Doing Christmas…The Fest Way-Part One

I woke up on Christmas with my head throbbing.  I had not slept very long and had wasted too many hours trying to respond to more bullshit.  We were a week out, and I was still being accused of things I could not make up if tried.  I kept waiting for anyone in my family to explain what the hell was going on.  They must have been busy with the holidays and all the joy that comes with it this year.

King Shit’s email on the night of the 18th was full of “blah, blah”.  However,  one sentence stood out, ” I’d have to tell him about the Dumb Shit’s missing DVD player and drugs that were gone after you both were over there cleaning.”  The person KS wants to tell is my son, because apparently KS has no ability to decipher sarcasm. There was a lot more he would “have to tell him”.  I saved him the trouble and printed it out. Now my son can use the wisdom it contains as a guide to get through life.

My father had also sent an email about the mysterious “missing” items.  I did not read it until after K.S’s ramble, but his included a little more F-you in it.  His let me know that my mother had felt so bad she bought Dumb Shit a new DVD player.  If anyone would have bothered to ask, we would have given her one of five that we own.  I often wonder what they think I was going to do with another one, pawn it for fifty cents of crack?  Oh, wait I guess it would be for fifty cents worth of the same “pills” they all take.

Since every dime we had been able to scrape up had been to keep a roof over our heads, there was not much for Christmas.  When my son asked if his gifts from everyone were in the truck that was parked by KS’s house I wanted to throw up.  I had sent emails to my parents demanding a few things that only came out because I was pissed.  However, the one demand I did mean was they needed leave their grandson something for Christmas before they went on their “holiday”.

Another family member did tell me later that they did not know where to leave anything. That is ironic because the one person who took ten seconds to think about my son managed to get us some goodies without even seeing us. I remember Christmas as a child, and I know for a FACT that my deceased grandparents would have made sure I had something.  Even if my mother was sitting on the corner smoking crack after stealing their diamond’s to buy it. I guess the fact they think I am not entitled to human decency, runs through my blood into his.

In our mad rush to get out of the Hell House, we left our son’s PS3 in the room.  In a week we had gone from you can come by to get your things anytime to ” step foot on the property and I will call the police.”  Which by now there was no way I would step on the property without the police. So much shit had been made up I had no idea what was going to come next.  Maybe… steal my grandmother’s antiques?

Within two days of the “missing” DVD player KS had spun a little story about “antiques”.  I would like to think that one of them had made a comment to him about how asinine the DVD player sounded.  However, now these were not missing, I was “planning” on stealing them so I think he had digressed a little.  My father did send an email asking if it was true that I was planning on stealing some items from my grandmother that had been under fifty feet of dirt and crap scattered across a half an acre of backyard.

The police followed me to the Hell House to get my son’s PS3 on Christmas Day.  I had promised him I would get it and I do not promise my kids anything unless I know I can make it happen.  However, if I had known KS was going to play dirty I might have thought twice before making that one…


Two Worlds

They look at you with disappointment…. thinking they know something…they have no idea how wrong they are…if they knew that would they act the same…would they make stupid comments…tell you they are not involved…ask you what are they doing to you…do they remember the innocent one in the middle…

You scream….yell…FUCK OFF…as loud as you can in your writing…they act shocked at your choice of words…writing “stuff it”  instead of using the words that come out of their mouths…they like to share your thoughts with each other…laughing back and forth…like your life is their game to be played with as they wish…to them it is pure entertainment…

Do they feel better when their foot shoves your face into the mud…when they grow tired they find someone else to shove down you some more… they all stare, laughing as they watch you struggle to get up… wiping away the spec of dirt that splattered back as their boot kicked your innocent one…you stand up out of the mud…you look deep into their soul…you see nothing but anger and hate…

You wonder…can she see a time where he did not get into the car…there is no insurance settlement…the older wise one did not start her in that house…no free and clear…she gets pregnant…he is screwing her friends…she is upset…she takes one more of the pills the Dr. gave her for pain…everything seems a little brighter…a year money… over due bills… and that new problem…dope-sick…is she strong enough to handle that…can she turn down the needle full of heroin knowing the sickness is approaching fast…

Does he know how inches could have changed his entire life…he has been drinking with his friends…gets into his new truck…lines start to blur just a little… he tries to bring them back to clear…cannot see the car with the single mom of three…can he see the felony DUI…the manslaughter charge…can he feel the guilt ripping him apart…does he feel the relief when the vodka slides down his throat and starts to numb the pain…

They judge with only the knowledge formed from their own world…based on what they think is normal…

THEIR world where…. compassion is conditional…monetary success required…functional addiction mandatory…
YOUR world where…. empathy is expected…sharing required, as you cannot take it with you……AND the understanding there is only a moment in time…only one wrong decision before they come slipping into YOUR WORLD ….

