Gone Dark

This morning I was greeted with 23 separate texts from Scarlett running the gamut between my mental state, her "Christianity", what medications I am or am not on and more or less ending with some veiled threat concerning an eventual settlement and court.  I responded to 6 of those texts as well as ignoring one phone call from her in the midst of her text storm.

Shortly after that fun had died down, I received an email from my attorney telling me he had just spoken to Scarlett's attorney and that she was complaining about me trying to contact her by text, phone and email and she wanted to pursue a restraining order.

My attorney suspected that much, most, if not all of what he'd heard was probably hyperbole but that it would still be in my best interests to just "go dark".  Which sounded like an excellent idea to me.

So I have blocked both of her numbers as well as her email address (which I own and control anyway) from my phone and email.  The silence that has ensued is truly golden, with the added benefit that, knowing Scarlett, she is probably now climbing the walls and jumping out of her skin because I am ignoring her.  That is one thing the Cluster B's just will not tolerate.  Being ignored.

They need their drama, their chaos and conflict.  And they need someone else to supply the raw material for that drama, chaos and conflict.  Sorry Scarlett.  I've grown tired of the game.  The lies.  The hypocrisy.  The 180 degree turns.  I am done.  Finished.  Through.

I was advised to do all of this shortly after this divorce proceeding started.  I didn't feel then that it was a good idea.  Funny how someone twisting reality and making it sound like they've been the innocent victim in all the drama they themselves have created can change your mind.

Good luck Scarlett.  I await your psychotic break with eager anticipation.

Twas the night before Christmas

“‘Twas The Night Before Christmas”


‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, only Salty Dog was sleeping, not so the louse. Her stockings were flung by the bed with no care, in anticipation of Pecker soon to be there.

The neighbors were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads. And good people in town, and I at my site, had just settled our brains for a long winter night.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, Scarlett sprang from her bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window she flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow, gave a luster of midday to objects below, when, what to her cheating eyes should appear, but a miniature uber and eight tiny men (my dear), with a little old driver so lively and quick, she knew in a moment it must be St. Dick!
More rapid than eagles his cheaters they came, and he whistled and shouted but Scarlett called them by name:

“Now, Pecker! Now, Arnie! Now, Kirk and whoever! On, roommate! On, wedding guy! On,

Bud and no name! In the backseat, against the wall, now, ravage me! Ravage me! Ravage

me all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, so up to the driveway the cheaters they flew, with the uber full of sex toys, and St. Dickolas too. And then, in a twinkling, she heard on the ground the prancing and pawing of each little sex hound. As she drew in her head, and was turning around, up the stairs St. Dickolas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with blood and goop; a bundle of sex toys he had flung on his back, and he looked like a pervert just opening his crack. His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry. His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the bottle in his hand was empty long ago.


The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of KY jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right sick little elf, and she screamed when she saw him, in spite of herself.


A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave her to know she had everything to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and defiled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. Laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, down the stairs he go'ed. He sprang to his uber, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But she heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight…


“You had a good thing, but Satan awaits you this night!”

Go To Jail, Go Directly To Jail...Or Not

Some background;  Got a call from Scarlett who was at the store wanting to know whether I had carried through on my warning to her that I would be taking her off the one remaining credit card of mine that she was still using.  Told her yes.  And she hung up.  A little later I received another call informing me that what I'd done was illegal and that I could go to jail so I better reinstate her pronto.  She told me to review the back page of the divorce summons she'd had me served with a year ago this past May.

What follows, in the order that it occured is the email exchange between us.  I post this not to necessarily cast any aspersions on Scarlett but to show beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my claims of her immaturity, inability to properly handle money, piss poor decision making capability as well as her desire to put the responsibility for her actions onto others is not just some fantasy of mine.

- Salty

On Dec 23, 2017, at 3:42 PM, Salty wrote:

So I'm going to jail? Because I removed you as an authorized user from my credit card? Not hardly.

That does not fall under my fiduciary duty. What does fall under that category is the requirement to provide 5 days advance notice prior to incurring any extraordinary expense. You know, like..oh let me think...$**,000 of cash "gifts". Like that.

You don't have any money? Tough. Maybe if you hadn't spent the past 19 months giving it away to XXXX, XXXXX, XXXX, eating establishments, church, Venus, some dumb kid in Central America or wherever that scam is taking place, triple pane windows....and that's just off the top of my head concerning the money you liberated from A*** and the safes that you yourself spent.

Over that same 19 month span of time you also managed to charge over $**,000 on just the S******* card! In other words, what you blew through in 19 months is what some FAMILIES live on for a year! And you think I'm going to reinstate anything? No. Let me repeat that. NO!

