OK, Marjorie. This is the final straw and damn you to hell, woman! May you hurry up and die NOW!!! Oh, how I’d love to smother that woman with a pillow in her sleep! I wish somebody would, since she just won’t go belly up fast enough. The piece of shit car that the user insisted we have, and that’s caused us so much time and trouble, just broke down. Tom called and asked that I give him a number of a towing company. She better buy us a new car and pay these fucking towing costs, so help me God! Oh, how I’ve come to hate that woman and you can bet your ass I’ll be sick the day of her funeral.

He told this bitch, by the way, about the manufactured homes. He said she asked if it came with a little house attached to it for her. Fat chance, Marge!

I’m so fucking sick and tired of this woman, directly and indirectly, coming between us. Instead of being able to prep the house this weekend, we have to play car. The whole weekend’s gonna be shot to having to fix this fucking car.

Poor Tom’s stuck at a Circle K for about an hour having to wait for the fucking tow truck. Every single fucking time we try to get on with our lives, she has to interfere in some way shape or form. I wonder if Tom will have the time to move even with just the overtime they stick him with at work, let alone his having to constantly repair that fucking car and deal with his mother.

I wonder what our young, weird renters are up to, who never seem to work. They’ve been making trips unloading and loading things up in a red van.

Boy, am I a damn good detective! Got some goodies for those freeloaders.

I’m pleased to say that Bill’s back, which I noticed upon waking up at 11:00. I also noticed a white city van, too. There were two city guys. One was black, but I’m not sure about the other. He may’ve been black. Anyway, they were apparently doing something with the evaporative cooler. I got pictures of them on the roof and of the city van parked in the driveway. The guys had their backs to me, but what makes this camera cool, is that you don’t have to aim its lens right at them. You can hold the thing down by your waist and no one would know you were taking a picture of them, since the lens swivels. You can take a picture of someone above you while holding the camera downwards. After they left, the cock appeared in the street. Then a white city car pulled into the driveway and a black lady with short straight hair got out and went into the house. No doubt making sure the bitch didn’t have anyone living there that wasn’t supposed to be there, after my complaint. I got pictures of both cars.

The cock was its usual bald self with its gold glasses, and this time, it wore a white beaded necklace of some kind.

When the lady came and got back in her car, the cock came up to her door with a neon pink piece of paper. I don’t know what that was all about. There was an air about that cock, though, that said, See? I’m not guilty of doing anything wrong. It was like he was trying to butter her up and kiss her ass. Did he have a guilty conscience? Then the lady left and the cock got in his car. He was fumbling with a blue shade screen. He has two twin tree air fresheners dangling from his mirror. I took the binoculars and tried to read the license plate which was a little hard to see with our bird of paradise twigs in the way. I made out what I think is JYD, but then the little shit pulled away before I could read more. I guess this is an older car too, since it has those old maroon-colored plates.

You could say I’ve gone from being disappointed in Andy, to mildly worried about him. He just won’t work. He can’t keep living like he has been forever. He said he quit the filing job cuz he hated it so much. Then he told me that yesterday he began his first day at another temp job which was great. Then today, the phone rang at 1 PM. I got a feeling it was Andy calling, who shouldn’t be calling if he were at this job which is a day job. Sure enough, it was him leaving a message, and he said the same thing - he came home sick. He says it’s his stomach and he doesn’t know if it’s nerves, the flu, or what. He says he thinks it’s the cigarettes, he wishes he could quit, and wants any advice I could give him. As I told him, you just have to make up your mind to quit and stick to it. Everyone’s different as to how long their cravings last. It was 4 months for me, but I’ve known people who have told me their cravings only lasted a few weeks. I’ve also heard some say a year. I think another reason he could be having stomach problems could be due to how much he’s eating. Even he admits to eating like a pig. It seems he lives for food, pot, and phones, and nothing more. As he says, he’s just not interested in anything. It’s sad to see him go to waste like this. He’s too smart and too good of a person to go on like this, but once again, what can anyone do? No one can make him change but him.