Welcome to F*#K Fest 2012

On Christmas Eve we decided to not book another night in Fountain Hills.  I have no idea how we got everything crammed into the car, we must be learning.  We left not having our next hotel lined up, so we went to our main McDonald’s for some wifi and milk shakes.  Two hours later we were checking in to our new home ready for some peace and to enjoy Christmas.

During our constant struggle to keep a roof over our heads we also had to deal with what I now call “Insanity”.  This started with a family friend, Dumb-Shit, starting a rumor that was spun by King-Shit into something that actually affected how family treated me in different states.  Dumb-Shit is my mother’s best friend and has known me my entire life. The King- Shit is my father’s brother, who at one time I was very close to. Thirty-six hours before we found ourselves calling my best friend from McDonald’s, we had no idea what was about to happen…

We walked down the hall to the room the three of us had been staying in for the last two months.  There was a note on the door with my name on it.  I thought the handwriting looked liked my grandmother’s, but I was not sure.  We sat down talking about how things had started getting weird in the house.  There were nine people in the house and for the past week it seemed like something was very off.  It was like being in high school and we were being bullied and shunned.  My husband was getting the brunt of it, but he had been keeping it to himself. I had noticed a difference with the treatment of our son.  At the time I just thought it was a difference of opinion  Looking back I cannot believe I did not see it sooner. However, this was my family.  I had a trust that they would not sick a knife in my back and twist it until it hurt my son.

I could feel my heart start to pound as my eyes skimmed across the words that had been typed.  ” It would be best if you left tomorrow.  I am telling you today so you have time to pack some clothes.”  Pack some clothes?  What the hell is King-Shit talking about?  I read it again, letting it soak in for a second before I looked at my husband.  We have to be out tomorrow I told him as I handed him the now famous note….

The next 24 hours were a blur.  Disbelief, shock, hurt , and a million other feelings ran through us like a a freight train running off the tracks.  How could they do this to our son a week before Christmas, I thought as I tried to think what to pack. What  do you put into a Saturn to survive with a 12 year old in the winter.  Scottsdale still gets cold at night. What paper work did we need? What did we own that we could sell for fast money?  We had no bank accounts, no credit and our poor little Saturn had seen better days.

Normal people would be thinking what the hell did you do to get kicked out with your son with less than a days notice….” You being here is causing Gram and Gramp stress”  I understood that to a point.  However, what about the stress of seeing us running around asking what we did, could we stay until the end of the week, could our son stay to finish out the week of school…I think that was little stressful.

It was 6 pm and we were trying to get the last of our things to our car having no idea where we were going, when I hear my name called.  I look up and there is King Shit’s wife with my grandmother who is crying saying that King-Shit had said we had a place for the night.  One of many lies he would tell my grandmother in the upcoming weeks.  They ask us to stay until the day after Christmas.  We had no where to go, so we went back inside.  What I will never understand is how we all sat at that same table and ate supper as if the last 24 hours had not happened.  That is some insanity.

Later that night I received an email from King-Shit.  It was becoming apparent that he only spoke with his fingers and a keyboard.  Not sure what happen to his balls that I had assumed he was born with.  Maybe he lost them. The email floored me and spun my adrenaline into a tornado that is still spinning….A few hours later we were at our now favorite McDonald’s….



When it is dark and the world is against you

SPUN2013 Look up and remember God’s light shines on you everyday…

Thank You McDonalds…

The hotel in Fountain Hills went well past having bad customer service, they were completely disrespectful.  I still cringe thinking about how she said “homeless”.  However, it was the stigma attached to us after, which made me stop using that word.

We had contact with four people there, including the general manager, Bob. One of them was pleasant and felt horrible that we did not have a good experience with the front desk staff. She even asked if there was anything she could do.  It is interesting that her name was not Bob. Up until then, we were starting to think everyone there was unfriendly and incompetent.

Fifteen years of management experience on the Las Vegas Strip taught my husband how a guest should be treated in a hotel. Two weeks of lessons from the street has taught me how a human being should be treated, period.  It does not cost anything to smile at someone, or let them have a parking spot.  It cost the manager of the McDonald’s we have come to love, nothing to make my son smile and say, “he is a really nice guy.” There was no free food and no special VIP treatment.  We were on the receiving end of someone that wanted to know what they could do for us.  He even thanked us for letting him serve us the chocolate shake we ordered.

A Little Real Time Fun..


Hotel rooms are only fun for so long… A little jump time is a well deserved break…