3:07 p.m. - 2009-07-19
Captive shoes
He's a grouchy old man, who says I should get rid of any clothes and shoes that won't fit in the 37" closet with one bar....that would be everything I own other than my scrubs.
He's gone right now to run his daughters around ( who he hasn't heard from since May) and buy them things in hopes they will treat him like a father. He just hasn't done enough putting them above all, buying them thousands of dollars worth of shit for birthdays and Christmas, so that they might feel empowered knowing he bought me nothing (as I sat there with just that) on Christmas day picking up the 20 rolls of unwrapped gift paper and making french toast.
It made him angry because I put on my PJ's in the middle of the day, but I was freezing in this house with all the windows open. And the basement, where I wash his shit streaked underwear, is very cold. He's like living with a bald Grizzly.
I'm so miserable. I'm putting my shoes in the trunk of my car after he made a comment because I wanted to use an empty closet...well, it had old teddy bears of his kids in it.
So, my shoes will live in my trunk until I'm free.
I can almost imagine how a POW feels, captured by bi-polar small dicked control freaks.... trapped, afraid, not sure if their condition is terminal. I think about the women who are held hostage everyday, right here in America. We're free to go...but where??? So, we stay with no bars to hold us, just the fear of living in our car (those of us who have one.) So we make the best of our situation and don't piss off the warden.
I hope he dumps me for a young beautiful woman whom he worships. A woman he is so in love with he feels he can't live without... so he buys her Christmas gifts and even leaves her something to live on when his smelly ass croaks. That would kill his horrible kids since their greatest concern in life is their inheritance. But they needn't worry about me. If I were so crazy as to marry him, I would embezzle all I need from his bank account, his jewelry, his house ( there would be so many robbery's we couldn't keep insurance) and even pick the gold out of his teeth while in his beer induced slumber. I wouldn't need one dime of his pitiful picked over investments. I'd just pick up my designer hand bag, call the travel agent, book a cruise and grab the silver candle sticks on the way out the door. TA-ta kiddies, enjoy the funeral.
