I have a zillion things to write about, and most of it is not very cool.

Let me start with the freeloaders. I was right again about them. Well, we were right about them. There hasn’t been any significant trouble yet, but next weekend or the weekend after, around the freeloader’s birthday, there will be.

Yesterday I was thinking about how they must be dying to give us noise right back and would prefer to wait till we were done but were probably getting too impatient to wait much longer. Well, they did just what I knew they’d do at some point over the next few weekends. I mean, it’s quite a coincidence that that hoop, which hasn’t been used in months, was finally used after Tom’s been banging about for a couple of weeks. They couldn’t be more obvious than they were today, although it was for under 15 minutes. Tom was right, though, when he said, “Don’t bother being noisy, cuz it’ll never bother them. It’ll just make them noisier just because it’s you that’s being noisy.” Today proved him right. They just can’t stand to be left out. Such attention we crave! I knew they couldn’t handle hearing from us without wanting to be heard right back. I’m not stupid as far as these people are concerned. I know exactly what they’re up to and why. I know how, where, and everything that makes them tick. I know their MO, etc.

Yesterday, the white car visited, but that was it. Today, as figured, the cock was here. Tom said he saw the bitch hanging out clothes all day. I’m sure the cock showed up for a piece of that line, as well as a piece of her ass. I didn’t see the white car pull up, but as I stepped up to the living room window, I saw a tall, skinny woman freeloader get out of the car with a baby in a bassinet and a couple of other kids. None over 8-10 years old. It looked like two girl freeloaders, plus a newborn.

Not quite. Next thing I know I hear a ball bouncing along with Tom’s nail gun. He worked at their side of the house today. This no doubt pissed her off and she went and called these people over, but there weren’t just 3 kids. More like 5 at the very least. There were two black boys playing ball (I saw the cock move its car into the carport).

Fucking, mother-fucking freeloaders! Slam, slam, slam! That’s all I’ve been hearing. I thought something fell on the roof and that I was done with next door’s shit till next weekend, but nope. In comes the freeloader. It’s getting its clothes, I guess, but I still fear this thing may be on the verge of moving back in. It’s just coming around way too much. Well like I said, if it does, it’s outa here. Same goes for its bitch. We’ll never be neighbors again, cock, never! Hear me, cock? Never!

Anyway, as I was saying till I was rudely distracted, the two black boys, who were about 5 and could’ve been twins, played ball for a few minutes, then left in the white car. All that just to be heard back, huh Joebitch? God, we’re getting rather desperate here, aren’t we?! These boys were cute, though, Tom said, asking him if he was building this house and if he lived here. I asked if any adults knew the boys talked to him and he said he didn’t care. I’m surprised she didn’t yell up to him, “Shut up! Shut up! I’m sick of your shit. Don’t you be talking to no one here or I’ll have you served, ho!” She’s damn lucky she didn’t, though, cuz that would’ve sent me flying over there. I’m sure she did know and that that’s why the game was so short and why they left. Initially, she was probably hoping they’d play for hours. That’s what I thought they’d do too, but they will when he’s off the roof. Next weekend or the weekend after, there’ll be hours’ worth of ball games and probably some music too, and remember, Mistake’s birthday’s coming up. I think it’s the 14th.

I just know they’re gonna cause trouble as far as noise goes and it’ll be in the near future, too. The question is, this time around, do I want to go over there and beat the shit out of them? Do I want to give them noise right back (and that includes in the middle of the night)? Or do I want to have the city evict them?

freeloader’s still here. Damn! I just want this thing outa here! Its presence is really making me nervous. It came around the back of the car, jumped up and grabbed the hoop and swung off it (too bad it didn’t break the hoop), then it got stuff out of the backseat of its car. It looks like some of it could be for the mistake too, and that worries me. There’s no U-Haul as of yet, but it moved in little by little the last time and it brought stuff for the mistake, no doubt to impress the bitch and butter her up into letting it stay with her.

It was wearing a beanie-type cap. One that’s longer than a beanie. Tom told me that’s an Islamic religious cap. Islamic? Aren’t those things pretty fucked up? You ever notice that so many freeloaders are into religion? It’s obvious why. They do it as a cover for their sins/faults/mistakes and as an excuse to keep on doing them. Some people think that they can do all the wrong they want and get away with it if they just say, “God. I’m sorry.” Take a bank robber, for example. If that robber was told that all he had to do to get out of going to prison after a robbery was say, “I’m sorry,” and that’s it, it’d keep on robbing. The freeloaders see it that way, too. They think they can harass people like me and not give a fuck about anyone but themselves, as long as they go to church every Sunday and apologize for it.

