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Single mom of three beautiful kids. Two are teenagers. One is driving.
Chaos explained?
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Monday, September 19, 2011
Recently, I was accused of making myself a victim. For me, only calling me a liar will get you more hatred. I spent last evening trying to decide if I ever wanted to come online again. Let alone communicate with people who really know nothing about me, yet feel they can judge me. I decided no. I don’t want to associate with those people, but I also don’t want to lose those who I consider my friends. So I’m going to explain why there are a few things that if you ever say to me or accuse me of, it’s for the best for you to never speak to me again afterwards.
The cycle of abuse can be a damn near impossible thing to break free of. People work for years to break the triggers and attachments that lead them back to an abusive relationship.
For many it starts when they are children. In my case, my mother remarried when I was 5. He adopted me when I was 7. When I was 9 my mother found out she could not have any more children. It was within days of that Doctor’s appointment that he hit me the first time. That started a childhood of living in my own personal house of horrors.
No, I wasn’t locked in a cage or the basement. I wasn’t starved or hidden away from society. I was never sexually abused. For a lot of people, to them, that means I just had strict parents. To them I say, fuck you.
My father turned me into his personal anger receptacle. I was told daily how stupid I was, how clumsy, how fat, everything I said was a lie, I was a lying fat piece of shit. It is amazing to me now to remember some of the things he said to me and I wonder sometimes just how much my mind has let me or made me forget. If he came home mad, I hid because I knew the first little thing I did meant I would get smacked into next week. Once, when I was about 12, I remember I didn’t vacuum the floor correctly. In my house you could never have vacuum lines in the carpet. The carpet had to look perfectly fluffed. It would take me sometimes hours to get the damn floor the way he liked it because his theory was if once small space was wrong, you re-did the entire thing. I once vacuumed the entire house 17 times before he accepted the job. The same went for dusting. He found a space I had missed on a shelf once and made me re-dust the entire house 3 times to make sure I knew how to do the job right. I digress.
Anyway, I was about 12 when the slaps and spankings became punches. Once I came home late from school. Not thru any fault of my own, the bus was late. I walked in the house and Dad was already home. He immediately started screaming at me because he didn’t believe the bus was late. I begged him to call another kid’s mom who rode the same bus. He didn’t. I hurried to get my chores done so I could get my homework done. When I was unloading the dishwasher the damn dog jumped up on the open door. I had my back turned putting glasses on the shelf so I didn’t see her do it. He started screaming at me accusing me of getting the stupid dog to jump up on the door and that when the dishwasher broke he was going to take it out of me. I argued. I couldn’t help myself. Mom walked in the door to find me being held by my throat in the air, bleeding and crying and choking.
That was my life until I turned 17 and emancipated myself and went to live with one of my older brothers. I suspected Dad was abusing Mom in my absence but she denied it to the day she died.
I saw him hit her once years later and that was the night he went to jail. He had hit me so hard my left eye socket was shattered. I had 5 different surgeries to fix the damage to my face. That’s why, when you se pictures of me, the left side looks 10 years younger. You can’t fix anything that broken without getting a bonus face lift. And again I digress as this happened when I was full grown with the kids.
My first husband thought he was going to take up where my Dad left off. He learned quickly though, I guess getting stabbed sends a serious message. He tried for another year and I fought him like a cat. Then I found out I was pregnant. When I was almost 6 months pregnant, he came home, convinced it wasn’t his child. He beat the living fuck out of me. That was the last time he did, after losing the baby, I went back to Mom and Dad’s from the hospital. I still have a few memory issues because of the head trauma. They also told me I would never have kids, that he had done too much damage to my uterus.
Well, we discovered the hard way that I could indeed have kids when I wound up pregnant with my oldest. Their Dad and I got married. We did our thing. We had three beautiful children together and if nothing else, they are worth every second of living with their Dad. He was always the “bad boy” and that was my problem. I was attracted to men the exact opposite of my father who was an Air Force Colonel. A fine upstanding member of the community don’t ya know. Anyway, the kid’s Dad was pretty much lazy. He couldn’t keep a job long enough to get health benefits. He managed to keep the same job long enough for each maternity leave, but that was it. I don’t think he was a year at any job the entire 17 years of our marriage. Well, except prison. He did that real well. He was just your typical stoner. He lived for getting high and fishing. I lived with it because even today, he was the love of my life. I supported us working sometime two, even three jobs.