Reclaim the money you gave away from XXXX. From XXXXX. From XXXX. Why the hell did I have to pay almost $*00 to fix her washer when you'd already given her (at least) $*,000 of OUR money??

You blew it Scarlett. Big time. I told you for years to slow it down. I even told you during the past 19 months to slow it down. Told you you better be careful. Did you listen? Absolutely not. And what happened? Exactly what I knew would happen. You spent yourself broke and now you're trying to drag me down with you. Piss on that.

You know what the final straw was that led me to removing you as an authorized user? Of course you do. But just in case - your absolutely stupid, humiliating, teenage f**k me night with "boy" ...and how did that end?? Oh yeah, with you in a puddle of your own blood, slipping and falling in your own blood and defiling a marriage bed with that same blood. You must be so proud. Does your mom know about this? Someone really ought to tell her....

You made your (bloody) bed Scarlett. Hope you enjoy lying in it. Maybe Mr. too-afraid-to-come-out-and-face-me-Mercedes can help you out. Unbelievable! Did that poor sap know he was sleeping in a bed stained in blood and who knows what else from someone else from only a week ago??

You are sick Scarlett. Really sick. Or maybe you just never grew up. Or both. A sick little teenager.

From: Scarlett
Sent: Saturday, December 23, 2017 3:48 PM
To: Salty
Subject: Re: Jail

Yes. You WILL go to jail. Merry Christmas. I have 0 money to buy gifts. Thanks for making it even better. I just wanted it to be January so I could get as far away from you as possible. Congratulations! You have just made it lovelier. No I have no money to buy gifts, eat, or put gas in my car. YES!! It is illegal for you to do this!!!

Uh, no Scarlett.  It is stupid, irresponsible, immature and foolish for you to have done this to yourself.  Were $**,000 of gifts necessary?  NO.  Triple pane windows? NO.  A cruise?  NO.  Almost $*,000 (probably more) of clothes? NO.  Dance lessons? NO.  Dance shoes? NO.  Central American poor kid scam? NO.  Constantly eating out?  NO.  Changing locks?  NO.  Destroying safes?  NO.  An ER visit on 12/14 due to an illicit sexual encounter? NO.

You have NO money to buy gifts or gas because of what YOU foolishly decided to spend money on!  Illegal for ME to do this???  I had NOTHING to do with it except to again and again and again try and talk SOME sense into you!  YOU did this to yourself Scarlett.  YOU!  Not me.  It's long past time that YOU take responsibility for YOUR actions!  YOU took $**,000 and change away from me last year.  $** grand.  FAMILIES live on that.  YOU pissed it away.  YOU!  And now you try and pin the blame for YOUR irresponsible actions on someone else?  Please, bring the charges.  I will relish explaining all of this to any judge!

YOU are responsible for your stupid, immature, childish decisions and YOU get to deal with the consequences of those stupid, immature and childish decisions.  YOU!  Not me.  YOU!

Surprised you voted for Trump when Bernie seems more your style.  But the problem with socialism, as you've just discovered, is that eventually you run out of other people's money to piss away.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello, My Name Is...

So I had to run over to a drug store to pick up some Rx's for myself.  It's close to Tara so I drove by and what did my eyes see but a strange car parked in my driveway.  Being the curious sort, I stopped and pulled in right behind it.  Then I retrieved my phone and called Scarlett to inquire who her house guest was.

"Fuck!  I didn't ask you to come over!"  was her response.  Sounds like an awfully long name to me....the little man probably was made fun of all through school with that kind of name.

Fuck!  Pay attention in class.
Fuck! If you have something to share I'm sure the rest of the class would be interested.  Fuck! How many times do I need to tell you to be quiet?
Fuck! One more peep out of you and you're going to the principal's office!
Fuck! I didn't ask you to come over! I will only say this one more time.  Are you hearing me?

And can you imagine the playground?

Fuck! You don't know shit.  So let me introduce you, Fuck!, this is Shit.  Shit, this is Fuck!

I feel an Abbott and Costello bit coming on....

Anyway, I continue my inquiry and note that Scarlett is quickly (re)gaining her reputation as a whore.  My calls continue for a few minutes as she for one reason or another seems to be hanging up on me.  Can't imagine why.

Scarlett finally emerges from what is now the neighborhood whorehouse and asks "What is wrong with you?"  What's wrong with me?  Seriously?  So I just ask again (this gets so tiring) who her house guest is.  "I'm getting on with my life" is the response.  What?  This guy has multiple names??  But on the hunch that what she just said was not his name but instead a statement of some sort I corrected her by telling her that in fact her life was not "getting on" as she thought but rather was headed down the toilet.

She took offense to that and announced that she was going back inside and calling the police.  I invited her to do just that so that there would be a record of her and her behavior.  But I also had Rx's to pick up.  So, since Fuck! was not going to come out and play I left.

