassing her via text message so Mom's got a better idea of what's been going on.
BUT the text message screen shots revealed that "Gwen" may actually be suicidal, although she has been insisting that it's "just when she gets really sad/upset" and they're just thoughts- there isn't intent behind them. Either way, I'm pretty sure that is really fucking bad. "Gwen" and I don't get along... at all. But she didn't deserve to be treated that way by "Maris." And I don't want her to feel so sad she wants to die.
And to top it off, Mom's now really, really hesitant to do something about my dad being an abusive asshole, because if she does something and he cuts off her access to their money, she won't be able to get "Gwen" psychological help. Because "Dad" firmly believes that all mental problems can be solved if you just make yourself stop being sad and nervous, so he won't pay for anything.
Wait, how the fuck does Nevada law grant his last ex (here's hoping your mom will decide to claim that title) access to your mom's presumably Texan bank account? That's fucked up.
Common law states with no regard of financial impact on the difference of income between municipalities, that's how.
Stepfather went to the ER this morning because he felt like he was 'going to die.'
Preliminary tests showed that his blood pressure was plummeting at a critical rate while he's been barely able to move over the last few days.
Affliction: internal bleeding resulting in loss of energy and strength.
Diagnosis: lying like always.
Culprit: I'm in some remote pain so I'm going to self-medicate with every prescription painkiller I have as well as every over-the-counter-medication in the house. I'm also not going to monitor my diet nor will I exercise to relieve the acute skeletal and muscular pain I feel from sitting on my ass for two months while being in my sixties and at least a hundred pounds overweight.
He's finishing his first of three blood transfusions just now in the ICU. The attending physician basically read him the riot act about how he's killing himself and that if he should go into organ failure, he won't be eligible for a transplant of any kind because of his refusal to maintain a healthy diet or exercise of any kind.
I can't begin to describe how this behavior is so very narcissistic and completely in pattern with his previous behavior, but I'll try, in reverse order:
-Lose a contract job, refuse the new contract with lesser pay and lesser benefits in favor of Unemployment/Welfare until he can retire early in August at 62 years of age.
-Have a great schedule with better pay as a dispatch operator with his transit company, but fuck it all up because he can't be bothered to remove an employee from the room for disciplinary/HR issues.
-Forget to change the engine oil and transmission fluid in his car for three years, but expect me and Mom to shell out eight thousand dollars over a year to replace said engine and transmission in a car that is currently worth one thousand dollars.
-Have his mother pass and leave him a few bucks and spend two grand on a motorcycle that he'll never ride again after last Autumn.
-Fuck up his child support while moving from Nevada to Texas, fail to contact a lawyer, have ex-wife garnish wages and then Nevada Law states that the ex can raid Mom's bank account for ten grand.
-Have a heart attack and then blame 'job stress' while collecting no unemployment or disability because he can't be bothered to fill out the paperwork. For two fucking years.
I know it's silly to some, but I have stated before that every person has a metaphysical and tied-to-the-universe-destiny. Sometimes, good people will do right and they can be held up to a shining example of who and what a good person can be. Other times, bad people can be pointed to as an example of what not to be. Everybody has a destiny, real or perceived.
This motherfucker just made my shit list in new and improved ways.
I will never be this person.
I will never ask for more than I can give.
I will never expect someone to take care of me if I can't take care of myself.
It's called multiple myeloma and it is probably the death knell for him.
Diagnosis:
-Kidney tumor
-Thyroid tumor
-Spinal tumor that has metastisized through the spinal column and into the spinal cord
-Oncologist stopped counting occlusions and lesions in his entire skeleton when he reached seventy-five of them, ranging from pinhole-sized to pencil-sized, all major bones, quite a few in his skull
Prognosis:
-Less than 50% chance of survival from aggressive chemo and radiation therapy, possible two years of life expectancy with almost certain paraplegia, constant need for care, catheter, colostomy bag, the whole works
-If there is no response from chemo and radiation therapy, he could live in agony for up to two months, but it's not likely
-Aggressive chemo and radiation therapy are financially non-viable unless Ben Taub or LBJ Hospitals accept him for 'indigent care' because he has no insurance
-Financial Aid requires Mom to cut back to twenty hours a week ... which means we lose the house, the very thing I've been fighting and working for over the last four-and-a-half years
-Just had to turn down the interview that the most-excellent @chromdom tried to hook me up with, not because I can't drop everything, but because it takes a monumental shitstain to abandon family at this moment and I need to be able to look at myself in the mirror
"But DeeDubs! Couldn't this have gone another way?"
