God, the constant biting gets frustrating! Every day I bite myself or get pinched by these braces, and I’m so sick of it! I had planned to quit the Tic-Tacs and just chew gum after the braces come off, but I don’t know. Not if that means I’ll be biting the fuck out of myself. The more I chew something, the more I get bit up. It not only doesn’t tickle, but the area that gets bit swells up and makes it harder to chew around.

Tom got primer, and as my vibes said, it doesn’t seem to really help a lot. It looks like we’re gonna have to spray paint since that puts a lot more paint on. If that doesn’t work, I guess we’ll have to either go with a darker color or wallpaper. Why the fuck did I ever have to do this wall art?!

The assholes next door have been home for the most part, as usual, sitting on their asses. The van’s on one of its many trips out right now, though.

God, do I dread this weekend!

I’m reconsidering the exercise machine once again. Maybe I should get it and just build. That doesn’t take numerous hours a day like shaping/toning does. I’ll just have too much muscle rather than too much fat, but I think that if most of us had to choose which one we had an excess of, it’d be the muscle.

As I was doing some printing yesterday, I noticed that the second to last call made by Tammy was on the 5th. Well, of course. The day before Doe’s birthday. She was calling to pressure me into calling Doe on her birthday. The last call still has me baffled, but my guess is that rather than deal with acknowledging my letter and going off on me about it like she probably intended to do that time she tried calling twice, she decided she’d play dumb with the hopes that things would carry on as usual so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Later...

I made the mistake of calling Tammy back, who still insists on calling. I figured I could hold her off and keep her at arm’s length at least till we moved, but from here on out, if she calls again, I’m ignoring her just like with the others for damn sure. There’s nothing anyone can do to ever get me to talk to her again, any more than with the others. I’ve had it for good with anyone named O or G, and that includes Lisa. I hate to give her up, but I have no choice and again, sometimes you have to give up the good in order to give up the bad. Reuniting with her when she’s an adult and on her own would only open up an old can of worms, bringing the past and its people with it, to haunt me all over again. I’m haunted enough as it is. For the rest of my life, I’ll have to deal with thoughts and memories of these people popping into my head at any given time of the day and tormenting me, and this is hard enough to live with.

She called swearing that she wasn’t dumping me and that she wasn’t trying to pressure me into doing anything I didn’t want to do (could’ve fooled me!). All she wanted to do was talk about her feelings. She said she doesn’t give a fuck about Ma, but that she still has feelings for Dad. Well, that’s between her and him, as it is, but I understand we can’t help our feelings. Then she started to tell me something about his carotid artery, making his throat and vocal muscles paralyzed. She said he can talk, but it’s very hard for him and that he’s hard to understand (oh, so they called me a few weeks ago so I could feel sorry for them, huh? They figured they’d use a little pity trip as a way of snaring back into their sick little web of abuse and going through the same old sick cycle). This is when I came out and told her that due to her hyping things up in the past, I had no way of believing or knowing just how ill someone really was when the report was coming from her. She told everyone she was dying when she lived in Texas. She blamed that one on having no self-esteem. Well, I was no angel myself, and I had no self-esteem for a while there either, but I didn’t go around telling people I was dying.

The fact that I felt no emotion whatsoever over Art’s condition, tells me all the more how badly he and his associates have hurt me time and time again. It may take years, but you can only fuck with your kids so many times before they’ll be gone forever. I just thank God he wouldn’t allow me kids so that this cycle could be broken, cuz it won’t break with Tammy. Larry’s nothing like Dureen and Art was, fortunately, but that’s only when the whoring wimp’s home.

Anyway, our conversation ended with her asking for examples of how she’s hyped things up. After the dying in Texas incident, I told her I didn’t buy Bill’s so-called cancer for a minute, and this is when she screamed oh, fuck off and hung up. Well, Tammy, that’s exactly what I’ll do. In fact, I’ll make damn sure to fuck off for the rest of your life. I promise. You asked for it, you got it. Meanwhile, you’ll have to talk to someone else about your feelings. I don’t need any more shit from these people and 33 years of it is more than enough.

I watched Tom’s father struggle with cancer until he died. I saw what it did to him. Meanwhile, Bill’s not only alive, but his health is just wonderful. According to what Tom and I read about lymphoma online, he should be long dead, not that I wish he weren’t.

The very beginning of our little chat started out with her not knowing we were seriously moving (not a word about our anniversary). Oh yeah, we’re damn serious. We just can’t get the fuck out of here fast enough! With our luck, we really will be here till September or even October. Even 7-8 more weeks seems like a year.

Later...

I added Tammy to my mailing list, so that’s Tammy, Larry, the folks, the bitch, the freeloaders, the collie people, and Andy that’ll be hearing from me one last time when we move. 1 manila envelope to Tammy, 1 to Larry, 1 to the folks, 1 to Andy, and 2 to the bitch. 3 regular envelopes to the Mexicans and 1 to the collie people. A total of 10 pieces. I also inserted a couple of sheets of old journal shit in the envelopes I had printed pictures on the backs of, so Bob will get a total of 6 and Paula will get 15. I’ll send them out weekly.

Our freeloaders are doing a different routine tonight. Instead of lights out by 8:00 with the blinds drawn and the van there for the night, their blinds are open, I can see a light down the hall that may be coming from one of the bedrooms (there are 2 in front/1 in back), and the van is nowhere in sight. Maybe the late-night scream I gave them has them a little on guard.

I’m surprised I haven’t seen the little kids outside playing in the late afternoons lately. Maybe they do get a little sensitive to temps over 100º.