This is my frustration about workplace social constructs and forced social interactions with coworkers….


As you all know, dear readers, occasionally social constructs throw me for a loop. Now, I will admit that I am already in my yearly fuckitall slump which really doesn’t help matters much. And truthfully, no one can win when I am in this mood. It’s been steadily going downhill at my job. First there was a huge change in my actual position. I’ve somewhat recovered from that. Then there is the general August through October malaise that does its bloody best to kill me and usually just incapacitates me for huge blocks of endless time. I hate this. I really do. But I haven’t found a more reasonable way to deal with it.

So, we are somewhat recovered from my job being realigned. But now there is lots of complaining and stressing from my coworkers about this restructure. One co worker has to pretend to be more interested in people. One co worker has to figure out how not to be overwhelmed. The other co worker….well, frankly she just needs to figure out what to do about her husband. I guess I feel penalized. I don’t talk to them for hours everyday, waste an hour eating lunch and talking. And truthfully, they could save an hour every week by simply not trying to save my soul or trying to convince me to go to church. Seriously, have they not met the soulless one that I am? I must not be conveying that well enough. Not that I need to go to church. They spend an hour every morning recreating the sermons from 2 different churches. So that’s enough God for me, thanks.

I don’t understand how these double standards work in my office. I try desperately to get it, but it’s above my pay grade, I guess. The first double standard seems to be that I am never allowed to question anything that they do. However, OfficeBully seems compelled to ask me about everything that is different from how she would do it. Now, if I were to go to her and question how she completed a task, I would be met with THAT tone. You know the one. The one that says “you are the stupidest person I ever met and I can’t believe you have the balls to question me.” And I want to come back with….

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So, yes this is my day. Every day.

Now, Overwhelmed Coworker is also the supervisor. So, you absolutely cannot complain about OfficeBully and CluelessWife because they are all friends. And OverwhelmedSupervisor cannot do conflict. AT ALL. So she can’t tell her friends that there is a problem with their behaviour because not only does she not see it, but she also can’t deal with the fall out. So I sit and spin my wheels. Trying to avoid all of them.

But today I was accused of saying something that was just blunt truth but it was called something else and  a weird comment from OfficeBully last week came to the top of my brain and I went….oh! But to OverwhelmedSupervisor, I just shrugged it off and said “whatever”. Because suddenly it all seemed to just make sense. And this is not my first rodeo with office social constructs. I’m learning how to do them a little. I feel like the writing is quickly appearing on the wall for this job. Nothing fits me anymore. And with no money to take time off….sigh.

So last week what set me off is now being referred to in polite company as “The Chick-fil-a incident”. See we have to go to a different town an hour drive away for staff meetings. We always stop for lunch on these days. I always get told that I need to pick because I’m so picky. I get tired of hearing that shit. So that day I just said…do whatever, I’m not eating. They decided on Chick-fil-a. I do not like Chick-fil-a and I wasn’t particularly hungry anyway. So I got a cherry coke and paid attention to my phone while they talked and ate. Fine. A few hours after we arrived back and our home office, I went and got myself something to eat. You should have heard the comments. “Why did you go get food? We just ate.” “No, you ate, I did not.” OfficeBully, thinking she is in rare form “you chose not to eat, not our problem.” So, with this comment, I am thinking, so you already decided that whether or not I ate was not on your radar. And yet, you are now hassling me about it. What. The. Actual. Fuck. guys. How do you even cope with that fucked up logic? Because basically, you are adult enough to choose not to eat when we eat, but not adult enough to go get something later. How is this any of OfficeBully’s business?

And I guess the second thing that got on my nerves was listening to the Liverpool game midweek. I listen on a radio app. Most people know that I rarely miss a chance to at least hear my lads play if I can’t watch. They use radio apps to listen to music, so why does it matter that I choose to listen to a game. There’s that word again. Choose. So, I cursed when they missed a goal. The comment was made “Just ignore her, she’s listening to a game instead of working like she’s supposed to.” Now, I can work and listen to a game just like they can work and listen to music.

So again with the double standards. I know that my nerves are on top of my skin and that I am just more annoyed than usual with everyone and everything. But I am just completely intolerant at this stage in the game. So dear readers, do I walk away like nothing happened? Or should it look more like this?

houses on fire

Keep Calm and Beat the Hell Out of Them With Your Big Stick


Well, readers, I know you are dying to know the fine details of the last of the house saga. And I REALLY want to tell you all about it. However, it’s not over yet. There are no clear timelines for it to be over and Bright and Shiny Lawyer avoids all mention of putting an expiration date on just how the fuck long is this stupid shit going to take? The house is paid off. The Bank of Asshatery received the money. The funds are gone from my bank account. They have sent the lien release and the mortgage pay off release. And yet, I still do not own my husband’s house. And remember that $1500 in taxes and house insurance that I paid into a no balance escrow account? I get to do that again, except to the tune of $2000 to the county assessor and the insurance company because someone has decided at the B of A that I actually paid them back for something that they already paid that they didn’t. Where the hell that is coming from I have no fucking idea. Oops, sorry, the money tree that grows out of my ass sometimes just sprouted a new branch and it poked me.

