Stevie Ray Vaughn

As I've left my external hard drive at home, I find myself without my vast library of music to accompany my day. My big Sony cans and a cup of coffee are usually all I need to power through my day, righting technical wrongs all across the network.

Therefore, I find myself relying solely on YouTube for my music feed. It's an imperfect system as the quality and selection are rather limited and inconsistent at best. Furthermore, the RIAA has now set their sights on the pennies they're losing through just such enjoyment. This means that many songs/videos have been pulled by YouTube under pressure and threat of legal action.

One song that I always find myself gravitating towards during times of musical famine is Stevie Ray Vaughn's rendition of Jimi Hendrix's Little Wing. It's an amazingly well done instrumental that frankly, I enjoy far more than Hendrix's version.

To be fair, you have to be familiar with Jimi's version in order to fully appreciate the instrumental by SRV. I take nothing from Jimi's original, and clearly without it, there'd be no SRV version. There's simply something amazingly engrossing about the clearly translated soul of this song by SRV with only his guitar. Beautiful thing.

Note: The ending of the SRV's rendition is not in the original, it's dubbed over by the producers of the video, which as it turns out is a Fender promotional montage.

Field Trip to Crazy Town

I could have sworn that this morning when I woke up, got dressed, and climbed into the minivan (I don't want to hear it), I was on my way to work. I'm fairly certain that I took the same route that I normally take in the morning. However, despite my assuredness, I somehow arrived at a destination that did not, in any way, resemble work. No, I had apparently arrived in Crazy Town. Ah the frequent disappearance of so many people in the 50s to The Twilight Zone all makes sense now. I can finally see how it happens.

It must have been the phone call I received just before pulling into the parking lot. It was a magical phone call . . . one with the power to swoop down, and whisk me away to Crazy Town. For those paying attention, you may have already guessed that the call was from my ex-wife.

You see, on Monday I dropped of my eldest at school, and my youngest at the daycare where _______ works. My lovely ex-wife was calling to inform me that both kids had lice. Eek. I believe that her initial intention was to inform me that A. they had lice, and B. I should probably launder their bedding and such (which as it turns out, is unnecessary. Read about lice here.). However, the actual delivery turned out to be more her style:

A: They have lice.
B: You should probably launder their bedding.
C: If you actually bathed them, you would have noticed
D: If you had noticed, you could have taken care of it so I don't have to
E: Now I'm going to lose tons of money because I can't go to work

It's important to note that there wasn't much of a pause between A. and E. With that lack of pause, I had little opportunity to say much. It's also important to note that starting at C., she wound up her "high pitched" accusatory tone that I've become quite familiar with.

The reason that's important is because later, when I attempted to relay to her why I became a less-than-pleasant, adversarial individual who mounted a rather broad and all-encompassing counter-attack, she had clearly completely erased the fact that she had communicated points C through E. "I was only calling to tell you that they had lice, and that you were going to want to wash their bedding and clothes, and then you just attacked me!!!!!!!" (imagine a pitch of tone that is ever increasing as the sentence is stated . . . yes, a lot like an air raid siren) Riiiiiiiiight, because I decided to pick up the phone when I saw it was my ex (which is a greater courtesy than she ever extends to me) and immediately launch into a character assassination, because my kids have lice (again . . . eek.). Yeah, because I work that way. That's how I roll.

It certainly had nothing to do with the insinuation that I willingly, and maliciously decided to foist two infested kids upon her just so she'd miss work. Or that because I never bathe or care for my children (for the record, every other night is bath night, in which I wash their hair. After every bath, their hair is brushed, and every morning, their hair is brushed). It also had nothing to with the extended blame game where I am somehow responsible for her losing money because she has to stay home with the children. Yeah, both of those statements just made me happy as ham to be cordial and understanding towards her. What absolutely fascinates me, is that in the world of cause and effect, she sees only effect, and makes the inexplicable assumption that said effect, is somehow square one. Cause? Doesn't exist. Not in her world, especially if that cause can in any way be tied to her.

So, as is our dance, the conversation continued to spiral out of control (and to be fair, I certainly poured my share of accelerant on the blaze), until such time as I decided to simply hang up on the shrieking harpy on the other end. Now, I've never been a "hang up" sort of guy. She, on the other hand . . . while not a guy, has always been fond of the passive-aggressive (ironic, since such a term is her favorite label for me) hang-up. I have to say, it's rather satisfying to finally dish out to her, what I've so often been the recipient of. I digress . . . . she then called back. I was away from my desk, where my cell phone sat. So when I returned I was treated to a voice mail from her whereby she was clearly upset, and in tears, and trying the "soft", pleading approach. So, I called her back.

