Clusterfuck moving weekend

Scrub, Big Daddy and Little Scrub will be living near me in just a couple of weeks when they leave Texas behind and close on their new house here.

Having their two favorite daughters (I'm the favorite of course, then Scrub, with our oldest sister so far off the favorite chart she's lucky to still be considered part of the damn family), in the same place proved to be too much temptation for our parents. They put their house on the market. Scrub and I weren't worried though. Nah. We thought it would take a while for them to sell since they live in the fucking middle of nowhere. But within a motherfucking month the house had already gone under contract, and the new owner wanting possession ASAP. Cue the anxiety attacks for Scrub and I. Especially for Scrub though. Our parents move here the same weekend Scrub and her family are moving. So what does the Bitch household do? Offer up our house for that weekend so everyone has someplace to stay while they close on a new house, or in our parent's case sign a rental lease.

"Are you out of your goddamn ever loving fucking mind?" yelled Dickhead when I told him.

"Relax" was my response, "That's the weekend of Bestie's baby girl's 1st birthday party. We absolutely can't miss it....so we'll be five hours away while the clusterfuck moving weekend happens. Besides, I'm previewing places for mom and dad so they can sign without seeing it and just move the fuck in."

Dickhead's lightbulb went on as his pea brain processed what that meant. "So, we won't have to help with moving weekend? Not even a little?" At my confirmation he exclaimed "Fucking A!"

That's right Dickhead, fucking A! Sorry Scrub, not sorry.

Oh, you wouldn't put up with that stuff? STFU

I haven't posted yet about the Ray Rice "beating the fuck out of his then fiance, now wife" incident, but those of you who've been with me since the early days of this page know how I feel about domestic abuse and the shit stains who put their hands on their spouse, partner or children in anger.

I've watched in amazement and disappointment over the last few days as friends in my newsfeed have blasted Janay, the victim, and said she deserves what she gets since she decided to marry the fuckwad anyway, and she deserves no sympathy.

Wrong. No one ever, let me fucking repeat myself, EVER deserves to be beaten. To be kicked, punched, spat on, mentally, and emotionally broken down until they can see no way out. That kind of ignorance that I saw in my feed of blaming the victim and judging her for being in that situation—yes I call it fucking ignorance—is what allows scum shit like Ray Rice and other abusers to isolate their victims. LOOK at Janay's face in the press conference where Ray Rice apologized for his actions...to the public, but not to Janay. LOOK at the fear on her face.

AP photo found on WBAL News Radio 1090 

Domestic violence is NEVER ok. I grew up in a home with domestic violence. I watched first hand how my mother tried time and again to leave my stupid sack of shit asshole douchebag stepfather that beat her, me and my little sister, Scrub. I watched that motherfucker throw knives at her, pull a shotgun on her. I watched my baby sister get tied up like a fucking hog and gagged when she was a toddler so "daddy could enjoy his peace and quiet while mommy was gone."

I was there when my mom tried to ask for help and was turned away. By her own fucking family. She married the asshole and needed to learn how to control him. Yeah, how fucked up is that shit? I was there when the police officers wouldn't take her beatings seriously. I was there when my mom would hide her bruises. I was hiding mine along with her. I was there when my mom felt she had no goddamn way out. I was there each time she attempted to leave and got beaten down even more.

Did you know it takes ON AVERAGE seven attempts for an abuse victim to leave their abuser successfully....or wind up dead.

I was there when mom kicked him out for good. I was there when that psychotic fuck came with a knife and gun and cut our fucking phone lines so we couldn't call for help, and he went around trying to break into our house.

Just the other day my mom called to tell me the fucking nut job had died. You know what I felt? After years of wondering if he would catch up with us? After years of avoiding using my maiden name and protecting my identity as much as possible in public forums like social networking sites? I felt RELIEF. Relief for my mother that she wouldn't get anymore surprise phone calls again from him after repeatedly changing numbers...even after getting remarried. Relief he wouldn't some day show up where I live. Relief my kids and my sister and her family were safe. My next thought was "I hope he suffered." I hope he suffered painfully in his death. If there is anyone on this earth that I can honestly say should burn in a hell of lava shit, it's him.

You. don't. know. what a victim has been through emotionally and mentally. Oh, you wouldn't put up with that stuff? Good for you. Have a motherfucking cookie, sit down and shut the fuck up for a moment. Open your eyes to something other than the sheltered fucking world you know.

When I read those statuses judging Janay, blaming her for "her part in this" by staying with a feces covered dick like Ray Rice, I was angry. That fear on her face? I saw it day after day in my own home. I wore that look myself. After taking some time to think about what my friends had written, women I consider kindhearted which made it even harder to swallow the shit they wrote, I knew I needed to break that ignorance they had displayed.

I hope this posts gets through to as many of you reading it as possible. Share it. You don't know who in your newsfeed is dealing with abuse. You think you know what someone else is going through? I guarantee you don't know half of it.