Yes. Yes, it could have.
Despite the protestations of the oncologist and the radiologist, my mother gently and firmly asked whether or not this could have been avoided or averted or properly managed three months ago when Step-Dick started talking about a backache.
"Ma'am, if he had come to us a month ago, it would have been a good five years of hard work, but pain-free. If he had come to us two months ago before self-diagnosing with pills and booze, he could have had ten years."
"What about three months ago?"
"He would have been able to see his great-grandchildren and change their diapers."
Congratulations, David, because this is the exact kick-in-the-ass I needed to finally drop my smokes in the trash.
Well fucking done.
(I'm probably going to flip out in a day or two, so pray for my co-workers' safety.)
+9
Options
Blake TDo you have enemies then?Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.Registered Userregular
creegan, you do not need to stick quotation marks around these fake names.
Unless you are actively trying to drive me crazy.
If that is the case, well done, you are good at it.
Posts
Satans..... hints.....
Well I was.
I have no idea what kako is on about.
I could have been a kingston.
Satans..... hints.....
I'm onto you.
Satans..... hints.....
Yes, the proud line of Bananahammocks.
A long, glorious line.
Whippy gon' be mad you say she's eating imaginary foods
Whippy is imaginary
dang I gotta find another groomsperson
I have had something called a Monte Cristo. It was not that.
I want that.
It's hard to keep track of that family line though. They always seem to slip into the cracks.
I've been having a few dreams here and there bordering on nightmares where she's in my personal space, threatening me or physically attacking me. It suuuuuucks. I wake up feeling incredibly anxious and uncomfortable.
Today she volunteered another bit of communication: a text message that only contained a photograph of a check for the loan. How non passive-aggressive of her! I'm so surprised.
I'm probably going to change my number this week, and tell the relevant people at work that if somebody claiming to be my mother shows up, to not let her into the office.
I really, really wish there was some way to completely remove her as an influence over my emotions (barring changing my name and moving out of the country). I've felt high-strung and on high alert almost constantly since she sent me that initial email mid-February. It's exhausting - I just want to sleep all day, and can barely concentrate at work. I'm just waiting for her to call me again in the middle of the work day, or show up in the parking lot. It feels like there will be no rest from her for the foreseeable future.
BLUGH
I need a dog. Dogs fix everything! It's the truth.
I approached it with an open mind, but it was just too sweet for me and I felt a bit sick afterwards. It felt like there was a critical element of sandwichiness that was missing.
It might just be that place's take on it though.
http://properlypettingpuppies.tumblr.com/post/115233080696/hello-i-missed-you-while-i-was-sleeping-but-im
YESSSSSSSSSSS
I can understand how (in a single month) that a whiny and self-absorbed-man-child can latch on to any excuse to drum up sympathy, so we'll just pick a rare and incurable one, but don't bother taking me to the doctor to do a muscle biopsy, that would involve me telling the truth.
What I can't understand is how (in that same single month), my mother went from delicate but resilient matron to I just wanna play the new Farmville for 12 hours a day on the weekend and chain smoke two packs on those days.
To be sure, there is some depressing shit that's happened in the last year for the both of them, but I somehow can't work up the energy to do 95% of the motivation anymore; she lost her father, he lost his mom, that's some heavy shit for anyone. I have an opportunity (thanks to a fine forumer here) to get back home to Dallas in the near future and I'm not losing it for lack of trying.
If I don't fit the bill with experience, physical ability, personality, or even bikini-cup-size, fine, that's on me, that's Tough Titty, Life in the Big City.
But I am not sacrificing one more goddamned ounce of my mental health trying to help these people find their fucking backbones anymore. I love my mother, I truly do, but I'm not going to be her surrogate husband and caregiver for the next decade while she smokes herself into an early grave and refuses to engage in her own well being.