About half an hour or so later I received a call from Tara.  However, it was a male voice who asked if he was speaking to Salty.  I informed him that this was indeed his phone.  He proceeded to tell me that he was Officer Whatshisname from the Fog Beach PD.  My response was "So says the voice on the phone".  He managed to convince me that he was who he said he was and not Fuck!.

So we had a nice little conversation about what does and does not constitute harassment, my concern about a total stranger being in a house that I own the majority of and that still contains the vast majority of my items, items that I have no idea whether they are being pocketed by Mr. Fuck! or destroyed, damaged, being listed on ebay, etc.  Mr. Officer seemed to understand my concern but wanted to make it clear to me that I was not to come over to MY house unless specifically asked and that he had listened to my messages and that if those were to continue it could be construed as a crime.

So I asked Mr. Officer if I could ask him a question.  Sure, he said.  Okay then, if voice mails can be considered harassment and possibly a crime, what about emails?  Why yes, he said those as well.  Good.  Because I have saved in excess of 200 emails from Scarlett that make what I said in 5 messages look pale by comparison.  I also informed him that yes, I have come over to MY house a handful of times unannounced but by far the vast majority - 98% or so of the time, have been at her request or command.

I was informed that he was not going to be doing anything more than just writing up a report but if this behaviour (on both ends) continued that either one of us could request a restraining order on the other.  Color me gobsmacked.....

And that's where it lies now.  Scarlett believes that she really put Salty in his place when all she really accomplished was reducing her share of the settlement even further.  Not to mention now being completely on her own.

Still don't know what Fuck! looks like but I have a hunch it's something like a little sniveling 98 pound weakling and coward who sends a whore out to do his talking for him.

Told you I was going to start having some fun with this!

Fog Beach Floozie

floozie  

floo·zy also floo·zie  (flo͞o′zē)

n. pl. floo·zies Slang

A woman who is regarded as tawdry or sexually promiscuous.  A vulgar promiscuous woman who flouts propriety.

 Noun: floozie - a prostitute who attracts customers by walking the streets

Thesaurus:

hustler, slattern, street girl, streetwalker, floozy, hooker

bawd, cocotte, cyprian, fancy woman, harlot, lady of pleasure, prostitute, sporting lady, tart, whore, woman of the street, working girl - a woman who engages in sexual intercourse for money, hussy, jade, slut, tramp, wanton, wench.

I like to define my terms so everyone knows what I'm talking about.  The above definition, complete with synonyms, pretty much describes the person that I have spent the last 30 years (and counting) of my life with.  I am astounded that I was not the victim of some STD but grateful nevertheless.

I recently came into possession of additional information concerning Scarlett and her proclivity for promiscuity.  This woman has a serious, serious problem.  I don't think it too far from the truth to say that if it walks, if it breathes, if it has a male sex organ, Scarlett is most definitely interested.  Color, creed, religion, national origin, marital status - none of that is any concern seemingly.

From the back seat of a car during the interlude between a wedding and a reception (not hers), numerous first "date" romps in strange bedrooms with men she barely knew, best friends of others she knew, total strangers , to next door neighbors I doubt if there is any situation that Scarlett has not "done it" in or tried to figure out a way to do it and who with.

I cannot be out of this sham, scam and joke of a marriage fast enough.  Though not at any cost.  Rather, I am even more adamant in my goal of seeing to it that she walks with as little as legally permissible.  No doubt whatever it is that she feels she was cheated out of (which would be an ironic thought and choice of words for her), she can easily walk the streets and turn a few tricks to make it up.

I recall her many times referring to someone she doesn't even know as a Gold Digging Whore.  Truer words were never spoken.  About Scarlett. 

Do I care or give a damn anymore what Scarlett does or thinks?  Here's a handy gauge expressly designed to measure how much of a fuck one gives.

 

Stay Salty my friends!

Frequent Flyers

Been a little quiet since Friday but Scarlett has this way of just not leaving well enough alone.

Saturday I was the lucky recipient of yet one more desperate try/plea to get me to reconsider some sort of reconciliation.  Given all that she has done and said I think it's fair to say that what she's asking is not really a request that I reconsider but rather that I erase from memory  everything she has seen fit to do these past 19 months.

For the life of me I can't figure out why, even in her distorted mind, she would think that would have a snowball's chance in hell of happening.  My best guess is that it has to do with $$$ that I know she is getting tighter and tighter on.  Unfortunately for her I am long past the point of giving a tinker's damn.  She made a lot of very bad and short sighted monetary decisions that are now all coming home to roost.  And Salty has removed his safety net so she has nowhere to fall but flat on her face or her ass.