I'm sure at this point, those reading this may be shaking their heads.

Rest your trigger on my finger, bang my head upon the fault line.

At that point, the conversation only devolved into me piling point upon point of contention on her. I have a lot to say her. It's very similar to the first Matrix movie . . . I've taken the red pill, and now I can finally see the false reality that was my existence . . . and I'm pissed. The problem is, it's an exercise in complete futility, as she would never, could never, will never, ever admit a modicum of responsibility for anything. If she ever does, it's with hundreds of tiny little filaments of absolution attached. Filaments that resemble spider silk . . . . hard to see with the naked eye, but there just the same. Eventually it was her turn to hang up mid-sentence. Fine. Better this way.

So, I went out for a smoke to reflect on the exchange. I see how it goes all sideways. Part of it is that she doesn't communicate by the accepted standards of social interaction. You know, a civil, logical, productive exchange of ideas between two people who value their good standing with the opposite party. I replayed her tone and attitude over in my head from the first phone conversation. I wondered if she could see the belligerence and acrid abrasiveness of her approach. How, I'm certain that she would never think to approach her co-workers in such a manner, and expect that they would continue to treat her with due politesse and respect.

The other part, is that I'm am more than happy to strap on the armor, sharpen the axe, and wade into the fray. There are a great number of points and statements she deserves to hear. Now, I fully realize that anything having to do with our past relationship is invalid and pointless. I'm actually talking about our children. There are so many "wrongs" that she needs to answer to (our youngest being brought back to her by the police . . . her letting small children fend for themselves while she sleeps all day . . . her besieging a 5 and 8 year old with the stresses of her financial woes . . . and on and on)

After I returned, I decided to send her an e-mail. The essential gist of the e-mail explained, in simple terms, that if she desired a cordial, productive co-parenting relationship with me, she was going to have to be cordial. That, as we were no longer married, I am under no obligation to put up with her shit, and continue smiling while she serves me a second helping. Oddly, in her surrealistic and frankly delusional blog, this was translated into "If I don't play by his rules, I'm not rewarded with his humanity". Yes, actually genius, you're correct. However, what she fails to realize, is that's how the WORLD operates. I can't walk up to some guy, kick him in the balls, and then get mad at him when he punches me in the mouth. Who in the hell doesn't realize this? How absolutely insane must one be for this common reality to somehow not exist for them?

With that, in keeping with my intention to provide a running defense to her moon-bat rantings, I will respond to her bizarrely paranoid and borderline blog entries in-line, here (my responses will be in blue, for ease of digestion):

HE's Trying To Kill Me, I Know It - Through slow, meticulous mental cruelty. He even said to me today that he knew he'd be able to raise the kids, he had faith in his ability to do so, insinuating should ANYTHING happen to me.

Actually what I said was, that her financial situation was no longer my concern, and that as far as the girls went, if their well-being was in question because of her inability to care for them, I had no problem raising them on my own. Essentially, I was pre-empting (though she never raised the point, to be fair) any "If you cared about the wellfare of your children, then you'd care about my situation" arguments.

(last time he gave them back to me they were both sick for a week and I had to miss 4 days of work, putting a HUGE financial burden on me)

No, your decision to be a professional babysitter is what has placed a HUGE financial burden on you. It's ALL about choices.

"*i*'m not the one who chose to go to art school"...he likes that one, so he can throw the fact that I can't make the same money as him in my face.

I like that one because I'm trying, for some odd reason, to teach her that the choices she has made, has constructed her current existence. The people around her, in her life, are not responsible for her, or how her life has developed.

He seems to have a selective memory about at one time LOVING that I was who I was, an artist, and went to art school and SUPPORTED my art career and told me for YEARS that I didn't have to worry about working but could pursue my art.