Truth be told, if the romance lottery struck tomorrow and became a father in the next year or so, I wouldn't let her around my kids for very long at a time; what used to be constant guilt-tripping as a kid has turned into borderline psychological-vampirism.
How did this all happen in a single month?!?
Either way, you can't live your life as someone's life raft. That's how you drown, and then everyone sinks.
Stepfather is actually ill with something, doctor's appointment is on Wednesday; my guess is a decidedly non-educated one, but I'm hedging towards adult onset diabetes considering his terrible eating habits and complete lack of exercise. Since my mother can't lift his full weight, she's calling her brother to come down and help take care of him.
I haven't seen this man in almost twenty years and I have no desire to speak with him much less live in the same house.
*headdesk*headdesk*headdesk*headdesk*headdesk*headdesk*headdesk*headdesk*headdesk*headdesk*headdesk*headdesk*headdesk*headdesk*headdesk*
I really, really hope the Dallas stuff works out and you get out of there when you can.
Stepfather went to the ER this morning because he felt like he was 'going to die.'
Preliminary tests showed that his blood pressure was plummeting at a critical rate while he's been barely able to move over the last few days.
Affliction: internal bleeding resulting in loss of energy and strength.
Diagnosis: lying like always.
Culprit: I'm in some remote pain so I'm going to self-medicate with every prescription painkiller I have as well as every over-the-counter-medication in the house. I'm also not going to monitor my diet nor will I exercise to relieve the acute skeletal and muscular pain I feel from sitting on my ass for two months while being in my sixties and at least a hundred pounds overweight.
He's finishing his first of three blood transfusions just now in the ICU. The attending physician basically read him the riot act about how he's killing himself and that if he should go into organ failure, he won't be eligible for a transplant of any kind because of his refusal to maintain a healthy diet or exercise of any kind.
I can't begin to describe how this behavior is so very narcissistic and completely in pattern with his previous behavior, but I'll try, in reverse order:
-Lose a contract job, refuse the new contract with lesser pay and lesser benefits in favor of Unemployment/Welfare until he can retire early in August at 62 years of age.
-Have a great schedule with better pay as a dispatch operator with his transit company, but fuck it all up because he can't be bothered to remove an employee from the room for disciplinary/HR issues.
-Forget to change the engine oil and transmission fluid in his car for three years, but expect me and Mom to shell out eight thousand dollars over a year to replace said engine and transmission in a car that is currently worth one thousand dollars.
-Have his mother pass and leave him a few bucks and spend two grand on a motorcycle that he'll never ride again after last Autumn.
-Fuck up his child support while moving from Nevada to Texas, fail to contact a lawyer, have ex-wife garnish wages and then Nevada Law states that the ex can raid Mom's bank account for ten grand.
-Have a heart attack and then blame 'job stress' while collecting no unemployment or disability because he can't be bothered to fill out the paperwork. For two fucking years.
I know it's silly to some, but I have stated before that every person has a metaphysical and tied-to-the-universe-destiny. Sometimes, good people will do right and they can be held up to a shining example of who and what a good person can be. Other times, bad people can be pointed to as an example of what not to be. Everybody has a destiny, real or perceived.
This motherfucker just made my shit list in new and improved ways.
I will never be this person.
I will never ask for more than I can give.
I will never expect someone to take care of me if I can't take care of myself.
Fuck.
You.
David.
Just ...
Just nothing but support and kind words and letting me know that my anger was valid but not to let it consume me; he's really become an incredible person with an amazing amount of physical and moral resilience.
Dangit.
Now I have to talk to Pastor Cheryl at our Presbyterian Church.
That woman always knows how to make me cry.
In unrelated news, my sister "Gwen" called the house, completely hysterical at 3:42 am because "Gwen" got into a massive fight with a friend, "Maris," who was supposed to be her roommate next year. "Maris" told "Gwen" that "Maris"s boyfriend hit her/tried to take "Maris"s clothes off. "Gwen" wanted to tell somebody/do something about it, and was probably especially adamant about it because of the stuff that happened with our dad several months ago.