As most of you are familiar, I am once again drowning in the eddies of the water that has filled the 7 concentric rings of Dante’s hell right here in little ole Dipshitville, Indiana. I thought I was having bright spots. I took Wee Geek to see the Damned in Indy and we met with Captain Sensible. Talked with him for a bit and got pictures and autographs. Can I just say how utterly lovely he is as a person and human in general? I had made these little dolls of him and Dave Vanian. Aren’t they too fucking adorable for words? He is definitely the personality of the group. I fell hopelessly in love with him. Even though he’s a Crystal Palace fan. Poor man.

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Wee Geek had an awesome time. I made the decision to do the meet and greet in Detroit on Saturday and my word was I disappointed. Supposedly the band moved the meet and greet up to 430 instead of 6. No one showed according to staff. They claimed the band promised to do meet and greet afterward. Which was fine. This did not happen.  I spent 3 hours on the phone with Live Nation and was basically told too bad so sad. Not our problem. I talked with the manager of the venue and was told that I was completely wrong about the entire event. That they aren’t responsible for the band or the money or anything. They are just the venue. So I have given up all hope of being able to get anything to rectify the situation at all. And now I think Dave Vanian is a pompous asshat. Which is prolly the worst possible ending to this story.

In this era of excitement not to be blamed for anything, we no longer take responsibility. For. Anything. Never mind that we disappointed our fans or anything. Who the fuck cares? They are only the ones who put you there. I’m a little bitter after being passed around by lots of people who don’t want to take responsibility for anything in the universe.

The upside of the whole Detroit thing was that I got to spend the entire day with a girlfriend that I haven’t been able to see for a lot of years. It’s been so long that we didn’t even know when the last time was that we’d seen each other face to face. She’s having a crappy divorce. As if any of them are good. But hers is particularly awful.

In other news, I opted for leaving town for the market season this year and I’m going to a bigger market in another town. I hate to do this. Because I really want to support my little corner of hell that I have made home, but they have to support me. And that was pretty much the bottom line of all of it. It was the deciding factor. It’s hard to make a go off it in small business. Harder when you have a teeny little niche like I do. I keep kicking myself for not doing more over the winter. I should be more prepared. But I’m not and it is what it is. I have to live with it and do the best I can. This is what happens when you are trying to work a full time job and run your own business, too.

I also am trying to figure out where I am going to get the money to pay for traveling to bonus daughter’s wedding. I hope this market season is gang busters. Because it has to be. I am tired of feeling like I am stuck in some non-creative hole. I really want to make a good go of this and have it be something. So I just keep taking everything in stride. Doing as much as I can when I can and saying hail Mary’s that the rest will fall into place. I think it will. It just takes a little courage and a lot of perseverance. I’m excited to see where I can go with it. And I have a lot of support.

 

 

Fighting Bank of America or How to Become the Owner of Your Husband’s House


Dearest readers, here we are again. The drama with the Bank of Asshat-ery may almost be at a close. A quick catch up. When Fix-it-guy died August 24, 2015, we owed $4711.90 on our house. You will also remember that Incompetent Dumbass Lawyer told me not to make any  payments on the house. I dutifully did this, because he’s the expert, he should know the thing that I am supposed to do, right? Oh dear reader, you are obviously just as deluded as I am about experts. So Fast forward 19 months and a new Bright and Shiny Lawyer. We had our settlement conference with the Bank of Asshat-ery’s lawyer.

So, it must be a rule that you must send your most cunty lawyer to do a job. She is dumpy looking and self important. Actually looked as if she might have just rolled out of bed. She wasted 15 minutes complaining about having to drive an hour to my county because our county doesn’t allow these sort of things to happen over the phone. Once in a conference room she proceeds to hand me a Harry Potter novel of paperwork to “assume the mortgage”. Now, dear reader, we have made it abundantly clear that I have no intention in the universe of assuming the mortgage. I have wanted to pay it off since the beginning. That has always been the plan. To finish what Fix-it-guy started. And Bright and Shiny Lawyer told Cunty Faced Lawyer this. Cunty Faced Lawyer gave the longest most audible sigh and then asked me if I even had the money to pay it off. I damn sure do, bitch, let me write you a Nightmare Before Christmas check. What was that amount again?

Then I find out it’s a process. Bright and Shiny Lawyer encourages Cunty Faced Lawyer to call the bank for a payoff amount which is somewhere hovering between 2 times more than the original and 3 times more than the original. They think I should pay for their foreclosure attorney. And here’s another kicker, I get to pay for the imaginary escrow balance that consists of the taxes that aren’t due until April and the house insurance that isn’t due until August. So I’m fine. Let’s walk over to my bank and transfer the money since you only take certified funds. No, it’s a process, they will email the actual payoff amount on Monday. So Monday comes and so does an email from Bright and Shiny Lawyer, somehow the amount of the payoff has jumped almost $2000 dollars from the amount quoted on Friday. What the fuck changed? No one knows. But we are now very solidly closer to the 3 times amount than the 2 times amount.