And her dating decisions of late have been equally disastrous.  Not sure where Pecker stands on her list of priorities at the moment because she is now investigating bachelor #3.
The reference to the old Dating Game show is not accidental.  Bachelor #3 hails from an area approximately 3 hours driving from Tara.  Texting has been the mode of communication I am led to believe up until today.  Arnie, as I will call him (mind if I call you Arnie, Arnie?  You can call me relieved), has already professed his love for Scarlett sight unseen.  And he came to Tara today for a morning date.

There is something really odd about someone who claims to "love you" before they have even seen you (though I grant that the blind can and do fall in love) and claim a willingness to follow you wherever you go.  Scarlett's plan to move 3,000 miles away was apparently a topic of conversation which didn't seem to faze Arnie one bit.

Stalker comes to mind.  As does unbalanced.  Odd.  Psychotic.

Anyway, having some idea now of what Scarlett likes to do on first dates I wondered what she could possibly do today.  Her trip to the ER last week has, to use a baseball term, put her on the "bench" for at least 6 weeks.  Now what?  Movies?  Lunch?  Dinner?  Walks?  Hardly what someone with the sex drive of a 17 year old boy (her words not mine) really wants to do or finds enjoyable.

Perhaps this is something that shouldn't be made light of but the other thing I discovered is that while Scarlett believes that God is probably not too pleased with her behavior of late, her attitude is that He understands.  And if He doesn't, well that's just too bad for Him because she's going to continue to do it anyway.  God can either like it or lump it.

Not sure which sect of Christianity that belief arises from.

But, if she intends on following through with this game plan, for her sake I can only hope that the hospital has a Frequent F**ker plan she can enroll in.

Quote

"Trials are medicines which our gracious and wise Physician prescribes because we need them; and he proportions the frequency and weight of them to what the case requires.  Let us trust His skill and thank Him for his prescription."

- Isaac Newton

Spin Cycle

I think we all reach a point where we just get tired and fed up with being lied to.

There are white lies, lies of omission, lies of commission, inadvertent lies, serious lies, stupid lies and the list goes on.  Each is told for a purpose. Sometimes noble, sometimes humanitarian, sometimes to save face, sometimes to hide an error (whether in judgement, action or otherwise), sometimes to divert attention and sometimes the liar just lies because they have been doing it so long that they've become pathological.

I don't think Scarlett has reached the pathological stage...yet.  She won't lie when the truth would sound better, but she is getting close.

I was informed today that Pecker (from yesterday's blog) came over yesterday morning to help her because of her little visit to the ER.  I was also informed that the trip to the ER was not caused by him or anything he did.  No, it was instead caused by me.  It was my fault.

Okay.  By this point I am used to being blamed for things.  I'm used to hearing how most of her problems are my fault.  I am to blame. Me, me, me.  She is perfect and godly and all the rest of the nice and sweet little stuff.

But really.  If you are going to pin the blame for something on someone it might be good for your case if that individual can be shown to have been there and also did something to cause the problem you are attempting to pin on him.

Or not.  Apparently, unbeknownst to me, merely speaking the words makes it true.  Man, I want that job!  But I guess that doesn't exist in the real world.  It does however in Scarlett's.

She decided to try and spin all the events of yesterday into either being my fault or due to some "medical condition".  When I brought up the inconvenient fact that the physical evidence I saw and photographed (a blood stained mattress with the bulk of the stain located in the general area of a certain body cavity) contradicted her statement that nothing happened, she just woke up like that for no apparent reason, she then changed her story to one in which I was somehow the villain.  Yet I was nowhere around.  Hmmm.

Then she tells me that Pecker had only arrived that morning to "help her" because of her ER visit.  So, why did he have that overnight bag with him when he finally vacated my property I innocently asked.  "Well he carries that with him everywhere he goes" she replied.

You mean like a homeless guy?  There was no response to that question.

After about 10 minutes of this foolishness I just told Scarlett that I was tired of listening to all her lies.  I was born in the dark but I wasn't born yesterday.  I know damn well that Pecker was there during the evening, you know it, the paramedics know it, the ER doctors know it.

Well she finally caved and admitted that yes Pecker had come over that day and spent the night.  Told her it was refreshing to hear the truth.  For once.

Happily that phone call finally ended but it was later resurrected by email.  Now she was back on her 30 years of marriage jag.  Sort of.  Except this time it was a little different because she couldn't say she was going to be old, alone, sick, and die alone.  Hard to say that when you have some young buck sharing what had been your marriage bed with you I guess.  But good old Scarlett soldiered on anyway.

Again, my fault, my doing, she was pure as the driven snow.  Godly woman.  Worshiped the ground that I walked on (where she spits, grass never grows again...), cut down in her prime, oh what a wonderful wife she was, I didn't realize it, took advantage of her love  blah-de-blah-de-blah.

