Ack, then I'm not the only one.

I did not say, as I could have quite truthfully, "Well, if your family was so important to you, perhaps you shouldn't have cheated on your husband, then failed to show up to the divorce hearing, where Hubby presented as evidence the wedding announcement for your nuptials that were scheduled for the upcoming weekend."

Not so surprisingly, Hubby was only tagged for child support, as it was obvious the ex had a proven money-making system going--four husbands, four kids, child support from each of them.

Oh, and Wedding #5 did not come off, as Hubby dropped by the site the day of the wedding, introduced himself to the groom with the words, "Good luck, from #4 to #5." Seems Groom was under the impression that the ex had only been married once (she only felt the need to account for however many kids she had living with her at the time). Ex was not pleased with Hubby for scotching her plans.

And yes, I have deep, non-guilt-inducing abhorrence for that female. She makes the entire gender look bad.

Argh, that dalmatian. She's easily excitable, especially when it's time for a T-R-E-A-T. (They get a 1/2 dog cookie at bedtime.) The dalmatian is excitable and can be a loose cannon, and so we toss her cookie on the floor, rather than feed her by hand.

Well, tonight, as I tossed the cookie, she lunged for my hand anyway, and bit the shit out of my finger. Sliced right into it, maybe 1/2 inch long cut. I don't blame her, but I was expecting her to go towards the ground like she normally does when I toss the treat down.

So I'm engaging in the all-too-common Buffista activity of posting about a hand injury, USING the injured hand. It fucking hurts, but I put a lot of pressure on it for 20 minutes, which seems to have closed the gash (I cleaned it and such first), and The Boy put a band-aid on it, butterfly-style, to make sure the gash is pulled together.

I think I'll live. t hand to forehead

But FUCK, it really hurts. If I hadn't already taken Ambien, I'd seriously think about taking one of my squirreled-away percocets (not a whole one; just a 1/2) -- it hurts that bad. She has jaws like an alligator.

She clearly does not grasp the concept of not biting the hand that feeds you. Or perhaps she spurns cliches.

I think the lesson here is that divorce makes you do the wacky.

Indeed, bt!

Steph, bad doggy! That's not supposed to happen. Ouch.

I think the lesson here is that divorce makes you do the wacky.

Seriously. And kids means you can't ever just walk away.

No, bad doggy! No biting the hand that feeds. (I say after giving the cat a few bites of food tonight and getting nipped once. But the food was tiny and I just realized that I needed to not give her a taste for human flesh.) Tep, I hope the hand feels a lot better tomorrow. Ice, Advil and hoping that the Ambien knocks you out fast?

BRAINS...

Great, stopped the cat from eating flesh and zombified Erin... My bad.

Seriously. And kids means you can't ever just walk away.

Well, you can, but its pretty much the ultimate dick move.

Seriously. And kids means you can't ever just walk away.

Oh. Yes. Yes, you can. My mother did.

Turns out, for better or worse, family are just people that you know. What happens next is all about choice.