On Wednesday I trudge down to the bank. My heart is breaking. I feel like I can’t breathe and I’m trapped in a cyclone of hell. I do meaningless things all morning because my brain needs some repetitive thing that I have to concentrate on slightly to feel calm. Nothing works. I am in tears. To the bank I go.

And the bank teller hassles me about my name on my account. This is a 20 minute process and I am barely hanging on with my fingernails to the edge of sanity that is suddenly asking me if I really care about hanging on to it. I do not. Finally they decide that this transaction can be made. Another 10 minutes to figure out the paperwork. And then some hassle over where the physical address is. For. An. Electronic. Transaction. I’m pretty sure that I don’t have to provide any other person/entity with their own address when completing a transaction. I asked the girl to please not fuck with me today and just do the damned transaction. My fingernails are slipping and I can no longer promise that I will remain calm for the ride we are on.

Finally the transaction is processed and I’m presented with a receipt. Oh joy. I bop to the post office to mail off complaint against Incompetent Dumbass Lawyer with the state and then on to Bright and Shiny Lawyer’s office to give him receipt of payoff.

I go home exhausted and in a flood of tears again. I do not real relieved to have this done. I feel apprehensive and awful. It feels like I’ve chipped off the last bit of Fix-it-guy. I feel like he will be gone and he is already starting to feel like less than a picture. The memories of his voice are gone and I can no longer imagine his gentle kisses or the way he held me. It is the last thing in my life with his name on it. It feels wrong and awful and horrible to change it. I know that I have to. But it feels bad. Everyone assures me that it was always my house too. But see, I never wanted to own a house. That was his dream. And I feel as if I am still living it. Without real purpose. Now that he’s gone. That dream was beautiful with him. Unpurposeful and surreal without him. I am starting to feel like an episode of “Legion”. Minus the Pink Floyd references.

Despite my exhaustion, I did not sleep a wink that night. I lay there in the bed staring at the ceiling. Flipping channels. Trying to figure out what happens next. Because there are still more bits of this to do. Just fragments of things to settle. I have no more energy for these fights. I am angry and don’t know who to be angry at. I can’t be pissed at Fix-It-Guy. He obviously never planned to die. So my anger get directed askew at  the Bank of Asshat-ery, Life in General, Incompetent Dumbass Lawyer and the Universe as a whole. I wish I had fireballs or some other cool super power to throw at all of these things. But, no. I do not.

Dear Reader, a cautionary tale is to be found in all of this. Do not choose Bank of America as your mortgage company. I don’t care how many sparkles they put on their unicorns. I don’t care what the incentives are. Stay the hell away from them. They are a bunch of insensitive greedy bastards.

No one has time for drama, especially not me!


Dear darling readers, it’s been a couple of weeks filled with crap and drama. The most annoying of which is Fixitguy’s family. His sister and father are such selfish, self-serving asshats that it literally defies my ability to process it. I became my brother-in-law’s guardian last year and Asshat father-in-law decided to fight me on it. On the grounds that I’m weird and different and I’m proud of it. Wow. He is ridiculous and I’m glad the judge had the good sense to shut him down.

Today it’s an entirely new drama. Because of IdiotLawyer’s advice my house is now in foreclosure and apparently a notice was in the paper. AFIL has nothing else to do but read the paper. I believe he’s one of their 25 subscribers. So he and SIL commiserate and SIL starts texting BonusDaughters1&2 to find out why I’m not taking care of Fixitguy’s business. They tell her it’s taken care of. Next thing I know she is texting another friend saying her dad is getting a lawyer to “take the house away”. I have no idea what he is thinking or how he thinks he can accomplish this. But I told SIL that both of them need to mind their own fucking business. She replies that it was in the paper and so it’s everyone’s business. I point out that she lives in New Mexico, so still not hers. I am just so exhausted of the take take take from this family. I am taking care of the brother/son that neither of them can be bothered with. AFIL calls FIL periodically to ask why there is no headstone on Fixitguy or his mother. I just feel like they should have called and asked if I needed help rather than commiserating with each other and stirring up shit. I mean, really. So now I just have this cartoon in my head of vultures in Christian suits banging each other over their asshat heads with bibles. AFIL is such a great Christian and knows the only true way to believe, but this is how he behaves toward his daughter in law who stepped in to help out with his insane child. Yep, dear readers, the insanity runs deep and hard in that family. It is enough to make me want to go live in a mildly furnished cave with cable and space for a craft business, so if you hear of anything, let me know.