When I was pregnant with my daughter, his sister introduced him to cocaine. Once he was spazzing for the powder, she introduced him to crack. She kept him high for a week. Immediate addiction. I didn’t even realize he was doing the shit until I came home from work one day (I walked the 4 blocks to work every day, the Doctor said it was the best exercise for me) and he had sold my car for fucking crack. I kicked his ass out. He claimed to get straight, I let him come home. About two weeks later I came home and he had cleaned the entire house out. He’d left our clothes on the floor, a few of the kid’s toys and some kitchen shit. Everything else of any value was gone. That kept him high for 6 weeks and I didn’t see or hear from him the entire time. He came home, DTing like a mofo and begging me to take him back. I was pregnant with our third child. They had just put me on mandatory bed rest the day before. I let him come home, what else could I do?
Our daughter was born with serious complications (to me not her) and when I came home with her, he left. About an hour after he left I hemorrhaged. JW was 5. He tried to call his Dad, then he called my mother and then he called 911. My mom came and picked up the boys right when the ambulance came to take me and the baby back to the hospital. Their Dad showed up the next afternoon. He stayed by my bedside every waking second. It’s amazing what guilt will do for you. When they let me go home, he worked really hard to go clean. He made it until December 12th 1999. That night he went on a binge with his sister. See she didn’t like getting high alone, so she would give the shit to John until the urge was uncontrollable. He never came home that night. His sister, when I confronted her the next day, went insane and she tried to kill me. I left him that day and we never lived together again.
I had to move back in with Mom and Dad. It was a nightmare. Dad was drinking so much he was rarely more than a raging lunatic when he was home. Mom drank until she passed out. In October of 2003 the big fight occurred, the kids went to my sister’s, Dad went to jail, I went to the hospital and Mom bailed Dad out of jail.
When I got out of the hospital after the first two surgeries, we went to a domestic violence shelter. That was the turning point in my life. I learned about a lot of things that I had been raised to keep quiet about. I learned that my father’s “strict parenting” was abuse. That my mother’s denial was her reaction to the same abuse. I also learned that I could do it on my own. That I was perfectly capable of raising my children without their father or any man. Yes, I had help from the government, but I learned that contrary to how I had been raised, there was no shame in that.
That was 8 years ago. It’s taken me this long to have the confidence and self respect that I have today. I have no money. If you sold everything I owned you might get 5 grand. I do however have things that to me are a lot more important. My word, my honor, my pride. Aside from my children, the best way to hurt or anger me is to accuse me of being a liar, of being stupid, of being less than I have worked for years to be. So saying that, I stand proud and I stand strong because contrary to what you may try to do to me, I am nobody’s fucking victim. Anyone who thinks or says otherwise, well, for me it just means you are a voice I ignore and a person I despise with every fiber of my being.
I’m not sharing this because I want anyone’s sympathy. Do not feel sorry for me. I’m sharing because while my reaction to certain things I know can seem unreasonable, there are very serious reasonings behind it.
Posted at 09:59 am by KharaSiochain
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Monday, May 09, 2011
No one is there to hear.....
The descent into madness isn’t actually as scary as most people make it out to be. In fact, the fear comes more at the end when you realize you’ve completely lost your mind, more so that during the process of losing it.
I have these moments quite frequently. My solution, plow thru it and get on with my life. This has always been fairly simple in the past. I’ve had friends and family to help me thru it and have always emerged, if slightly worse for wear, at least whole.
Recently I’ve realized that with the death of my parents, I lost my biggest support. I thought I had friends to count on, but I’ve apparently run them off one by one. My sisters, while completely sympathetic all have their own lives and bullshit to deal with, so I rarely, if ever, involve them in my shit.
So now I come to a point in my life where I really need to have someone out there to talk to, to count on and I find that I have no one.
I’m learning that I really can’t be mad, it’s my own fault. I’m not a nice person. I’m rude, judgmental, and mouthy. I apparently treat people terribly, though to be truthful on that one, I didn’t realize I was or had done so.
I’ve been told that I’m an attention whore, constantly trying to turn everyone’s attention towards me and my petty little problems. Which has left me rather lost and confused because I truly have never tried to be that way. They say what annoys us most in others is what we are, in fact, guilty of ourselves. So maybe I am a complete drama llama. I don’t know. I never meant to be.