Domestic violence is never okay. Help break the cycle. Don't empower the abuser and isolate the victim.

Resources for victims and survivors:

The National Domestic Violence Hotline

NO MORE | Together We Can End Domestic Violence & Sexual Assault

WomensLaw.org

Nominated for the ice water challenge - f*ck that!

Everyone is still dumping ice on their fucking heads for that ALS charity challenge. Guess who got nominated? Yep, this Bitch. Guess who didn't do it? If you said this Bitch, you'd be right again.

Are you feeling like I'm an asshole yet? Of course you are. Do I care? Fuck no. ZFG. Look, it's a great charity. I'm not going to knock it. How many people are participating though because they feel guilted, not because it's a charity they care about? Did you accept the challenge? Be honest, I won't hate on you.

Here's the motherfucking deal. There is a charity close to my ice cold Bitch heart. This organization is raising awareness for children with CHILDHOOD CANCER. How many people do you know with that scary word....cancer? How many children do you know with CANCER? I know one. He's the precious son of my friend from Facebook's Cowboy Up for a CURE. Drew is only slightly older than Little Shit. When Little Shit is sick and has been in the hospital, Drew sends her pictures of himself with thumbs up and tells her she can do it, she will be okay. Drew and his mom are my heroes.

Picture collage of Drew from Cowboy Up for a CURE website

Want to know what Drew faces every. day. on top of cancer? He faces destruction to his nervous system from the radiation that is saving his life. He faces deterioration of his brain from chemo. He's lost some motor control because the life saving treatment he must take to beat cancer is too harsh for his little body. That life saving treatment is meant for an adult's body.

Most cancer research is not done with children in mind. Therefore when kids get that awful fucking thing called cancer, they must use the same treatment used on adults. More and more kids are diagnosed every. fucking. day. It's time we learn of an acceptable treatment. Because kids get cancer, too.

My dear friend is doing amazing work raising awareness and funds for research specific to childhood cancer. Check out the Cowboy Up for a CURE website. Donate. Or buy a shirt. All proceeds go to support families of those like Drew's and to research.

Poop soul mates

Until this afternoon I was backed up for four horrible goddamn days - my colon that is - due to the hydrocodone for my back. I suffer from IBS - I'm on the diarrhea side of it while Scrub, my sis is on the constipation side. I shit like five times a day and if I don't go for a day then I'm constipated.

***If you've made it this far and feel like I'm oversharing and feel the revulsion rising at this being discussed, well obviously I give zero fucks. You can do yourself a favor, just scroll to the next status. You were warned.***

So back to the subject of my poop chute...I don't feel normal if I don't take a crap on the daily. Dickhead used to get so mad at the amount of time I spend in the bathroom. After more than eleven fucking years you'd think he'd have shut the fuck up about it by now! But recently a GI motility specialist (Little Shit's) explained it to him. So Dickhead gives me less shit about my shit now.

Anyway, until the birth of my 13 inch, weight unknown, turd baby this afternoon I was feeling really fucking awful. But as relief hit me and that fucker slid into the water from my exit hole (would that be considered a water birth?) I messaged my dear friend of You Still Laugh At "Diarrhea". Like the poop soul mates that we are, she was also on the crapper and shared her constipation story with me. It's below.

*******

So there I was after having a baby and I managed to only birth a tiny tiny turd. tiny. Like nothing. I didn't even go poop when I was pushing. But the nurses were satisfied with the tiny tiny turd and all like 'YAY you can go home.'

Well nothing happened when I got home. And I had nothing and nothing but waaaaaaves of pain. And I kept popping percs because of the pain. On day 5 I was sweating bullets TERRIFIED THIS WHOLE TIME OF BUSTING A STITCH because I got the big E (for episotomy) ....and I didn't know the percs would make it worse. Anywho so day 5 I try everything. Chugging metamucil and water and eating prunes and doing an at home enema where NOT A DAMN THING HAPPENED. I called my OB in tears and he told me I can either wait it out at home or I can go to the ER. I went to the ER where I HAD TO GET AN ENEMA. TWICE. And I was STILL BACKED UP. The doctor wanted to go in manually. and dig. So of course I'm like 'this will NOT HAPPEN SIGN ME OUT AMA (against medical advice) IF YOU HAVE TO I'M NOT DOING THAT.' So the doc was like well I understand so they gave me a little to go suppository and told me to come back if I need to.

We go to my parents and pick up the baby and it feels like I need to shit glass this whole entire time, like that whole day and night (it's like 1am at this point and my boobs are leaking ALL OVER THE DAMN PLACE AND EVERYTHING and I'm embarassed and like THIS IS THE WORST THING EVER... ). We get home and baby boy is screaming his head off hungry. I had been having Baby Daddy give him bottles because I was in so much pain. But the urge struck as soon as we walked into the door. I ran. (Cue eye of the tiger music here, I felt like a champ). I hovered over the toilet and the gates of hell opened and my asshole unleashed a fury like never known before. The relief was unlike anything ever and thus the rest of the baby weight was lost.