And she seems to forget that her circumstances have changed. Yes, I loved the novelty of her being an artist. It *seemed* cool and special. I am, however shocked (though I know it was unintentional) that she's finally admitted that I funded her dream. Here's the thing, lots of people have dreams. I'd love to be a writer. Nevertheless, dreams don't pay the bills. Thus, most people maintain a healthy balance of paying the bills with profitable careers, while slowly developing their dreams. A select, fortunate few are eventually able to transfer their efforts solely into their dreams because of the financial viability of their dreams. She, on the other hand, seems to foster this juvenile belief that the world owes her the prosperity that comes with making wise choices, whilst she skips off into dreamland. When that fragile reality is shattered by the circumstances of the real world, someone must be at fault . . . lately, that someone is me.

I'm not a victim, I AM working...working my ass off. worked a 12 hour day yesterday as a matter of fact. Is THAT a lazy, gold-digging, do nothing person? Is THAT someone who doesn't give a shit about taking care of what I need to take care of?

No, that's someone who hasn't fully realized the axiom, "work smart, not hard". Yeah, I could go put in 18 hours at McDonald's, and be the best damn burger flipper the world has ever seen. Does that entitle me to success and prosperity? No. Wise and prudent career choices allow some of us to work not with the sweat of our brow, but with the natural product of our intellect. One would think the pseudo-intellect that I used to be married to would somehow put that together.

He likes to accuse me of all sorts of things, all of which I do NOT spend time justifying because he is NOT my judge or jury, but in the end this only serves his further beliefs in my inabilities and lowliness as a human being. He is NOT my God, I do NOT have to make excuses for myself or my actions to him.

Yikes . . . seriously . . . complex of persecution anyone? She is absolutely correct. She owes me no explanation. However, everyone is their own person, and no one needs be forced to put up with less than acceptable treatment from anyone. Correct she can do as she wishes . . . but those actions/words have consequences. Usually, those consequences entail me treating her in a like fashion. Novel, I know.

I have found out that my EX may have had a big hand in the solidification of the breakup of B and I. He told me today that he and B had LONG conversations about me, in which they spoke about my "bad choices". I'm sure he made many a comment to sooth B's insecurities about me...yes yes, you are RIGHT to feel that way about her...Of course, I'm sure B was happy to have a sympathetic ear to complain to about me. The Denise Hate Club grows...

I can't help but laugh a little inside. This is where I've finally (with outside help) come the conclusion that not only is ______ bipolar, borderline personality disorder, and possesses a victim complex, but she's become paranoid as well. The conversations that I had with "B" were nothing of the sort that is being painted here. In fact, I really, really liked that guy, and I was frequently painting the scenario to him as "when she seeks help, and regains some of her health, I'm sure the two of you . . . ". I WANTED the two of them to make it. All for one selfish reason: When they were together, she was far easier to deal with and talk to. In fact, "B", her, myself, and my girlfriend all attended a birthday party for my eldest together. We all had a great time. It was fantastic. I wish that could exist again. But alas, they broke up, and I'm left with this bizarre, surrealistic wreck of a person that is impossible to reason with. To demonstrate how off the mark she is . . . when she was committed to a mental institution for suicidal tendancies, I quickly went into action to try and make sure her business was taken care of. I went to her landlord to let them know that she would be a bit late on rent (Usually, if you let them know ahead of time, they're far more understanding than if you simply don't pay). I went to her employer and let them know that she was sick and in the hospital, being VERY careful not to let them know the nature of her issue, as I figured it would put her job at risk. I made sure to let her closest friend and family know about her situation so that they could provide assistance as necessary . . . somehow though, all of that means I'm out to get her. Can you say paranoid?

Oh yes, he's a nice guy. "I'd like to have a nice relationship with you where I CARE about you..." subtext, but you MUST play by MY rules at ALL times and never step out of line or have a contrary opinion, because if you DO, I will make you PAY. And THAT he does.

No different than the rest of the world. If you want cordial, beneficial interactions with people on the street, you can't start by insulting them. It just doesn't work that way.

So, here I am again, missing work, lost medical benefits, out of medication, won't be able to pay my bills...and this is NOT playing a victim

Actually, by definition, yes it is.

Because if person after person who once said, no VOWED, that they would love you and cherish you and never wanted to see harm come to you, then are wishing you ill will or not caring about you or judging you, then maybe they are RIGHT and maybe you don't deserve to be breathing

This is where she now starts to really spin up the public relations machine. Allow me to say (and I mean every word - c'mon, I've happily been as stark and brutal as I wanted to be in this blog so far, I have no reason to stop now) that I truly wish her no harm. My statement about "not caring" was made in context of where my priorities are. My priority is the current love of my life who actually reciprocates, and my children. Period. With that said, I can't express enough how much I wish she'd get into seriously intensive therapy and truly come out of the ashes as a self aware, healthy person. It's actually somewhat painful to watch the trainwreck that is her. Especially when I had such high hopes for her at one time. Now all I have is mounting evidence that she is only going to accelerate her unstoppable self-destruction.