Now the funny thing is I don’t talk to people. I’ve gotten quite used to having no friends and I never counted on the ones who claimed to be my friends. It’s easier when they let you down that way. The only people I have any contact with anymore are online. I have no one locally who I am friends with, at least anymore. I’m still not sure what I did to break those friendships, just that I don’t feel I should have to fight for something when I don’t know what the problem is to begin with. The few people at work who I thought were my friends, well, I work in an office that people would just as soon stab you in the back as not. They relish in throwing people under the bus. So when You try to avoid all the bullshit, you get slammed anyway, just because.
I know I have something wrong with me. I’m not sure if it’s truly mental or maybe just my emotions trying to take over control, because as terrible as I am, it’s only those terrible emotions that I allow anyone to see. All I want to do is cry and I never ever cry. But I’ve given up. If the kids were all in college, I would give up completely, but I promised myself I would see them all in college, so I will.
The problem is I’m to the point of desperation. I really need someone to count on, someone to talk to and I’ve alienated everyone in my life so that when it’s time for me to be the one asking for help, no one is there to hear.
Posted at 10:34 am by KharaSiochain
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Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Have you ever wanted to just reach thru the monitor and grab someone by the throat and bash their head against their keyboard? Have you read someone’s response to something you’ve written and the first thought that goes thru your mind is “What a fucking asshole”. Or, and this is my personal favorite, have you ever been involved on a board that has two or three drama llama’s who continually turn half of the threads into being about them?
What do you do? Do you just go on and ignore all of what annoys you? Do you find yourself another internet home? Or do you call them out on their bullshit?
I ignore it. I just slowly stop posting at those places and eventually move on. I may not be as happy where I end up, or like the people as much, but for me it’s easier to ignore the hurt feelings and snide remarks until I can’t. Then I just leave. Oh I may pop back on occasion to see what is going on, and I do keep in contact with people from boards I have left because of my spinelessness, but for the most part, I am not a confrontational.
This goes back to my childhood. Young ladies do not draw attention to themselves. Children should be seen and not heard. Then as an adult, living in multiple domestic violence shelters it is pounded into your brain. Do not draw attention to yourself. Keep in the background. Do not make waves, do not cause any problems. Basically eat this shit and keep fucking quiet about it.
As a general rule, this servitude attitude of mine does not bother me all that much. It does however, drive my children up the wall. Because of that I’ve been working on standing up for myself and making myself heard. I’m not doing a real good job of it.
I think this is why I am so angry all of the time. And I do mean all of the time. I can’t remember a time in the last 8 years that I’ve not been madder than hell. I’m sure it goes back much farther than that, but that’s around the time I remember the incident that started it all. I was in Walhell with the kids. We were looking for new pool toys for the boys. The kid’s dad was incarcerated at the time and had been for well over a year. Anyway, this woman comes up to me and in front of my kids tells me in great detail how she had been sleeping with my husband for the 6 months prior to his going to jail. Then she went on to tell me that she needed to let him know that she had tested positive for HIV. I’m sure there was a lot more she said, I have never been able to recall anything she may or may not have said beyond testing positive for HIV. I just stood there. Even after she walked away, I just stood there.
Yesterday I realized that I’ve been just standing there ever since, in fact, I was standing there all along. I think what scares me more now is that I’m still standing there. I suppose one could take it as a positive that at least I’m still standing period. There are thousands of self help books, videos, tapes and programs that would raise me up as a shining example of how to survive. My problem with that is I was “just surviving” all along. I want to do more than “just survive.” I want to live and to enjoy it. I’m not even saying I don’t want to be mad anymore, to be honest I don’t know that I would know how to act without the rage, but I really want to know, want to try to just for a while, to be happy. Because I haven’t been in years.
Posted at 11:26 am by KharaSiochain
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Monday, April 25, 2011
Don’t sweat the little things. Just let it roll off your back. Don’t let it get to you. Don’t stress it. Don’t worry about it. Forget about it. How many times have you heard that in your life?
It’s funny how life goes isn’t it? I think at the heart of the matter we are all looking for that one person or persons to share ourselves with. Not always our most intimate details, just friends to hang with, share the ups and downs and such the day to day stuff.
A lot of times people think they have found something like that on this internet forum or that one. Everyone is always there with the advice or the I’m so sorry or happy or whatever the required emotion is. But you know what? When push comes to shove and the really truly serious shit hits the fan, nobody gives a flying fuck. And you learn at that time who your real friends actually are.
And you want a little piece of advice? It’s really quite rare that you find them on the internet. One out of thousands maybe and that is if you are truly lucky.