Hypocrisy has never been on my list of things that I entertain easily and the hypocrisy that these two people represent makes me furious. The simple answer is that they do not have their own lives and must create drama in other people’s lives. It makes them feel important and accomplished. I normally just shake my head, but the stressors were great yesterday and my tolerance for them was non-existent. I am locked in an almost impossible situation and these two step right up as if on cue to add to the pile. The simple answer is for AFIL to write a check to help cover some of this stuff. But it’s WAY better to point out everyone’s fault in not taking care of these things and WAY easier than actually pretending he is a decent human being for five minutes. That is just too much to bear. I am glad that I have cut certain people out of my life since Fixitguy’s death.

Of course, our 15th anniversary would have been on Sunday the 5th. This fills me with overwhelming sadness. It is anniversary number 2. Which seems so crazy to me. Wee Geek and I were talking about missing him last night. It is just so odd to have this 6 foot 2 hole inside of me that only he can fill. I am forever asked about dating and my reply is always, “Boyfriend? God no. How do you take care of them? Do you have to feed them? Water them? Take them for walks? That sounds like way more responsibility than I am equipped to handle in my current state. Sorry. No.”

I am reading at a funeral today. My dear UFOconspiracybuddy asked me to read a poem at his mom’s funeral. So I’m off to do that today. Maybe some sort of clarity will magically jump into my head and make me feel more kindly toward the idiots in my life. I doubt it, but a girl can dream.

Godzilla! Tragic love story or lessons in the downfall of modern society!


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I know my faithful minions. It has been far too long since I have written. I have a lot to talk about. So strap in and sit down with a nice cup of something that you like to drink. I don’t care what. You’re going to need it.

I have a couple of soap boxes. As long time readers know, I occasionally address serious issues in this blog, and today I have several. Long time readers also know of the struggles that Wee Geek and I have been through in the last 22 years. I haven’t been blogging that long, but I have talked about a lot of the things that have contributed to us being who we are and where we are in life. Wee Geek is doing okay, by the way. He found a job. He’s now working at McDonald’s. He likes it for the most part, but it is the first of my soapboxes for the day, so fair warning.

Before I start, I want to remind you of the Americans with Disabilities Act. In part, the ADA prohibits discrimination against a person because of their disability. This applies especially to employment, transportation, etc. For our purposes and under the law, a disability is a physical or mental impairment that substantially limits one or more major life activities of a person OR a record of such an impairment, OR being regarded as having such an impairment. This basically means that if you live, work, and function as if you have a disability, then you have a disability. You also don’t have to disclose that you have a disability to anyone. However, an employer cannot be expected to make accommodations for you if you don’t disclose.

McDonald’s as some of you may be aware is a top employer of people with disabilities. Wee Geek has disclosed that he has a disability. Also for the record. I also want to preface the following rant with the fact that Wee Geek is doing better in this job than he has in any other job that he’s had in the last few years. This is partially due to the fact that although the job is stressful, it is not stress that he has to take home with him. This is a bonus plan for him. Now, Mr. Jethro Copeland, I want you to take special note of this blog as the franchise owner of the store that Wee Geek works in. I am calling you out as a representative of an employer who does work with people with disabilities.

Wee Geek has Asperger’s. Asperger’s is a kind of high functioning autism. Asperger’s is characterized in short by the lack of social functioning skills and sensory issues as well as high intelligence. Wee Geek is not retarded. One of your managers is quick to jump to this convenient slur whenever talking to him. I will point out that “retarded” is not considered appropriate language anywhere and it is certainly not appropriate in a workplace. It is unprofessional and ignorant. Wee Geek is highly intelligent. He cannot be considered retarded by any stretch of the imagination. I know that he sometimes needs things explained in a different way or even asked to do things in a short direction format, but that doesn’t make him retarded. It makes him in need of a reasonable accommodation. By law, your manager must do this. So, if he is doing something in a way that is not how someone else would do it, it does not make him stupid. I guarantee that whatever way he is doing this job is the most efficient way for him to do the job that he is assigned.

Autistic people are very good at repetitive tasks. This works well in your favour. Afterall, big business is all about mindless repetitive tasks that make a whole. Let’s not forget that the goal is to have a whole hamburger at the end of the task. It’s not rocket science. Wee Geek is perfectly capable of grilling them all day every day. However, when your manager yells at him and calls him retarded, it makes him much less efficient. This is not good for your business.

Another thing to understand about autistic people is that they seem rude when put into the context of normal social conventions. This does occasionally make Wee Geek look like an asshole. He is not a person who can sugar coat shit. He tells it like it is. I’m sorry if your manager is an idiot, but you can’t expect Wee Geek to not point this out when it happens. From what a gather, this is a trait that your manager also can’t help. They need to learn how to work together so that she is less idiotic when it comes to working with him. This will lessen his need to point out that she is obviously an idiot. The right way to work with him is to let him do his job and realize that he’s going to get it done in a way that is the most efficient for him. I point out again that this is not rocket science, it’s hamburger building. The wrong way to work with him is to yell at him, call him names, and to send him home when he points things out. He is blunt and he’s not going to lie to you.