CLEARLY there is nothing lovable about someone like me.

If I had a penny for every time I responded to statements like these (while we were together) until I was blue in the face, trying to talk her down from the ledge . . . . I swear to God . . .

And selfishly I hope that you might hold on too. Perhaps secretly I hope that you will do more than hold on, perhaps I hope that you will GRASP tightly, and maybe even pull in, towards yourself...don't LET me go.

To those she is addressing let me say . . . I did the very thing she is begging for now, for over seven years. Such a thing is clearly not what is needed to make her a whole, healthy person. I don't know what will, but I know that approach has already been worn thin, to no effect.

Google Hates Me

Apparently Google and PETA are in league, and I've angered them. How else do you explain the ad on the left hand side of my blog? CUTE RAT BABIES?!?!? REALLY!?!?! Sigh . . . someone read my blog, and now they're trying to get me to support the rat-that-I-killed's babies.

Is selling me a rat baby really a good idea? Clearly I don't feed them right . . . mine always get wobbly, fall over, and die.

The Undeniable, Harsh Truth

In the midst of our Nation's worst economic crisis since The Great Depression, there is rampant banter amongst the pundits, talking heads, and around the water cooler surrounding the perceived architects of this disaster. The Big Three automakers, mortgage lenders, Ponzi schemes, vast golden parachutes. . . . all of the apocalyptic harbingers and their doomsday machines. However, I know that many people know very well that while the popular focal points of this economic collapse certainly deserve their infamous spotlight, none of them would have been able to thrive without the dimwitted, greedy American consumer merrily tilling the soon to be fallow soil.

Allow me to admit that I am not an economist. I am not a political scientist. In fact, I've never been to college. So take my comments for what they're worth.

There once was a time where "want" and "need" were separate and distinct. Where, when you set your sights on an item, be it a house, new washer, car, etc, you took stock in your savings account. Now . . . we look at the pile of credit card statements to see which one has the most room left on it. Why? Well, by God, because you're entitled to that new car! Can't afford it? Well hell, lease it! You didn't have the foresight to save 20% for a down payment on a house, and simply can't be bothered to save that money? Any strip mall shark will be able to set you up with a killer sub-prime loan! Equity? Unnecessary.

The nineties ushered in an era of unprecedented overnight millionaires, surfing the wave of mind-numbing technological advances. The birth and freakish growth of the Internet created a mass of wealth and opportunity that injected every other industry with a seemingly endless supply of capital. Unfortunately, that prosperity exorcised the ghosts of The Depression and other such economic downturns, instilling the belief that this period of success was indestructible.

Like Pinocchio in the pool hall, we were completely immersed in self-gratification, consumption, and the delirium of a good time that would never end. Appropriate to this analogy is the systemic move towards what is essentially, slave labor. While we know that slavery has been replaced by a "fair wage" in this country, such is not the case across the globe.

Countries like China, Mexico, and India aren't exactly hotbeds of worker's rights. There are no unions, or civil liberties organizations that hold any modicum of sway to force a fair wage, benefits, or remotely humane working conditions upon the companies operating there. All of this translates into crazy profits for any American corporation willing (and which of them aren't?) to do business there.

Now, I do blame some of this on our own system of unions. I believe that while there was a time that workers' unions were not only beneficial, but vital, that time has long since passed. Unions have grown quite powerful, but have not cultivated the reserve and judgment to go with it, leading to U.S. companies being strong-armed and backed into corners. In order to defend their market share and profit margins, these corporations have successfully lobbied against tariffs and taxes that would have otherwise prevented them from shipping jobs and factories overseas. With this move, they no longer have to be concerned with unions, and now those unions get to figure out what to do without jobs to unionize.

When you have the option of paying a full time employee a fully realized cost of $162.00/hr (this includes salary, benefits, etc) for tech support that can be done remotely by a vendor in India for fully realized cost of around $40/hr, it's not hard to see why the tech sector suffers some of the worst unemployment rates. Apply that same example to the manufacturing industry, to include automotive . . . and it's no wonder we're in this quandry.