I realized this today when I went on to what I have considered my “internet home” for damn near four years now. Playing catch up from the holiday weekend to see what everyone had been up too. As I was reading thru who got laid and who did this and who did that I noticed something. Even though parts of my city were completely devastated by tornados this weekend added to the fact that no one knows where I live in that city, there was not a single word of care or concern if I was alive or dead. It’s not like anyone with a TV, radio or internet was not aware of the devastation, it was all over the news nationwide, hell I even had a facebook message from a friend in Australia who had seen it on the national news. So this got me to thinking, why in the world do I associate, even online, with people who don’t give a shit one way or the other if I’m alive or dead. And you know what the answer is? I don’t any longer.
It’s not like I have any right to be angry, and in truth I’m not. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt, but I’m not mad. I mean it’s not like I’ve made any effort or shown any concern myself for anyone else right? I’m caustic and sarcastic and in truth quite the bitch. So I reckon it’s only the response I deserve right? I’ve never bothered to try and make anyone feel better when they’ve posted a problem, never shown any concern for those who are in the wake or aftermath of the weather. So how can I possibly think I have any right to be upset? Saddest part is I really can’t quite figure out why I am.
Thank you Roger, you were the only person outside my family who even bothered to check on me and the kids. Even though you were going thru your own personal hell at the time. Your friendship means a lot more to me than you will ever realize! You are truly one of a kind and for that I will ever be grateful!!! Thank you!
Sometimes you need to know that somebody gives a fuck. Because living with the knowledge that no one does really sucks.
Posted at 10:36 am by KharaSiochain
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Wednesday, October 13, 2010
If it weren't for bad luck...
When I was a child, my grandfather loved watching Hee Haw. In truth when you only have 3 channels, it was the highlight of Saturday evening. I remember being a kid and singing this at the top of my lungs...
Gloom, despair, and agony on me
Deep, dark depression, excessive misery
If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all
Gloom, despair, and agony on me
Which, if any of y'all are old enough to remember was sung by a bunch of guys sitting around on a porch and the middle verse would be a joke.
Anyway..... this song has been running through my brain since Dad died. I swear I think the man left a curse on the house or something, I don't know. But since he died, for every single good thing that has happened, something terrible has completely wiped it out.
We had another accident last night. Even if the car isn't totalled, by the time I get paid again, at $195 for the tow and $25 a day, I can't afford to get it back and still pay those pesky bills like electric and such.
When my oldest got his license, my insurance went up so much I dropped the full coverage I have always had and went with the basic. So while the other person's car is paid for, yeah, you see where this is going right?
So I am having one of the bad days of chaos. One of those days it's a good thing the guns are gone and even better I'm never alone for more than 5 minutes.
I'm just so tired.
Posted at 11:34 am by KharaSiochain
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Monday, August 30, 2010
Slacking but not from being lazy...
Damn I have been slacking. However, do not for one second think that the chaos has been taking a break. I've just been trying to fight my way to the surface after this latest tidal wave if insanity.
First off, thank god, Duston is back in form and is on the field making me cringe with every hit just like he should be. All three are in school and the grocery bill has dropped so dramatically that you would think I would have extra money to spend. NOT!!
A little history. I'm married to a complete whoremonger asshole. Well that's just my current term of endearment. At one time the State of Florida called him a murdering bastard and had his ass on death row. Then the court of appeals reviewed everything and since my testimony had been thrown out, they overturned his conviction and set him free….. wooohoooo! Free to threaten me and the kids. Free to move to California and take up with the "new Michelle" and start a family with her and completely ignoring the three kids he already had…
For you younger ones out there a piece of advice. NEVER EVER EVER EVER get someone's name tattooed on your body unless it is a parent or sibling and even then think hard. See my husband has my name in 4 different very visible places on his body. Makes it really hard to date I am sure. So now he is dating the 'new Michelle' as we call her.
I have been begging him to divorce me forever now. He keeps telling me it is in the works. Nothing happens. In the almost 5 years since he has been out he has sent the boys each 2 pair of shoes and a pair of cleats. He has sent Joy one pair of shoes. Now mind you, those were the first things he ever bought the younger two as I left when my Joy was 6 months old. She's 11 now.
So we started calling him back in June to work up to the kids getting shoes for school. At that time he said give him a couple of weeks. Well we keep getting closer to the start of school and he pulls his I'm not answering my phone bullshit. That it his m.o. he will just ignore the calls and texts until he decides the kids have forgotten. Problem is he is too stupid to realize the kids never forget.