She couldn't for the life of her understand my reservations about having some strange young Pecker in the house.  A Pecker I reminded her I knew nothing about.  Age?  Occupation?  Living arrangements?  Car?  Police record?  I seriously doubt Scarlett knows the answers to a lot of those questions yet she claims to be "in love" with Pecker.  More power to ya Scarlett but I guess I'm just old fashioned.  I still think you need to KNOW the person first.  But I suppose that's just my fuddy duddiness showing.

And because I saw fit yesterday to show up at Tara to walk Salty Dog, as she requested, she now wants my key returned.  I was also informed that she will do whatever she damn well pleases in that house regardless of any humiliation I may suffer.  Truthfully, there isn't anything she can do that would humiliate me.  Humiliate her on the other hand?  Oh, she does that in spades.  But being the stupid little dumbshit she is, she just doesn't see it.  Or at least acknowledge it.  Anyway, my response to that was:

She was informed that there will be a walk through of Tara prior to any money changing hands to note any and all damage that her and her prepubescent manchild have inflicted on the property.  That there will now be a time limit attached to her continued residence at Tara after she has been bought out and that rent will be levied for each day that she is late.

Finally, after all this time, I think I'm going to have some fun with this.

There Will Be Blood

So.  I've been keeping some things under wraps these past few weeks because up until today they really weren't too much of an issue.  That changed fast.

Back before Thanksgiving, when Scarlett was 3,000 miles away, she put a profile up on some dating site.  Got something like 300 hits which made her feel good and special.  Once she got back to Tara she winnowed that down to about half a dozen or so.  The first dude she went out with was "too old" and too "stuck in his ways" whatever that might mean.  Ok.  Strike one.

Guy #2 was far more interesting.  Younger than her (which is what she wanted) and I don't know what else.  Well, they set a first date which consisted of him coming over to Tara where Scarlett was going to fix him dinner.  Maybe it's just me but I kind of think that a first date should be held in a more public place in case you find yourself with a lunatic of some sort.  Whatever.

So this date, a week (maybe 2) ago started out that way, then they watched a movie or two and....it became a sleepover.  There's that old time religion for you.....

Well a couple of days later, I get a call from Scarlett who is headed to Urgent Care with what she thinks is a bladder infection.  And as it turned out that's pretty much what it was.  But theses types of infections are also called Honeymoon Cystitis .  Huh.

Okay.  So we know how that first date went and we're getting a pretty good feel for the type of person Scarlett really is.  But then along came date #2 with this guy.  I think I'll just refer to him as Pecker.

So, Scarlett calls me yesterday to tell me that she will not be going to her usual Thursday morning function at her church and therefore I will not need to come over to Tara to walk Salty Dog.  Huh.  My spidey sense tells me something is up.  Well, courtesy of a neighborhood mole I have my suspicions confirmed that in fact Pecker is coming over that evening and it will be yet another sleep over.

This morning upon waking up I find two voice mails from Scarlett.  The first informs me that she is in the emergency room with really no details.  The second informs me that a neighbor will be picking her up from the emergency room, she lost a lot of blood.  Now things are sounding strange.

So I call Scarlett who is now at Tara.  She is feeding Salty Dog but would like me to come over later today to walk him.  Ok.  And when I asked what happened I am told that she had an asthma attack, fell down, cut her forehead, lost a lot of blood and called 911 to take her to the emergency room.

Asthma, loss of blood???  Yeah.  Something here just doesn't foot.

Always good to have a mole to confirm or deny information you get from questionable sources.  Lucky for me, I just happen to have one such individual.  So I place a call and lo and behold discover that most of what I've just been told is....oh, how should I phrase this?

Not quite true.  Mostly lies.  100% pure unadulterated horseshit.

So, precisely what did occur that found Scarlett on yet another 911 ride to emergency?

Hemorrhaging.  From her delicate parts.  Thanks to Mr. Pecker.  And she slipped in her own blood, hit her head which caused even more bleeding.  Way to go Scarlett.  You show those young bucks you still have poise, class and a godly nature.

So, neighbor brings Scarlett back to Tara.  She's asked if Pecker is still there.  Oh, no, I gave him some money and told him to call Uber to take him home.  Home?  To mommy and daddy's?  To the dorms?  Mr. Pecker doesn't own a car?  Does he have a driver's license?  The mind reels with all these unanswered questions.

And to back up just a bit.  Scarlett, after calling 911, called this neighbor (at 3 in the AM) to say that Pecker has to be protected.  Apparently she was anticipating the arrival of Police who would see the bloody floors, sheets, mattress, Scarlett's cut on her head, and black eye (which she apparently received by walking into a microphone the other day - more class and poise...) and would naturally assume that Pecker probably should be questioned.