At the other end of this is consumer demand. Everyone wants to pay $2.00 for a pair of flip-flops from Wal-Mart, and $6 for a shovel from any of the big box home improvement stores. The thought of having to pay a reasonable price, for reasonable goods is a dead way of living. My grandfather was a stonemason who owned his own company. When he bought tools, or nearly anything, he bought the best quality that seemed reasonable for the price. His philosophy was simple: Pay a bit more now to buy this item once, or pay for a cheaper item over and over and over again. In the long run, paying a bit more not only saves money, but also secures our country's industry it turns out.

All of this turmoil has been brought about, in part, by the fact that the American consumer feels entitled to everything for super cheap without a wise regard for quality, a compassionate regard for the plight of others, or an intelligent regard for future financial planning. I fully realize that this is an oversimplification, and that America isn't the only country behaving in this manner.

Spending your money wisely doesn't just mean getting the best possible deal. It also means weighing the implications of where your money is going, and whether or not that money will continue to circulate in a fashion that is beneficial to your local and national economy.

In My Next Blog

The next blog entry I will be publishing will be detailing my thoughts on our current economic crisis. In it, I will point the finger for this mess in a very unpopular direction . . . stay tuned.

The End

I have been trying to get the blog caught up with what's happening real time, with regards to the divorce. I have not been able to, and now the divorce is pretty much over. So now, I'm left with a lack of compulsion to continue writing about this miserable, pointless chapter, but yet have all of the "good stuff" yet to write. So, I am going to compress the story further and essentially detail the ending, including all of the sordid hearing details.

When I initially left ______, I had continued to pay all of the bills, as well as give her something like 80% of the remainder of my paycheck. At that point, I was essentially sleeping in my car, in my office, and on friends' couches. Eventually, I found a super cheap place to rent, which was rather nice. At this point, I had to essentially nag _______ to get a job. In a addition to the $2600/mth mortgage, I was also paying her $2000/mth. That's right, nearly as much as a mortgage, but not nearly as useful. Of course, she dragged her feet in finding a job, yet somehow continued finding the energy to complain about her financial situation (this is not uncommon, she does after all like to consider herself "complex").

She did eventually, get a job. Then there was the matter of selling the house. This was a huge pain in the ass because I chose to let her stay there while we were trying to sell it. Again, dragging her feet the whole way. She would complain she didn't have the time, yet she had plenty of time to take trips up to Canada (though not to see her family - can't imagine why *they're* upset).

So, all this time, I'm giving her 78% of my paycheck, you would think that she might start thinking about, oh I don't know . . . the future when that would no longer be true? As I continued to be a sucker, I decided to give her my $6000.00 bonus from work, to be used for moving expenses, first and last months rent, etc. However, knowing her penchant for blowing money on wonderfully useful things like round beds (no lie) and such, I voiced my concern. This is that conversation, unedited, with only my name to maintain anonymity. It should also be noted the "Crazy as Always" is the moniker she chose for herself:

A. Blues says:However, I understood that money was going to either moving costs (eventually), or your bachelor's degree.

Crazy as always says:so give me what you're going to give me from that and it doesn't matter what I spend

Crazy as always says:yes, well, should I never have any life? Do I get punished

Crazy as always says:do I not desserve to be a human being?

A. Blues says:Well, but it kind of does. Eventually you're going to need moving expenses, and now that we have the big chunk of money, it would be wise to use it now.

A. Blues says:It's not about that _______, it's about making wise financial decisions at a time when we're separating our household, and will eventually be strapped.

Crazy as always says:yes, well, I'm not planning on blowing it all either....but if you are going to give me money, then give it to me and I will work out how I'm going to use it for my move and my courses and also have a little bit of a life, just a little, because i'm no good as a mother if I never have fun and am just secluded and sad all the time

Crazy as always says:why would you give me this money if it was going to leave "us" strapped?

A. Blues says:OK, I just simply don't want the time to come for you to move, and then have an unexpected request from you for more money to cover your move and expenses. That's my main goal there.

Crazy as always says:don't worry, the very LAST THING IN THE WORLD I want from you is to be more dependant on you!!!!!!!