So JW texts him and goes so off on him that he texts me, threatens to come here to St. Louis and take the kids. BA HA HA HA HA HA. In any event, he did not send me the money he promised. As a result, I had to get a fucking title loan on the fucking car to get shoes and uniforms for the kids. UGH!!
I'm already working 2 jobs and now I'm looking for a 3rd. How the hell did I end up here? I used to have a life. It wasn't much of one, but I had one. It's times like this, I so miss my mom.
Posted at 09:57 am by KharaSiochain
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Tuesday, August 24, 2010
4th of July - Revisited....
4th of July..... continued..... I went to court today, praying they would let me make payments on all of the tickets I had been issued over the whole 4th BS.
I WON!! The judge threw out all of the charges AND told the officer who was such an ass that it was disgraceful the way he handled the situation.
WOOHOO!!!
So this is a day that I get the bear!!!
Posted at 09:55 am by KharaSiochain
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Friday, July 16, 2010
When the Chaos makes you look like an idiot....
I debated writing about this because well, truthfully I am so damned embarrased about it.
I bought a car. An '01 Taurus. It was necessary as my mom's Buick that I have been driving for 4 years now has been in terrible shape for a year now. There is only so much you can repair when it's truly fucked.
So, living where I live, the first purchase after the car was a club. It's not an option, you really need one in this city. So I go to the AutoZone and pick me out a new club. This was last Friday. Put it under my seat for that evening and drove the heck out of the car to try and get Duston's crap for camp. He's gone for a month, that's a lot of drawers and socks and shit.
So we get home that night and JW shows me how to put the new club on (he was driving and it makes him feel all guy when he knows how to do stuff). He handed me the keys which I put on my keychain while sitting in the car.
Cut to next morning, up at the buttcrack of dawn to take Duston to football camp (day camp no biggie except it's 6:30 am on a fucking Saturday) but before we get in the car, the kid's mom from down the street said she would drive them there if I would pick up. AWESOME!!! Went back to sleep for a couple of hours.
Went to leave to pick up the boys. Got in the car, no keys for the stick. Checked my purse, checked the car, the house, the couches, chairs, vents, fridge and freezer, washer and dryer, the ground for almost the entire damned block, no fucking keys. So we try to destroy the club lock. Screwdriver and hammer looked like it was going to work before the screwdriver broke. I tried drilling it but I have a cheapass drill and all it did was spin. I had to have a locksmith come out and drill the damned club.
So, I pulled the spark plug wires off the damn Buick and used that club for the Taurus.
Still have not found those damned keys!
Posted at 01:15 pm by KharaSiochain
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Tuesday, July 06, 2010
You would think I would learn. I mean let's be honest, it's not like I shouldn't expect it right?
So, on the 4th I decided, fuck all my ghetto ass neighbors, I'm going to have friends over, we're gonna BBQ, drink lots of beer and have a good day! It's the thought that counts right?
The day started innocently enough. I was in the kitchen putting kabobs together when my youngest son comes running in to tell us the broken down rotted chunk of fence across the street is on fire. He grabs a bucket, his brother grabs another bucket and they rush out to the water spigot. Now while they are on the back side of the fence, the fucking kids next door (who started the fire BTW) are shooting the kids and the fence with bottle rockets from their window. So as soon as one fire gets put out another starts. My kids finally gave up when the whole thing went WHOOSH! Cops show up, fire department shows up. It's all just a little excitement to start the day off right?
ding dong
ME - Yes? (to cops at the door)
Cops - Ma'am we have witnesses who say your daughter (who was standing beside me) started the fire.
ME - I'm sorry that is impossible, she has been up to her elbows in kabobs with me all morning, she hasn't been outside at all.
Cops - Ma'am, I'm sure you would like to believe that, but we have witnesses who say otherwise.
ME - Well, your witnesses are lying, my daughter has not been outside all morning.
Cops - Well ma'am we are going to have to write you a ticket for the fire.
ME - WHAT THE FUCK are you talking about. How can you write me a ticket? I didn't have anything to do with the fire, neither did my kids.
Cops - Ma'am our witnesses say otherwise. They say your daughter was outside shooting bottle rockets with a young black boy.
ME - Officer, again, your witnesses ARE LYING.