THE END. *drops mic

*************

I had tears from laughter rolling down my face as I sat in the Cadillac stall of my work restroom reading that shit. I will admit though, my asshole slammed shut at reading the part where they wanted to go in manually and dig. Motherfucker hell NO! But I'm sure my laughter was echoing and could be heard in the goddamn hallway. My laughter is very easily identified so someone walking by would have know immediately it was me. Oh well, ZFG.

I text several of the ladies when I know I'm going to stink it up by dropping a deuce so they can avoid the bathroom for a while. Sometimes I even make a loud announcement on my way in because it kinda grosses the guys out.

There's no shame in my game.

Well that's a real pisser!

Last night's BBQ was pretty fucking epic, only we didn't realize exactly how motherfucking epic until this morning. 

After all the kids went home and were tucked in bed, the adults continued sitting in our driveway shooting the shit and drinking. I was several bottles of wine into the evening, and loud as usual when a lone figure came walking down our street with a dog. When he got closer we realized it was the goddamn President of our Homeowner's Association. A collective groan went up along with some exclamations of "fuck!", "shit", "you gotta be motherfucking kidding me" (mostly from me) as we all assumed a certain asshat crybaby dickwad in the neighborhood must have complained about the noise while secretly crying about being left out. 

Turns out HOA Prezi was just out for a stroll with his dog, and beer, and thought he'd head over for a few rounds with the cool muthafuckas in the hood. 

At some point in our conversation the topic of drugs came up - not like 'hey, let's buy some drugs and get high', but in the way of comparing stupid youthful experimentation. When hallucinogenics were brought up I explained my cheap and legal way of getting a thrill by forcing myself to stay awake after taking Ambien. Prezi's face perked up and he said he'd love to try that. He was so insistent about it that I finally got out my bottle of the amazeballs sleep aid/hallucinogen. 

This motherfucker poured one into his hand and immediately sucked down a full beer. Whoa! He was serious about getting fucked up. About ten minutes later he picked the bottle up and was shaking it. My attention was diverted when I laughed at something Dickhead's bromance said, and Prezi took the opportunity to pop another Ambien. I caught it out of the corner of my eye and busted him out. "Well, shit," he said, "the first one wasn't working so I thought I'd speed it up." I told Prezi he better start heading home or his dog would be dragging him by the leash soon and he'd have one pissed off wife. 

We were still sitting there talking another ten minutes later. Prezi was telling a highly animated story, when suddenly it was lights out. The fucker slumped over, dropped his beer and passed the fuck out. His dog, relaxing by his shit-faced owner's feet, jumped up when the beer got on him. So much for the goddamn story Prezi was telling!

After much discussion by the guys it was decided that they'd drag Prezi's ass into our house and let him sleep it off on the couch. Bromance was to walk the dog back to Prezi's and explain the situation to his wife so she wouldn't be worried that her idiot husband had disappeared or was out sticking his dick where it didn't belong. It took three fucking guys to carry Prezi's dead weight into our house. The dog was going ballistic over seeing his owner being taken away. 

After cleaning up from the party and locking the house up for the night I peeked in on Little Shit and Baby Shit, then laughed as the dead to the world asshole on my couch snored so loud it could have shook the glass in the living room windows. 

Early this morning the little shits came to our bedroom to wake us for breakfast - I'll be sofuckinghappy when they can get their own shit. Their shock at finding someone on our couch was hysterical. Baby Shit's exact words were "What the..... Mommy, there's a man there!" While taking Little Shit potty I heard Prezi stir and I walked into the living room as he looked around bewildered saying "Where the FUCK am I?" Baby Shit echoed him with "Yeah, where the fuck?!"

At the same time I got a text message from Bromance that the dog was out on my front porch. That confused me as he had taken the dog home last night. But whatever....I had a disoriented and probably still drunk asshole to get out of my house. After reuniting Prezi and his dog outside I noticed his shorts were wet. The motherfucker had pissed himself. GODDAMN! That meant he peed on my fucking specially ordered leather couch. 

I ran back inside to confirm that yep, he'd lost control of his urine all over the fucking place while passed out. Son of a bitch! But I can't entirely hate on the crotch nugget as I myself pissed the guest bed at a friend's house once after getting shit-faced. Let me just say though....

I made Dickhead clean up the penis leakage while I texted Bromance about the urination. His response was "This has to be the wildest fucking night we've had in a long time! Prezi's wife wouldn't answer the door so I brought his dog to my house and it ended up getting in bed with us - it was the only way to calm the dog down!" 

So I've had a man pee on my couch, Bromance and his wife had another male in their bed...albeit a dog. And I've had the shits all day from all the wine consumed. All in all, an epic fucking party.