A. Blues says:I'm just voicing my concerns ________, please don't be offended.

Crazy as always says:I am offended, but that's not your concern

A. Blues says:Well it is, because I suffer your mood.

Crazy as always says:no you don't, I know how to be offended and civil, as long as you don't continue to make hurtful comments

A. Blues says:Remember, I'm simply trying to be very clear and honest about where my head is at, so as to avoid misunderstandings.

Crazy as always says:just make your comment and drop it

Crazy as always says:yes, I know where your head is at...I sincerely wonder if you know where mine is at to be making the comments you make about me...but that doesn't matter. I know myself, I know my integrity, my abilities, my strength

Crazy as always says:and I will surprise you

A. Blues says:My comment had nothing to do with that ______. Are you going to deny that the bonus money has often been frittered away, with the items it was intended for left unattended because of it?

Crazy as always says:I did pretty good without you for most of my adult life

Crazy as always says:that was when we were married and the furure was secure....my future is not secure

So, as you can see she not only saw that money as her right to fun, but apparently, as long as I had been employed while we were married, she had no reason at all to be an intelligent consumer, and plan for things like . . . oh, I don't know . . . THE FUTURE.

Sigh, though I also must take responsibility for allowing such ridiculously juvenile attitudes towards money, and even in some cases, encouraging it.

She eventually used that money to complete her amazingly useful bachelor's degree in fine arts. Wow, that's some forward thinking there. Of course, I'll not bother you with the many, many rants about how I was robbing her of her dream to get a Masters in fine arts. Robbing her? Masters in fine arts? Hell, I think at some point, I'll present her with a bill for my services as a life coach and financial planner.

After that, there was the sale of the house, which garnered 16K in net profit. Pretty slim, though with the economy and the housing market being where it was at the time, I was lucky to get out from under that albatross at all. Again being driven by my misplaced altruism, and to be fair a need to get her to accept the sale price, I offered her 100% of the profit. Sixteen thousand dollars (much more fun to type it out long hand . . . go ahead, try it). Do you know what she did with that money in roughly six months? Yeah, neither does anyone else. *Poof*. Gone. Maybe she found that in order to be a good mother, and an honest to God human being, she needed a trapezoidal sofa.

I'll tell you what she didn't do with it. She didn't buy a reliable car to replace the engineering abortion she's driving now. She also didn't use it to ensure that she has an emergency fund for when she's committed to a mental facilitiy under a 5150 for suicidal tendencies, and needs to pay her bills. I'm pretty sure she didn't use it to go see her family in Canada. She also didn't use it . . . bah, you get the picture.

There are piles of little things as well . . . from the time she took money out of my checking account (she still had access), to the fact that I had to shoulder the entire cost of mediation (and my atty's actually had to pay for her parking - a week after she took herself and the girls to dinner and a movie), to her not paying for our eldest's school lunches, to the charity she signed up for still being taken out of my account, and on and on and on.

Comes the day that the final divorce paperwork is ready to be signed. I had been paying her $1000/mth at this point, and told her that I would continue. However, calculations done by my atty based on state law suggest that an order of around $400/mth would be feasible, since I have them half the time. You see, when you're a half-time parent, you're responsible for half of the children's care. Well, I have them half the time, thus I am maintaining half of their care. So, I deliver the papers to her at her work, where I pick up our youngest (____ works at the daycare where our youngest goes). My atty had mentioned that if I got the papers back to him signed by a certain amount of time, we could avoid going to court at all, and the expense that incurs.

_______ continued to do this weird, not look at me thing, and not contact me thing. So, a couple of days later I go in there, and the conversation goes like this:

Me: "You, uh, have those papers?"
Her: "Nope"

Me: "Do you know when you will?"
Her: "I'm not going to, we're going to court" (said in a rather self-satisfied tone)

Me: "Oh . . . good luck" (said in a responding sarcastic tone)

That and me calling her an idiot on her blog somehow in the chemically muddled reasoning center of what passes as her brain, formed the basis of her seeking an anti-harassment order. When I went to pick up my youngest from day care, she had her co-worker serve me. The interesting part is that her co-worker is not a process server, so she had no idea which papers to give me, and which ones she was absolutely not supposed to give me. One such paper is the information sheet in the event you're having a deputy server the papers. It lists things such as physical description, car description, employment address, etc. Something else it lists is whether or not the recipient is likely to react violently when served, and whether or not the recipient owns a firearm (I do). Now, both of those items, if they had been given to law enforcement, would have likely made for a wildly fun evening. This was taking all of this to a new level.