In the process of being written a ticket for the fire (I was so mad I was shaking) another officer (who had been talking to the window bottle rocket shooters) came over right as the asshole was handing me the $150.00 ticket and said.... "It wasn't the daughter, it was the redheaded son"
ME - Well then you are as screwed as you were before because my oldest son has not been outside at all except when he tried to put the fire out and those boys next door were shooting bottle rockets at him from their window. Just like they did when they started the ORIGINAL fire.
Cops - Ma'am blaming other children does not remove the responsibility from you.
ME - What the hell does that mean? I am telling you my children had nothing to do with this and I am not going to put up with this bullshit. Those kids who have been giving you their eyewitness account are lying through their teeth.
Cops - Ma'am why don't we add a littering charge to that ticket as well?
ME - Are you fucking kidding me?
Cops - Have a safe 4th - as he hands me a fucking $250.00 ticket for littering.
$400.00 in tickets for a fire my kids not only didn't start but tried to put out and for littering firework remains all over the street when my kids hadn't even been home on Friday OR Saturday.
So I spent the day taking pictures of the kids shooting shit our their windows, the entire street and the mess. Of every damn kid on the block shooting fireworks. I'm going to fight this bullshit.
But..... don't think for an instant it's over.......
So I'm out back with the BBQ smoking my pork steaks and kabobs when the kid from upstairs walks out the back door and proceeds to pack off on the asshole kid next door. Mom of asshole kid next door does nothing to stop the fight. Says they are boys and this has been a long time coming. Problem is kid from upstairs isn't the sharpest tool in the shed and pretty much get's his ass beat. While this is happening, my friends are all freaked out. You just don't see alley fights in the burbs....
Kid from upstairs calmly walks away from the fight. Goes upstairs, gets a fucking gun and comes downstairs and goes over to asshole kid from next door and fires right over the top of his head three or four shots.
COMPLETE CHAOS ENSUES.....
Everyone goes crazy running for cover, someone grabs the kid from upstairs, gun disappears ( but not before I got a good look at it and saw it was not one of mine that was stolen) and the lady next door calls the cops.
My friends all leave. Well, all but one, she stayed with me the whole time.
Cops - Ma'am you were outside here when the fight broke out?
ME - What fight?
Cops - Ma'am the fight between the boy from your building and that boy (points to asshole kid).
ME - Officer I don't know what you are talking about.
Cops - (To my friend) Ma'am were you outside when the fight broke out?
My Friend - What fight?
At this point the bitch from next door is cursing me for everything but being a white woman. I just smiled.
The cops were all like Ma'am why are you lying to us? I just looked at them and smiled sweetly. I said very calmly and very loudly so every ghetto motherfucker heard me "Officer, I'm just like everyone else on this block when a crime occurs, I didn't see anything. Isn't it a good thing no one was hurt?"
So after the cops leave, the bitch from next door (asshole kid's mother) comes over to me and starts going off on me. I just looked at her and said "I am as good a neighbor to you as you are too me. I mean after all, when my house was robbed three fucking times in broad daylight and they got into my place 2 feet from your window which is ALWAYS open, you didn't see anything. So when shit happens to you, why should I see anything?"
I really thought she was going to hit me. She really thought she was going to hit me. She managed to stop herself and walk away.
And this was all before the real fireworks..... 
Just another day...
Posted at 12:08 pm by KharaSiochain
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Tuesday, June 22, 2010
I had to give this one it's own space.
Now I know I've mentioned the two break-ins to my house. The first was while I was in Florida and then they broke in again right after we got home. It was the same cop who came to my accident along with the cop from the second robbery who accused me of associating with the "criminal element".
They got me again on Monday and this time they got everything. I mean everything of any monetary or sentimental value.
It is probably best they got the guns last time because I am up for shooting someone.
My favorite part of this is when the cop from the second robbery asked where my boyfriend worked. Then right on the ass end of that question he asked if this boyfriend was black. I actually looked around to see who he was talking to. I was like I don't have a boyfriend at all. And so the cop asks why I'm living where I'm living then. I have mentioned I'm in the inner city of St. Louis right? So they leave, the fingerprint people come and just make a fucking mess. Didn't even check outside where the windows were pushed up. And I got the usual "We'll be in touch". I mentioned that that would be nice since I hadn't heard a word from anyone yet on the FIRST TWO robberies.
So while I was hoping to wait until the kids were out of school before I moved, it doesn't look like that will be an option for me.
I love my life!
Posted at 12:06 pm by KharaSiochain
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