Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Send the Check Ass-stick

So you pig fuckers at the Washington State Unemployment Office? Any time you want to send my husband's check so I can stop freaking out would be fine with me. His check never came at all last week and is late this week. I make pretty good money but not enough to pay a mortgage, car payment and bills for two people living in one of the most expensive areas in the country.

So our trip this weekend will probably be cancelled. This includes the accompanying photo of his mulleted hillbilly cousin, Billy George.

Do they have to make this process so humiliating for him? He wants a job. He is looking. Believe me he is looking. But since our President has thrown this country into the worse employment situation since the DEPRESSION there haven't been any offers. And it's not like we haven't paid through the nose for unemployment taxes. So just send the goddamn check. No one is going to hire him if we are homeless, living in our beater car, making extra cash by making sweaters out of our dachshund's fur. That looks like ass on a resume.

Had an argument with myself in the car. I like to practice arguing with my dad by myself ahead of time. First, this allows me to decide if I am pissed enough to continue with this. Second, I am a lot more calm when I finally do it. Third, I am wicked good at it. He and I are too much alike, I can almost always predict his reaction.

Since I am in the middle of a personal and financial clusterfuck I am a little angrier with him than is warranted. Or maybe I'm not it's hard to tell. I already know I won't have this argument with him in person because it would be a waste of time. He won't ever change.

I was angry because he never got to know me. Not when I was a kid, not really now. My father couldn't tell you much about me--not my hobbies, not my favorite foods, not my friends' names or even what I do for a living. But he can tell you all of that about my husband. He always favored my sister. Openly, blatantly, but this is a relative term. I think that actually fucked her up worse.

I'm angry because he treats me like I can't have an opinion different than my husband. Like J automatically makes the decisions in my house. He was suprised to find out that I made more money, even though I have more education and have more experience. I'm angry because he ignores my mother. And lets her wait on him like that. I'm angry because he takes credit for any success I achieve but has never told me that he is proud of me.

By the end of this tirade against my dad I was crying in my car. I realized that I had been yelling. Both sides of the argument. Now, people in other cars are staring at the crazy lady in the silver SUV.

This makes me laugh. Laughter through tears, my favorite emotion.

6:01 p.m. :: comment ::
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