This is the last part of my soap box. Your manager is not accomplishing anything by sending him home. Well, she is accomplishing lessening your scheduled workforce for the day and pissing Wee Geek off. Neither of these things, gets the job done. At least not efficiently. I don’t understand making him miss work because your manager doesn’t understand how to work with him. This behavior reinforces to him that she is an idiot who is disrespectful. It reinforces to me that you need to have someone come in and train your managers on how to work with people with disabilities. They obviously have no clue. I offer my services. I have been working with people with disabilities most of my life and I have trained people how to work with people on the autism spectrum for 15 years.

Okay, that’s my soap box about McDonald’s. I find it hard to believe in this day and age that people are ignorant of how to work with people with disabilities and especially autism. We are everywhere. Whether you know it or not, you prolly deal with someone on the autism spectrum at least once a day.

Next on my agenda is to talk about what’s been going on in the Land of the Not Quite Right. Spring has sprung and once more, my brain is spilling out ideas almost faster than I can deal with them. As I am getting better in my writing skills, I am also getting better at capturing these ideas so that I don’t lose nearly as many of them to the netherworld. This is also the time of year when my creativity comes back to life and I never know where to put my energies. I am over flowing with little stories lately, though, so it seems to pick itself sometimes as well. I have several stories on my little fire right now. I have sent some out. I am going into three months waiting for an answer on one story and it is stressing me out. I am also more and more interactive with my fellow writers online. Especially those in my extended Post Mortem Press family.

I have to give a shout out to my friend Max Booth III who just published his book “Toxicity”. You can go buy it here:

I can’t say enough good things about this book. I loved this book from the beginning. If you like crazy roller coaster rides from hell and back, then you will love this book. I put it solidly in the middle of “John Dies at the End” and “Breaking Bad”. I also have to laugh at his presale package which included lottery tickets that proclaimed me the winner of “inevitable death” and a small prize of little plastic flies. Mine had bowties. Aren’t they adorable? I also wish to point out that I was the only one that received flies with bowties. I’m special like that.

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So that’s a plug for my PMP friend. Also another friend is in need of help. His name is James Newman. He was recently in a freak accident and broke his back. Here is the link to the Post Mortem Press amazon store that has been set up to benefit him and help his family recover from this horrible setback.

Go buy a book!
Another thing happened this week. Wee Geek’s dad decided to email him. Now we all now this is insanity. He sent a photo of the two little boys from his second marriage and captioned it with “your brothers are playing pokemon”. This was akin to walking over Wee Geek’s grave. After kicking him out, pulling his financial aid and then making his life miserable and being the cause of leaving a job he’d been at for 4 years….this wasn’t enough for him. He had to poke at him again. This is just beyond belief. Thankfully Wee Geek is my child and told him that he wanted to see his half-brothers but not if that meant he had to deal with his dad. He also told him to shove his love up his ass. To me, this is highly reminiscent of other past touches. He’s in a low place. History tells me that like wife #2 that wanted to be a mommy and made it her life mission to take my kid until she had her own, this new girlfriend is doing the same. Beware new girlfriend. My ex-husband is a master manipulator and cannot be trusted. My kid wants nothing to do with him. He’s been burned too many times. My ex-husband is not what he seems. Unless he seems like a sociopath to you. Then you’re spot on.

Okay, I think I’ve recounted everything. Except for my amazing little talk at Kendal Elementary School. A friend is a teacher there and asked me to come and speak to her class about writing. Which I did. They were 3rd graders. They asked amazing questions and they were very respectful and interested in what I had to say. I showed them how I write and how I edit and talked to them about a book that they were working on. It was a great experience and it jump started me back on to my goals. I still have the goal of sending out something every month. No lie, I need to catch up. I’ve only submitted a couple of things and one of them was rejected with set me back for a few days. I’m back on the horse, though, so here we go. I’ll keep you posted as things are being accepted and getting out. Please go help Max and James.

A side note is that Post Mortem Press has made me feel accepted and part of a family. You all know this. I have confidence in myself as a writer because of PMP and for this I am eternally grateful.

One last edit upon seeing this get shared. I never mentioned “Godzilla”. If you haven’t seen it, go see it. It’s wonderful. Bryan Cranston is fantastic in it. Godzilla is one of my favourite movie monsters. He represents a weird time in tv history for me when I would watch bad B movies after school. I saw all the classics. Harryhausen, Corman, Hammer….prolly why I write the things I do today. I adore giant bugs and classic monsters of all sorts.

Now faithful minions, go forth and use your evil powers for good.

On the Cusp of a New Universe


Well, it’s been a while faithful readers. I know this. It’s been busy around the land of the not quite right. I finished a teaching assignment yesterday and got the first definitive “no” answer to my first set of applications for new jobs. I don’t know what’s next. I didn’t know what might be 6 months ago when I came upon this opportunity and miracles abound, I still have no idea. I am reveling in the irony of the fact that my first day of being unemployed, I am lying in sick. Sigh.