If she had simply confronted me about the amount, we could have talked. Instead, she chose to play the c**t card, and treat this like some bizarre Jerry Springer divorce. Point of note, of the two of us, the only person guilty of domestic violence . . . is her. Three separate incidents: 1. shoved me into a wall, while attempting to prevent me from walking out the door, 2. attempted to hold a door shut to prevent me from leaving, and 3. While standing over me, with her fist about 6 - 8 inches from my face, stated "I'd like to punch you in the mouth/nose" (don't remember which). Any one of those would have landed me in jail.

Did I also mention that she tried to pull some slick maneuver by having me served the evening before the hearing? LOL, I will assume that was on the advice from her "Facebook Legal team". Another interesting point of note, that would have been enough alone to simply have it continued. However, since I decided having a legal team would be a good idea, it was no problem at all. I called my atty, they met with me that night at a Starbuck's near my house, where I gave him all of the material he'd need to defend it (although, he never had to use it, fortunately for her).

So, the judge threw it out, and she was miffed. You see, during the couple of hours it took for our case to be heard, my atty and I had a good time chatting, joking, and sharing various stories. Well, you can bet this insecure, fragile ego could hear the chuckles, and could just be SURE we were laughing at her (we weren't). So, she decides to ambush my atty after he comes out of the bathroom at the end of it all. She reads him the riot act, where she threatens everything from suing me for everything to hiring an atty, etc. Unfortunately for her, my atty actually practices law, and didn't just read about it from divorce material handed out at the information booth in the courthouse, or from the Internet. Turns out, earlier he had her sign the final papers in all matters except the child support. There was no arguing any of the other points. Oh, a beautiful thing. My atty did some other rather interesting things as well, but nothing I want to divulge here. Suffice it say, if you're getting divorced, GET AN ATTY.

In mediation, we settled on $800/mth in child support. As it turns out, I made out quite, quite well, and there is yet more to come. Since she decided to make this into such a nasty thing, I've decided I am only paying her $800/mth. Ironic huh?

So there it is, that petty, stupid story is done. I'll post responses to anything mildly interesting about me from her blog, in an effort to maintain some record of defense. Aside from that, this is the final Divorce chapter.

Who's in more pain?

Allow me to begin by stating that I have nothing against rats. In fact, I find them rather cute, furry, and delightful. That is, until they start eating my car. I have a 1967 Ford Galaxie XL convertible:

I'm still in the process of restoring it. Currently, it sits in my driveway, under a tarp and cover. It needs a new top, new window motors (electric windows, on a car over 40 years old, gotta love that!), and a laundry list of other things as long as it is.

Now, on to the rat. Recently I've discovered that rats are beginning to chew up the underside of the back seat, the carpet, and various other things. Not to mention, they apparently don't abide by the axiom "Don't shit where you eat". Now that my beloved car is a biological hazard, I figured it's time to take action against the rats. So, I've placed little trays of delicious rat food around the property. Of course, the delicious rat food just happens to be laced with a chemical that coagulates their blood . . . but I've found that rats with coagulated blood don't seem to be interested in chewing on cars. Or anything else for that matter.

This morning, I walk to the garbage can (which is near one of the trays of poison), and there's my foe. He/she is sitting there on the sidewalk, wobbling, and peering at me, as if to ask for some Pepto to go with the meal I provided. I hang my head, and wander back into the house. When I return later, the rat is gone, thankfully. I'm now saved from witnessing the horrible fate I've visited on this poor little furry creature (and yes, I must say, quite cute).

Now, I'm an avid hunter, fisherman, etc. I don't generally have a problem killing animals. However, when I do, it's usually for the purpose of eating them. While I realize that poisoning rats is a fairly common pasttime, I can't help but feel absolutely horrible about it.

I've gone out again, and now this doomed critter is sitting in front of my porch. Still wobbling, still dying . . . slowly. I've considered putting him/her out of its misery, but the only fashion in which I feel like doing so involves a loud report, and likely a police report as well. I just can't bring myself to now bludgeon this thing to death.

So, here I sit . . . . hoping that this thing's constitution is just about evaporated, like so much of its blood. I half expect that the next time I walk out there, it'll be sitting there ON my porch dead, with an apology note in it's cute little paws. Sigh.