In his reply message to me, he said he hasn’t eaten hardly at all this week, cuz he’s been puking up everything he eats. Therefore, he’s hungry but is afraid to even try to eat. Maybe all he needs is sleep, he says. Right. Sure he hasn’t eaten hardly anything all week. He’s lucky he’s only 160 pounds with all he eats.

Later...

Here’s the update - Tom said the car just stalled on the freeway, so he coasted to the shoulder of the road. Using the cell phone, he found out that our free roadside assistance was canceled due to low usage. Thanks for notifying us, huh? He said there was a broken rotor. As God would have it, the nearest parts store was 4 miles away. So he walked to a place to buy a new rotor (of course, there had to be another parts store right next to it). Then he took the bus back, getting off the bus earlier than he knew he needed to. He was afraid the car would be towed or that there’d be a ticket waiting for him when he returned, but God was at least willing to spare him that much. So he put the new rotor in, but it didn’t help shit. He did manage to get the car into a Circle K parking lot, but then that was it, the car was dead. This is when he called me to look for a towing company. Tom says it’s either due to a blown head gasket, a cracked block, or a cracked head. Yeah, I sure wouldn’t mind cracking some heads myself! Meanwhile, almost right on time, the car was towed back here and pushed into the garage where the dead piece of shit is sitting right now. Before Tom told me it could be permanently dead, I had a strong vibe saying it could never be fixed. It’s totally trashed.

I’ll write more about it later.

Later...

Tom and I walked to the Circle K that’s by our house shortly after he got home, and bought a few things to hold us over till he can do the regular grocery run. It was a bit warm, but still a pleasant walk. On our way up there, we walked up W. Weldon before turning onto 19th Ave. On our way back, we came down Whitten Ave., a block over from W. Weldon. A small to medium-sized dog began following us, but its owner called it back, thankfully, even if Tom said it was friendly. As Tom pointed out, every other house had a dog in its yard. It was sickening. This is one of the reasons why Tom decided not to put the doggie door in the back door. It’s not worth the time and money. We have enough other shit to do around here. Also, the next people, who’ll more than likely have a pet, will have a dog. And it won’t be allowed indoors.

Tomorrow, we’ll more than likely have a new car. Not a brand new one, but something that at least runs. Tom spoke to Mary and Marge. Although Marge will buy us the new car, there goes 4 or 5 thousand dollars towards moving. So, in order to get more money from her to help towards moving, he may have to bribe her, so to speak, since she’s selfish. If we told her we were moving to Nevada, all she’d do is think, He’s not gonna be able to take me to appointments anymore. So since there’d be nothing in it for her, she wouldn’t help us by giving us money. If we offer to let her stay with us some weekends, she may be willing to help a little more if she sees there’s something in it for her, too. Especially since she gets sick of dealing with Mary and Dave’s filthiness, their dog, and them eating nothing but fast food shit.

What if she were already dead and had given the money out? Then what would we do? As Tom said, we’ve got to start saving some money at some point so that we can bail our own asses out of trouble in the future.

I’m so tired of being the underdog, I swear! I know things could be worse for me, and perhaps this is selfish of me, but when I look at all these normal people around me who can keep schedules, sleep with their spouses and have normal sex, drive cars, work regular jobs, make decent money, have the houses they want, have the kids they want for free, it really bothers me. We’d have to pay thousands of dollars to have a kid that we no doubt still could never have if I decided to do the in vitro someday, we live in an old dumpy house, have a dead piece of shit for a car, and he makes so-so money working 50 or more hours a week. Forget about trying to fix and deal with the other things like the schedule, etc. He says he should be getting a raise in a week or two. Hopefully, that’ll help.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to get the house I want, in the perfect location, but I just hope Tom’s right when he says we should still get out of here in July or August.