I am getting excited about the idea of diving back into getting this novel edited and out the door in some shape or form. I am anxious to start making a living with this little craft. I’m pretty excited about doing some of these crafts that have been lying about and trying to make a go of something to do with them. I have long had this idea of supplying some sort of thing that teachers can’t live without, but I can’t figure out what that is!

The unemployed guy actually suggested a nice lie in with no stress today to try and recuperate. I wonder how long I can milk this, now! It’s interesting being in this place. I’ve never quit a job and had it work out for me and I really don’t have many expectations that the track record might change. After all, the hubs has been out of work since July and not really doing much. So we are at a place that we never have been in or expected to be in. Who would think that at this place in our lives that we would be both without jobs and without insurance, trying to figure out what is next in our lives? I’m a little breathless, but excited, too.

We are both feeling as if we need to do something creative. We just have no idea what that is going to look like. Well, I have a few ideas. There are just so many things to do! I love the idea of being more creative and living from that creativity. We’ve been busy movie going again and now that I’ve filled up the memory space on the Ipad, I need to get some reading done. I think that taking off for a week to just think and take a little breath is a good idea. I guess I’ll go and file for unemployment on Monday and then start putting in applications again. I wish I had more of an idea of what I really wanted. I do have a little idea, but it involves more school and that sounds too hard and like too much work. But it would align with what I really have found talent in doing.

We can follow our dreams, but we often cannot pick the length of the road that it takes us to realise them. I thought that I wanted one thing from life and it has proven to be pretty frustrating. So, maybe it really is time to put it down and move on to some other part of that dream.

I guess I will go and forage for lunch and see if something jumps out at me in the next few weeks. Hold on to your hats readers, maybe there is something good in the future and something that will put us on a road that we didn’t expect to be on.

The Great Cspan Wars and Other Tales of Strife


There have been many wars in our house lately. I know I’m losing them. I’m not stupid enough to think that anything I have to say would ever over rule an ex wife, a kid who shouldn’t be, or a daughter. I suppose the time of all this (cough and sputter) gloriousness os about at its end.

I pride myself for not living under any kind of delusions and for being very honest with myself. I know that I will never rank as high as anyone with blonde hair or who was actually born with the Best Buy Guy’s last name. Nor apparently anyone who he gave his last name no matter how deviously this name was obtained.

The start of this strife was an ex wife’s phone call begging for money. Don’t worry dear reader, that phone number has once again been blocked from our phones. I wouldn’t have minded except for a few minor issues. Number one being that this is not kid’s mother asking for money. I’m sure they make more than we do. It’s insulting. More insulting is the response of the BB Guy in agreeing. This was moment’s after telling me that IF he still had a job in February then maybe we would go do something special for our 10th anniversary. Really? Then don’t send money out the door to a complete stranger. It’s so frustrating. More frustrating when his stupidity rears up and he tells me that we don’t have money together so he can do whatever he wants with his money.

All I can say is WOW! My idiotic moronic ass clown of a spouse has reached a new plateau of stupidity. It’s amazing. More amazing that when I suggested he tell eldest daughter that he had to reduce what he was giving her for the wedding by that amount he agreed that was reasonable. I can’t begin to fathom how fucking stupid this point in my life is. No one wins in this situation. A wedding website has come out as well. Most significantly embarrassing is that we are all pretending to embrace not kid, but still no one knows how to refer to her. I believe she was referred to as “another of my father’s daughters”. Another wow escapes my lips. On the tail of the BB guy telling me he’d give me $100 for Wee Geek’s school to shut me up. See the rampant insanity has taken root!

On the front of Wee Geek I have been on the phone with the lawyer’s office every day for 2 weeks. I don’t know if it’s getting me anywhere, but it certainly is serving to raise my frustration levels beyond nuclear.  School went back this week, but Wee Geek is not there. Still nothing has been resolved. Of course. However, my exes whore lawyer is taking me to court in March to re-evaluate my income. No one addresses the amount of child support I’ve overpaid. No one addresses the ridiculous amount of legal fees that I’m having garnished. No one addresses that my kid is not in school and that his dad is not helping with his living expenses in any way. But by god let’s make sure the whore lawyers get their money. I’m sure this is more about my ex finding out about the book. I’m sure I’m a millionaire now. At least I will be when they are done telling their story.

There seems to be a new judge. I don’t know if this is going to be any better, but I somehow doubt it. It’s never made a difference before. One legal figure in Delaware county is as crooked as the next one.

Note to self don’t divorce the current husband there. It feels like we are barreling toward that direction. All our conversations involve fighting about Cspan lately. I’m sick and tired of fucking Cspan because I realize that all ass clowns in charge are still ass clowns. It doesn’t matter who they say they are affiliated with or what they claim to stand for. They same evil monkeys are pulling the puppet strings and nothing changes because of this. I hate politics. I hate the news. Our tv has been on these inane things every day for weeks. I don’t care what they are promising. It will not change. So tonight the Cspan wars erupted into me being told to shut my fucking mouth and the clicker being thrown across the room. There won’t be any apologies. I’m supposed to start arguing politics and care. I do not. It’s pathetic that 12 years is being reduced to a war over channels on a box. It really boils down to me having to deal with the stressful and awful situations I deal with all day and wanting to come home and just watch nothing. That stupid stuff that doesn’t have to be thought about. It’s nice to not have to solve someone’s problem for five minutes. Silly, I know.

