Today’s Post Is Brought To You By The Letters F and U

Oh, yes, another rant about how much I despise the idgets around me. But it’s affecting my mental health so it’s relevant.

I spent many, many years of my life in relationships where I did most of the giving, they did the taking, and if I expressed my discontent, then they played the “you’re demanding and crazy card.”
Out of those ashes came my current self: Quid Pro Quo Girl.
It was one of my worst traits according to The Donor. (Idget of the decade.)
It’s what’s kept me able to share my sandbox with others.
But if they’re not playing fair in the sandbox, I get like…furiously angry. Shovel wielding angry.

Yesterday was tough. My kid came back from Mom’s with a defiant attitude and it was just made worse. I put her in my bed in hopes she’d stop acting out and go to sleep. Instead she kept popping up like a maniacal Jack In The Box. I got up to go to the bathroom and got the Spanish Inquisition. I went to get water, she wanted some. I sat up because my back hurt, there she was sitting up. The nearer it got to nine p.m. the more fed up I became.
Then the phones started ringing. And I blew them off. Figured it was my dad wanting to rant about my mom’s attitude yesterday and I had nothing left to give anyone, not even a listening ear.
Who knew failing to answer one call from a person would result in such vitriol.
Oh, wait, this is a repeat from 2013 because this idget never changes his narcissistic tune.

I got a nasty text from R stating “I can only ASSUME I will see you tomorrow.”
So I sent back, “Snarky much I had a bad day, was zoning.?” Because I didn’t get the tone of that text. I hadn’t done anything wrong. And I loathe text messaging anyway.
To which he replies, “You didn’t answer your phone, as usual.”
I missed ONE call from him in one day.
Are you fucking serious? You call at nearly 9pm, waking my kid just as she was calming down, and I told you I had a bad day, and I’d honor my end of the deal, and not so much as a “sorry you had a bad day.” NOOOOOO. Just more venom for not answering my phone on command because he is so fucking important.
God, this has been going on for three years. Yet I see him dodge calls from customers all the time and it’s fine for him because he’s busy and has other things going on.
He has one set of rules for himself and another set for everyone else.
He’s like a fucking child. Maybe that’s why he seems so disdainful toward my kid. She’s stealing his five year old thunder with her own unreasonable trantrum like demands.
Last time he pulled this shit about me never answering my phone, I didn’t speak to him for five months. Idget.
But I assumed he probably had a rough weekend and was halfway drunk by that point so rather than perpetuate it, I just let his last text stand. Because if he thought I was being acidic,he ain’t seen nothing yet.
I can handle flaws. Quirks.
But not playing fair because you think you are more important than me…
Fuck YOU.

I don’t think I am being unreasonable. My home life is my home life. If I don’t want to answer my phone, I don’t have to and I shouldn’t be made to feel like a bad person for missing ONE call.
It’s hard enough with all my own mental crap.
Surrounded by unsupportive self absorbed people who make unreasonable demands…
It’s not “Why is she fucked up.”
It’s more, “How has she not ended up in a clocktower with a high powered rifle?”

So needless to say, that whole thing with him got my anger raging and that resulted in anxiety and I couldn’t get to sleep for shit. It was so late when I did, I hit snooze six times this morning.
Now I have to go paste on the happy face and pretend I’m not pissed as hell at him just so I can get a medicine that might give me my life back.
This is why I don’t like asking anyone for anything. Even if they are getting something in return they think by helping you out, they own you.

I feel volatile but resigned.
I don’t want to get dressed because all the laundry remains unfolded in five basket which means it will be a “where’s waldo” mission with underwear and such. I have let some housework slide because try as I might, I can’t keep up and everyone is so quick to tell me how bad a housekeeper I am, I get to the “why fucking bother” point.
And the laughable part is my mother has only been to my place maybe ten times in six years and EVERY single time she declares the place smells like cat pee.
Yet I went to sit on their sofa yesterday and not only did it smell like cat pee, it was actually stiff and caked in spots where so many of the animals had used it as a toilet. Where the fuck do they get off judging me? My cats don’t pee on the furniture.

GRRRR. So many people not playing fair in the sandbox.
I want them out of my sandbox, out of my fucking orbit.
Odd because last week when R was good about my car breaking down and fixing it, I thought we’d made some progress in him not being such a dick to me.
I was wrong.
Just like giving that other “friend” the benefit of the doubt and being proven exactly right to remain isolated and misanthropic.


It’s not that I think all people are bad. But every counselor I’ve ever had has made it abundantly clear that I am more of a funky city personality and I am surrounded by small town people with small minds so it’s unlikely I will ever find a meeting of the minds. Simple, move, right?
If only there wasn’t the whole issue of not having money and not being stable enough to earn some.

On top of all this, one of my three week old kittens has encephaly. However it’s spelled. He has a soft spot in his head, cross eyed, is basically blind and can’t walk right. I don’t know what to do. End his suffering? That costs money. Some cats have survived it, do I just wait? He’s just cute as a button, if a little odd looking. He’s made it three weeks and is very active.

See I have all this shit in my life and people who think I should just drop everything and tend to their unreasonable demands at unreasonable hours and it’s really making me crack my lids.

I gotta do that where’s waldo thing for clothes before the phone starts ringing again for round two of “how dare you not take my call one time because I am the greatest thing since tapioca.”

F. U.

5 Responses to “Today’s Post Is Brought To You By The Letters F and U”

  1. Let’s call him R Sole. I think it sounds very apt. Now I have to confess to laughing twice and hope ot doesn’t piss you off (ppl always say I’m funny when I’m angry, I think you and I may share that skill)(maybe we should be comedians)(or assassins). Where was I? Your title made me lol and so did your clocktower remark. As for mister R Sole, he’s acting like a little bitch. If I’m ever in the area I’ll go and smack him around the head with a fish.

    • The title was meant to evoke smirks. I love mocking kids’ shows. Like Dorka The Explorer. So that was my tip of the hat to Sesame Street. Since the nazi moms started hating on Cookie Monster for his unhealthy diet though it makes him seem wayyy cooler. I have issues with authority. And R Sole fits. Arsehole. He fancies himself british because his ancestors were, he’d probably take it as a compliment.

      On Mon, Apr 6, 2015 at 7:43 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


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