Okay, so we have Scarlett back at Tara with no key.  The good samaritan neighbor does have a key and opens the door for Scarlett.  Scarlett mentions the mess upstairs and neighbor goes up to look.  And who's still there...Pecker.  Probably not the manner in which he really wanted to meet one of the neighbors.  But in the scheme of things this is going to be one of his lesser worries.

So Scarlett is informed that Pecker is still there.  Neighbor leaves and a little later Scarlett calls me to come walk Salty Dog later today.

I go over to Tara, now aware of these facts but thinking that Pecker surely must be gone by now.  I am not going to confront Scarlett with any of this but will point out inconsistencies in her story and allow her to dangle and eventually hang herself.  But as it turned out that wasn't necessary.

I arrive at Tara, see Salty Dog in the garage but hear voices inside my house.  Hmmm.  So I open the door and what do my eyes behold?  Why, it's Scarlett, in her usual place, reclined on the couch (in her bathrobe) and Pecker standing by my kitchen sink.

I politely asked 

"Who the fuck is this?"  To which Pecker responded "I'm Pecker".

Scarlett at this point is being oh so Christian and Godly saying "Oh fuck, what are you doing here?"

I'm not paying much attention to the whore on the couch, instead my attention is directed to the asshat who is standing in my kitchen.  "Get the fuck out of my house boy" I politely told him.  Then I looked at Scarlett and oh what a sight she was.  Slept on hair, black eye, white as a sheet with nice cut on her face running from mid forehead down towards her other eye.

"You did this to her?" I inquired of Pecker.  I dindu nuffin.  Now, in all fairness, he does look like maybe half of that is true but there's a dindu in the woodpile somewhere in his family tree...

So I offered to call the police.  "You don't need to call the police" I am informed by Scarlett.  He dindu nuffin.  Yes, we've already established he's a dindu nuffin.  So, remembering that there is one item upstairs I do need to retrieve I go up stairs leaving Scarlett and Pecker to contemplate their respective fates and whether the previous night's activities were worth the cost that Scarlett will now be paying.  More on that below.

Upon arriving upstairs I see the bedroom.  To Pecker's credit he must have spent some time cleaning up the mess.  But there isn't much you can do about a blood stained mattress.  It looked like some animal had been sacrificed rather ruthlessly and with little regard to it's comfort.  Suffice to say that that mattress is now 100% Scarlett's.

Whilst up there, I say in a voice loud enough for the two irresponsible children downstairs to hear "You fucking hypocrite bitch.  You made me promise and swear that I would not bring any woman into this house while you were gone because that would humiliate you with the neighbors.  And what did YOU do?"

Now, in truth, I didn't need to do anything as Scarlett has already single handedly humiliated herself in the neighborhood with absolutely no help or assistance required from me.  Still, the hypocrisy of it all is almost too much to stomach.

So, back downstairs I go, tell Pecker who is still there (what the hell is the matter with kids now days?) to get the fuck out of my house and off my fucking property.  Really, how many times do you need to tell people something?  Especially people who should realize that maybe, just maybe they are in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Seriously, this younger generation....what the hell are they using for brains?  Their peckers?

My grandad, rest his soul, told me something years and years ago before I even had a driver's license.  He said, Salty:

A man is born with two heads to use

Success depends on which you choose

Heads you win, tails you lose.

I guess Pecker didn't have as wise a grandfather as I did.

Anyway, I am now out of my house (amazing the stench that a house takes on when there is no clean living going on) and am in my car.  Pecker still hasn't left.  So I position my car so I can look straight at my front door.  Pecker and Scarlett finally show their sinful faces and Pecker hoists a small duffel/gym bag over his shoulder and begins to walk down my driveway.  I politely ask him - "Doesn't the little boy have a driver's license?"  His reply was that he did but he didn't drive while drinking.  Yeah, I figured that too was part of last nights festivities.  So, being the responsible adult I am I reminded him that perhaps "maybe you shouldn't be drinking asshole."  Surprisingly, he did not thank me for that very good and healthy advice.  Kids.  Sometimes they can be just so unappreciative.

And that leaves Scarlett still at the front door, now looking at me.  Oh if looks could kill.

She blathers something about it being her house and we aren't married anymore.

Once again, she has her facts all screwed up.

So I respond - "Sadly, we are still married.  And that deal I offered you Tuesday?  Yeah, that's off the table.  You won't have very much left over once this is done.  Bitch."

So what was that deal I refer to?

We had a mediation meeting Tuesday wherein which I pretty much gave her far far more than even a judge would have required.  All she needed to do was keep her nose clean for a couple of days and the documents would've been signed and she would've been on her way.

Now?  

How should I say this?