The biggest oddity in my life this week was my Wee Geek turning 20. Who knew? A year ago, I thought I’d never have another birthday with him. BB Guy and I drove over and hung out with old high school friends on Saturday night and then hung out with my mom until Wee Geek decided to show up for birthday lunch. Little did I know that he was waiting for his dad to acknowledge him. He never did. Typical Scott. Wee Geek feels abandoned and angry. I feel angry. It all just sucks lately.

I’m feeling frustrated because I’m not getting any writing done at night. That need to decompress at night is so overwhelming that nothing else can find its way out of my brain. The storyboard is looking gorgeous, however. Even if I can’t find any of the incarnations of the story that I want to work on. I hate the thought of starting over from complete scratch!

I know I’ve been grouchy and bitchy in this posting. I’m sorry. Sometimes you have to vent and obviously I have few chances here in the lovely paradise of the land of the not quite right.

Another day in my surreal autistic life


It’s been a pretty exciting last month. Getting published and having Kale back in my life has certainly done wonders for my morale and well being. Although, I could do without the roller coaster ride of not knowing what’s going on with the court system and getting his college paid for.
I guess it’s just another way for the court to prove to me that they have more control over my life than I do, which as some of you might have guessed is absolutely intolerable in an autistic world.
I finally get an order to stop child support and then they slam me with an order to garnish my wages for an absolutely fictitious accounting of lawyer fees. Why are lawyers such bottom feeding whores? (Sorry, should have used my inside voice for that comment, it’s just that it’s so hard to keep that voice under control when I’m this frustrated with everything). How they expect me to help my son with college when his dad isn’t helping and pay 25% of my “disposable income” to a whore lawyer, I will never understand.
That’s another thing that irks me. WTF is disposable income? I am pretty damn sure that I don’t have any of that and if I did I could damn sure thing of better things to do with it than give it to some worthless lawyer. Sigh.
So, book sales are going pretty well. I’ve sold 50 books my self. Well, almost 50. So, we will see where that gets us….lol.
I’m pretty irked at the system in general for once again letting my ex off Scott-free, now I know where that term came from. He’s never had to pay for his ill and pathological behaviours in any way. They have always rewarded him for being a complete and total ass. Wow does that realisation bring my life into perspective. Not lol.
So, my ex will once again try and get out of contributing anything to Kale’s education whatsoever, or try to put some ridiculous constraints on it. Can you imagine them ordering an almost 20 year old to visit with a parent that he wishes dead? Mark my words, however, this is how that will go.
So, I’m trying to figure out how they made an accounting of the child support file and of course, am getting absolutely nowhere. Because no one in Delaware County seems to actually understand how math works.
I am just in a frenzy for some Delaware county (insert appropriate word here for yourself, because I’m sure there’s nothing that I can list here that will not get me put in jail) something.
So, dearest readers, contact me for payment info on the book, I promise that all profits go to helping my starving artist to stay in school.
Visit my facebook page at Katey Boller and friend me or visit my twitter feed at autiezombiegirl and friend me.

A belated blog post


I have been horribly negligent of the blog.  It’s mostly because we’ve had a lot going on and then we were on vacation for two weeks and then were bombarded again.

So to catch you all back  up to date, I had to go to court again at the end of May.  Of course it was the same old crap.  Although the judge did actually tell me that we were there to hear my side of the story.  No one listened, but we were there to hear it all. So this is the bits of pieces that I wrote while waiting and my commentary on the after effects of it all.  Next a mutant blog!

It’s so dementedly disturbing waiting outside court.  It’s a disorienting look at human nature and what it thinks is appropriate.  My ex always comes to court looking like he hasn’t bathed in 6 weeks.  He’s almost always wearing something that looks like he’s been sleeping in it for at least a week and that he’s slopped at least 2 meals down the front of it.

Two kids walk in wearing torn up jeans and t-shirts with inappropriate slogans.  They look like these clothes were their pajamas as well.  Some people wear what I presume are in Indiana standards, their good jeans.  The lawyers all look like slightly rumpled sharks and are fat and happy.  I always think that the picking must be good at the bottom of the sludgepile where they feed.  My ex’s lawyers are the fattest of all.  They have found a particularly good bit of sludge to eat from.  My ex is about 450 pounds, he’s probably the cream of the crop in sludge.

I always take deep breaths and try to keep my brain totally blank. There are so many awful social rules in court and I don’t understand any of them.  I wish someone would write a manual for autistic people who have to deal with the legal system.  Every subtle nuance-y rule seems like it’s amplified times 100 and the punishments for not following the rules seem so much more extreme.