"Maris" told her not to. "Gwen" told "Maris" not to tell her something like that unless she wanted "Gwen" to do something about it. "Maris" brought it up again, so "Gwen" and several other friends (all of whom had been drinking) decided that it would be a great idea to wake "Maris"s boyfriend up and confront him about this. The boyfriend claimed the incident never happened, so they then went and woke up "Maris." "Maris" flips out at "Gwen," who becomes hysterical to the point where "Gwen"s two other friends are afraid to leave "Gwen" alone, and make her call us at home.
Being a night owl, I was just getting ready to go to bed when "Gwen" called the house, crying so hard she couldn't talk. At first, I thought she'd been attacked or something, then she started saying things like how she'd been really, really sad about everything since the stuff with Dad happened and she didn't see the point of anything anymore. So I have a mini-panic attack because I think my little sister's about to hurt herself, rush upstairs, and wake up my mom.
Mom calmed "Gwen" down, told "Gwen" she wasn't allowed to live with "Maris" next year and pulled the "I control all your money" card so there's nothing "Maris" can do to force "Gwen" into living with her. Gwen seems to be a little better, and has been sending my mom screenshots of "Maris" harassing her via text message so Mom's got a better idea of what's been going on.
BUT the text message screen shots revealed that "Gwen" may actually be suicidal, although she has been insisting that it's "just when she gets really sad/upset" and they're just thoughts- there isn't intent behind them. Either way, I'm pretty sure that is really fucking bad. "Gwen" and I don't get along... at all. But she didn't deserve to be treated that way by "Maris." And I don't want her to feel so sad she wants to die.
And to top it off, Mom's now really, really hesitant to do something about my dad being an abusive asshole, because if she does something and he cuts off her access to their money, she won't be able to get "Gwen" psychological help. Because "Dad" firmly believes that all mental problems can be solved if you just make yourself stop being sad and nervous, so he won't pay for anything.
Common law states with no regard of financial impact on the difference of income between municipalities, that's how.
Sounds like you could use yourself a dog
Seriously though, I can't even imagine having to deal with something/someone like this. Good on you for not murdering him already.
Stepfather has cancer in a bad, bad way.
It's called multiple myeloma and it is probably the death knell for him.
Diagnosis:
-Kidney tumor
-Thyroid tumor
-Spinal tumor that has metastisized through the spinal column and into the spinal cord
-Oncologist stopped counting occlusions and lesions in his entire skeleton when he reached seventy-five of them, ranging from pinhole-sized to pencil-sized, all major bones, quite a few in his skull
Prognosis:
-Less than 50% chance of survival from aggressive chemo and radiation therapy, possible two years of life expectancy with almost certain paraplegia, constant need for care, catheter, colostomy bag, the whole works
-If there is no response from chemo and radiation therapy, he could live in agony for up to two months, but it's not likely
-Aggressive chemo and radiation therapy are financially non-viable unless Ben Taub or LBJ Hospitals accept him for 'indigent care' because he has no insurance
-Financial Aid requires Mom to cut back to twenty hours a week ... which means we lose the house, the very thing I've been fighting and working for over the last four-and-a-half years
-Just had to turn down the interview that the most-excellent @chromdom tried to hook me up with, not because I can't drop everything, but because it takes a monumental shitstain to abandon family at this moment and I need to be able to look at myself in the mirror
"But DeeDubs! Couldn't this have gone another way?"
Yes. Yes, it could have.
Despite the protestations of the oncologist and the radiologist, my mother gently and firmly asked whether or not this could have been avoided or averted or properly managed three months ago when Step-Dick started talking about a backache.
"Ma'am, if he had come to us a month ago, it would have been a good five years of hard work, but pain-free. If he had come to us two months ago before self-diagnosing with pills and booze, he could have had ten years."
"What about three months ago?"
"He would have been able to see his great-grandchildren and change their diapers."
Congratulations, David, because this is the exact kick-in-the-ass I needed to finally drop my smokes in the trash.
Well fucking done.
(I'm probably going to flip out in a day or two, so pray for my co-workers' safety.)
Unless you are actively trying to drive me crazy.
If that is the case, well done, you are good at it.
Satans..... hints.....
Satans..... hints.....
Remember when you asked me at South PAX if I'm ever going to get a break?
The answer is still, 'No.'
But I will amend that by saying that this is no longer a 'good year.'