xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' Yeah. Good Times.: The Dive Bar Welcomes: Jen

Sunday, February 6, 2011

The Dive Bar Welcomes: Jen

Today we have Jen! And that's all the identifying information about her you're going to get. SORRY! And since you're probably wondering, I counted 37 f-bombs in this 4 paragraph rant. Nice work, Jen!

To my bastard of a husband,

Please fucking explain to me how it is O-fucking-K for you to spend almost a thousand fucking dollars on a fucking homebrew conference in fucking Texas for a week, yet when I ask if we can get our autistic kid a fucking iPad, you say it's too much?! It's fucktabulous that fucking beer is more fucking important to you than your child. I am letting you know, get ready to fucking part with that 500 fucking dollars because we are buying this fucking thing if I have to divorce you and use the fucking child support to do it.

Also, can you please stop listening to your fucking sister who has met our kids twice and doesn't even live in this god damn fucking country?! She knows shit about what is going on with our kids and needs to keep her fucking trap shut. And maybe, just maybe, you should give a god damn listen to your fucking wife who has spent 24 fucking 7 with your children since day one, because, surprise fucking surprise, she probably knows a shit ton more about things that you spinster bitch sister.

And, guess-the-fuck what? Yelling and shaming doesn't fucking cure Autism, so cut it the fuck out! I don't know how many more fucking times I have to tell you this before you god fucking damn believe me! Once in a while it would be fucking nice to have you come home from work without a god damn scowl on your fucking face and actually look happy to be here. If you continue to treat me like shit, and the kids like shit, we are getting the fuck out of here and I will take you for every god damn fucking penny you are worth. Yeah, I love you, but I love our kids way fucking more. And your bitch attitude is grating on my last fucking nerve.

Oh, and one last thing. Would it fucking kill you to lift a god damn broom once in a fucking while, or put away a load of your fucking clothes? At this point, I am not a fucking single mother, nor am I your god damn maid, so I expect you to give the fucking brewing message boards a break and help around this fucking place. For fuck's sake!