I watch everyone carefully and concentrate hard on repressing my tics.  I’m sure that magnifies my stress level by somewhere close to a million.  I try very haard to not think of this as some kind of freak circus where the illusion is that my ex is a decent human being and therefore worthy of his words weighing more than mine.  But that is exactly what has happened though.  Unfortuneately for him, divorce court issued me x-ray vision and I now can see every lie for exactly what it is.  Of course, for some reason everyone else in this seems to have been issued rose coloured blinders.  For some reason these blinders make him look like some kind of upstanding guy when he’s really a small little man who hides behind facades.  How crafty he is to have learned such important lessons from his father.  Isolate the people you abuse and jump on a church bandwagon.

In all of this, I muse if the Bible banger that figured out the exact date for the Apocalypse could have made a gross miscalculaation of 24 hours?

The zoo in the waiting area has increased.  The mood has escalated and you can feel the anger and the mistrust and the evilness jusst seeping into the air.  It’s a noxious pool of toxic waste. It’s everything I can do to stop myself from throwing up.  This air is not good for autistic people who are barometers of human emotion.

It amazes me how unsafe I always feel in this place.  I know that it’s mostly because coming to court and having to be with my ex makes me remember every strike and every awful word that he ever said.  It makes me have to deal with emotions that I very successfully repress in my real life.  I know that it’s also because I am so stressed and I know that my brain does not function well under stress.  It doesn’t really function at all.  It tries to wrap me up in a little cocoon and protect me.

I know that they’ve done tons of research on Asperger’s and everything is carefully calculated to knock me off kilter.  I spend all of my energy just holding myself together.  There isn’t anything left over.  The other part of all of this is the unfairness of every decision. The judge threatens to throw me in jail every time I turn around.

I thought that once my son was 18 that all of this would be over.  But it’s not.  I always try to keep it in the back of my mind that my ex has some overwhelming feelings to want to hurt me so badly.  I don’t care and I am left sitting here an empty shell with no feelings or anything.  I don’t even care enough to hate him anymore.

It feel so poisonous in court that I can hardly breathe.

In the end, my ex’s lawyers tried to make it look as if I’m an idiot and that my appeal was a childish effort to strike out at my ex for taking my son away.  If only my motivation had been so simple.  In the end, they’ve decided that I’m going to fork out another $7000 in lawyer fees.  Seriously?  I must be sitting on a winning lottery ticket that I don’t know about.  It’s insane.  Where is all this money supposed to come from?

In the end, I am still in the same place.  I have no idea if my son is even actually alive, at this point I have doubts.  I have no idea what his mental state is, although, I am guessing fragile and fragmented at the very best.  I try to not think about it because frankly that well of depression just seems way too deep.

I can’t understand how the judge does not understand how his actions have tempered the course of events.  It’s frightening to me that he has gotten away with calling me retarded and telling me that I’m unfit as a human.  I realise that part of this is because my ex’s lawyers have done their research and understand how to hit me the hardest.

In the end, the judgement makes no difference.  There is no money for them to have.  There is nothing left for them to take that is imp0rtant to me.  All other relationships in my life are coloured by these court interactions.  All other measurements of trust are held up against these interactions.  All other measurements for safety are held up against this.  It’s just the way that it is.

I have no faith in the legal system.  I have no trust in it or in the officers that it employs.  I have no faith that the system will take care of those who cannot take care of themselves, because the system is there to hurt and belittle and step on you.  Don’t ever believe anything different.  My goodness these evil people have made me cynical!

Nothing has changed.

The vacation has made the next step very clear.
Watch out living entity of evil, I’m coming back for more.

 

 

Did Asperger’s suddenly become synonomous with retarded?


It’s been a fun time since they kicked my appeal out of the State court. I would have thought that since I’m making $1500 a month less than I was the last time we were in court that they would just thank their lucky stars and move on. But no. My slimy ex-husband now thinks that I should pay his legal fees for the appeal. I mean,seriously. Does this fall under balls the size of Texas or what?
It’s amazing how he continues to prove that this is all about getting back at me and not a single thing about my son. He’s managed to make sure that my son is so afraid of him that he never tries to contact me. I find the entire situation so ridiculous and appalling that I am continuously torn between laughing and crying on a daily basis. At any rate it definitely falls under the too stupid to live category.
I am constantly asking myself how he gets out of bed every morning. But then I remember that he is a gigantic piece of slime. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that this stupidity is being entertained. Going to court in Delaware County is nothing short of a deluded exercise in stupidity.
I keep counting all the ways that my ex-slime continues to try and punish me for leaving him. I just keep wondering when it will be enough. I guess when you are plotting revenge on this level, it’s never enough. It’s sad, really.
In the mean time, I’m expecting to walk back into court and forget that the judge said my disability made me retarded. Who in this day and age still thinks that way? The terms disability and retarded are not interchangeable. I don’t care who says it. There are many capabilities in this world. People who discount others because of their own misguided perceptions and misconceptions than anyone with a disability. When you think about it, who truly has the disability here?

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