Scarlett wanted to get screwed.  And with the help of my attorney I plan on doing that to her good and hard.  Not quite in the manner that Pecker did her, I'm not out for physical blood, but there will be blood.

While I was in the bathtub

So, Scarlett is still seeing Irving on Saturdays and I am still paying for each of those sessions.  That's fine, I agreed to that so not a problem.  But Scarlett had some other plans yesterday which conflicted with that appointment.

But, a little while ago I got an alert that a charge had been run through for that session.  So I sent Scarlett an email asking her if she had seen Irving yesterday or if the charge I was seeing was for a missed appointment.

Her response?  "While I was in the bathtub."

Huh?  Maybe it's just me but I didn't see the correlation between that answer and the original question.  So, wanting some additional clarification on the matter I responded with

"While you were in the bathtub?  What the hell does that have to do with whether you saw Irving yesterday or if I'm seeing a charge for a missed appointment?"

Her response?  "I was bathing".

Okay....one of us is really losing it here and I suspect it's not me.  So in order to try and make some sense out of this I responded with

"That's what most people do in the bathtub but I fail to see how that answers my question".

She responds with "I TOLD YOU IT WAS A PHONE APPOINTMENT"

Now things are making a little more sense.  Not much but a little.  So I respond with the following -

"So, you had a phone appointment with Irving yesterday while you were in the bathtub bathing?  Correct?"

Time passes.  Minutes go by.  Then my phone rings.  Scarlett.  I pick up the phone and say hello.

Why are yelling at me?

Uh, I wasn't yelling at you.  You were the one who went all CAPS on me which is the written equivalent of yelling.

Well I was mad!  Yes, I had a phone appointment with him yesterday.

In the bathtub?

I forgot.  I'm forgetting a lot of things lately.

You forgot you had an appointment with him yesterday?

Yes.  He called while I was in the bathtub and I asked if we could have a phone appointment because I wasn't going to be able to make it there.

So....he called you because you were late and he wanted to see if you were going to make it?

Yes.

But....You just got done screaming at me in an email that you'd told me it was a phone appointment.  As though it was set up beforehand and you had let me know.  Now how could you have done that when it was his call to you to see if you were going to make it to the appointment that set up the phone appointment to begin with?

I don't know.  I forgot.  I told you I'm forgetting a lot of things lately.

Uh, you have the capability with your smart phone to make notes, set alerts that kind of thing.  I know because I can even do that on my dumb phone.

Yeah.  I know.  But I haven't done it yet.  Don't know how.  I just have a lot going on right now.

And shortly after that the call was ended.

Sometimes, some days, I am just at a loss for words to truly describe what life with Scarlett was like.

Confusing and disorienting do a fairly good job of it though.

I hate this phone!

Having a few fires around us lately and as a result of one, Scarlett's family needed to evacuate and take shelter at Tara.  This has happened before so it's not something entirely new.

Earlier this year, to get the attention of some guy at church, Scarlett gave away a spare bed that we'd had.  She now regrets that hasty, ill thought out decision.  We also used to have an air mattress.  That too she gave away years ago.  So that leaves sleeping bags which I had placed out of sight and out of reach.

So she calls me with the news of her impending guests and wants to know if there are any sleeping bags here at my campsite.  No, there are not, but there are two there at Tara.  After arguing with me I just tell her to go look where I described putting them.  And she found them.

The city has also been doing some street work and in so doing they destroyed a portion of some irrigation lines of mine at Tara.  So today I called the city and asked if they would be replacing them.  Well, they need to send some dufus out to inspect the damage.  Fine.  Gave them the address, phone number as well as my number.  Afterwards I called Scarlett to give her some heads up.

Instead of answering her phone (her "smart phone" that she just had to have to make her life easier and better) with the standards Hello?, she instead answers with What do you want? in a rather irritated voice.  For crying out loud, her company hasn't been there 24 hours yet, they are HER family, and she's already in a pissy mood?  Fine.  Sadly that's just another thing I'm far too used to with her.  She also has me on speakerphone.  Something I really hate but no biggie right now.  So I tell her why I'm calling.  She gets even more irritated telling me SHE has things she has to do today.  So I explain that no one will be out to Tara today, likely next week.  Oh.  Okay then.

She then tried to do something with her phone.  I have no idea what but whatever it was she couldn't quite figure it out.  I HATE THIS PHONE!!! she says.  Guess somehow that must be my fault even though I tried to talk her out of getting the stupid thing to begin with.  Anyway, she finally gives up on the phone and returns to the topic at hand.  "Whatever" she says.  They can come out or not.  I don't care.  Not my house.

My assumption here is that she was trying to impress her audience with how forceful and independent she is.  I suspect what she managed to do instead was to help her family understand even more why I am gone and not returning.  Way to go Scarlett.

Anyway, after she said that I just said goodbye and hung up.  But then I got thinking.  If she believes that is NOT her house then perhaps I should call back and tell her to get her and her evacuated guests off my property.

Sometimes, well most of the time, it's just way too easy with Scarlett.

I wonder if the fire was my fault too?  Probably.

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

Every lie you tell, is another brick on your road to hell.

I think that's a Salty original but perhaps not.

So why are my thoughts swirling around lies, falsehoods, half truths, prevarications, fabrications, fibs, untruths, deception and dishonesty?  Seems to me it's because sooner or later that's what a divorce devolves down to.  And I've been the recipient of a few of these lately.

Most of them involve Scarlett and her piss poor ability to intelligently manage money.  That has been a central failing of hers for all the years we've been married so nothing really new under the sun there.  What I know, or can reasonably and logically deduce, given what I do in fact know and what I strongly suspect, when asked, she denies vehemently.  I am reminded of a line from Shakespeare's play Hamlet: "The lady doth protest too much, methinks".

I therefore believe that my suspicions are correct and that Scarlett has indeed been quite foolish and carefree with the money that she unilaterally entrusted to herself after spiriting it away from a joint account.  I am well aware that I am not the first poor slob to suffer thusly but others afflictions do little to relieve my own.

Anyway, it's not so much her inability to wisely manage assets that concerns me but rather the long term lingering effect that this will have on her.  Well, more to the point, the effect it may have on moi when the (almost) inevitable conversation occurs in which she pleads for mercy because she was-

Mad
Angry
Not in her right mind
Suffering from a genetic disposition related to half her ancestry
Suffering from another genetic disposition related to the other half of her ancestry
Not paying attention
Not looking ahead


And I know that the first of many of these conversations will shortly be taking place during an upcoming mediation meeting.  I suppose my only solace here is the knowledge that I have done nothing to exacerbate her current situation and that Scarlett seems to be thinking very seriously about a long distance move.  A move that would have many benefits not only for her but for myself as well.

Her funds would go further, she would be considerably closer to those she places a high value on at this time in her life, there are some companionship prospects there as well.  I would regain Tara without the fear of her showing up unannounced (or even announced) and trying to create chaos and havoc.  Salty dog and I could begin the process of recreating Tara to more closely resemble Salty Manor and just knowing that she was far, far away would do wonders for restful sleep.

As usual however in matters concerning Scarlett, this too may change.

The other aspect of her lies and deception really center on her penchant for hypocrisy.  Without delving into the details I'll just say that it revolves around some well known and well worn subjects -

Christianity
Moral codes
Behaviors
Conduct

And I'll leave it at that.  For now.

Signs, Signs Everywhere A Sign

Been thinking lately about all the signs we seem to miss in our relationships that if heeded would serve to clue us in that perhaps we need to get the hell outta Dodge.  If any of the following helps just one person, then I guess the rest of you still aren't paying close enough attention!

Signs you are in the wrong relationship:

1. You are told by more than one person, on more than one occasion what a saint you must be.

2.  You notice your friends not particularly interested in doing anything in which your spouse will be in attendance.

3.  The only way to stop a fight or an argument is to apologize for something you neither did nor said.

4.  You seem to be the only one who ever says I'm sorry even though you didn't do or say anything to be sorry for.

5.  You wonder just what the hell you did to yourself marrying this person.

6.  You can easily see how they benefit from this relationship but you're hard pressed to see how you do.

7.  You'd rather spend quality time with your dog.  In fact, you realize that time spent with your dog is quality.

8.  You are apologizing to neighbors for the other's behavior.

9.  The phrase "not on your meds" rings more and more true

10.  Where once you dreamed about spending the rest of your life with this person, you now dream of an escape no matter how short or fleeting.

11.  When you can leave the house by yourself, you take your sweet little time taking care of the errands and many times take the long way to get there.

12.  You dread the night time.

13.  You fantasize about the other having an affair and not in a bad way.

14.  You see a near miss in a crosswalk or parking lot and say a silent "damn, almost".

15.  You measure your trunk and think about how much of your important stuff you could cram in there before leaving.

16.  You look at new cars concentrating on trunk space.

17.  When out in public, you try and pretend you don't know the other one.

18.  Family gatherings usually serve to just knot your stomach up.

19.  Friends and family ask sincerely how do you put up with it.

20.  A little later, they ask why do you put up with it.

21.  You start Googling Divorce Attorneys

22.  The concept of sole and separate takes on a whole new meaning

23.  The idea of being cheated on is one you welcome

24.  Total strangers witness the others behavior and express their heartfelt wish for you to have a nice day.

25.  You think you may have chosen the wrong time to give up drinking.