Yeah! freeloader’s gone. Now stay the fuck away, you piece of motherfucking scum shit!! You ain’t wanted here, dickwad!

The dog across the street continues to not be a problem so far.

Later…

Fuck! Here we go again! I just heard a really loud slam that could be felt as well as heard over this loud fan. I could tell it parked in the carport too (probably hauling over more of its shit), where its slamming would echo off the walls. All I can see is the very rear end of the car, but you know what? I can’t really say for sure in the dark that it’s the cock’s car. I think it’s a white car. Even so, how long is the payback gonna be? How long am I gonna have to listen to them deliberately slam doors really loud? Can’t this bitch see that there’s a difference between someone working on their house and generating noise cuz they have to in order to fix their fucking roof, and someone deliberately trying to get your attention and get you to notice and acknowledge them and their existence and harass you? When are they gonna grow up and cut the immature shit? Enough’s enough! This shit’s getting fucking old. Keep it up bitch and company and you’re gone!

Karma. The idea of it would normally give me peace of mind, but not with these people. Why is it that somehow, I feel God’s gonna let them get away with the shit they’ve given me? Well, it’s sad but true, that what goes around doesn’t always come around. Not for everyone. God has different rules for different folks.

Anyway, this bitch doesn’t typically have company at 6:30 on a Sunday night, but I wonder if this car is gonna be here overnight since it’s parked halfway into the carport. I doubt it. I think it only went in just enough to enhance the slamming of the car door, but if it’s still here in a few hours, I’ll step just outside the front door and see what car it is.

It’s early evening, so the collies are going at it. They’ve been going at it for over an hour. I can hear them whenever I go into the bathroom, but for another hour or so, I’ll have the air cleaner on in the living room where I am now. I absolutely cannot believe that no one’s either shot these beasts or complained. Maybe they did complain but found that it didn’t do them any good.

Now let me back up to yesterday morning. Due to the rain they predicted, Tom got plastic sheeting and put it on the roof. He used some of the bricks that have been sitting at the side of the house to weigh them down.

I was thrilled that I’d gotten myself on days and would have no problems getting to my appointment.

Late yesterday morning, we screwed, then he used the dumbest, lamest, senseless excuse I ever heard! No, not the “I’m sick,” “I’m tired,” “I’m too sore,” “I’m too hot” lines, but the “I’m too horny to cum” line. That is the stupidest thing I ever heard! I mean, how can one be too horny to cum? That’s like saying you’re too thirsty for a drink, or too dirty for a shower, or too hungry for food. If he can’t tell me he just doesn’t want to cum, he’s gotta do better than this, but that’s the thing with him, he thinks he can boldly lie/deny the obvious. As long as he knows you can’t literally prove him a liar, he’ll tell you the sky’s green if he wants to. He’ll tell you the grass is pink. Anything he wants to bullshit you on, he’ll so boldly and daringly do so, no matter how off the wall it is, and no matter how wrong you know he is.

I haven’t exactly spilled the beans on him (not that it’d do me any good) and told him I know he’s only cum once since last April, but I did tell him that I didn’t see how we’d have the time to do any “testing” if we were told to screw 10 days in a row. Not with our schedules and busyness. Besides, what good’s it gonna do me with a guy who refuses to cum? I really feel I’m just wasting my time here and thank fucking God I don’t want a kid. I’d never get pregnant by this guy. If I were fixed, this poor, terrified guy will never cum again! Not with me, he won’t. A part of me feels guilty, too. I mean, he’s willing to sacrifice cumming altogether (at least with his wife), just so I can be fixed and be normal and have a full bag of rights as a woman. Well, it’s his choice, but how can he have the nerve to look me in the eye, after telling me not to make excuses to back out of this thing, and tell me he is going to do his part of the testing? Yeah, right! Like hell he is! Which is it - is he delusional into thinking he can really squirt for testing? Or is he that much of a bold liar who’ll knowingly and intentionally lie to my face like that with no empathy, no guilt, no remorse, and with no plans whatsoever to let them have even a drop of his cum? I just wish I knew what I was in for! Am I making a huge mistake that I’ll live to really, really regret? Or does he know something I don’t? Something like how he plans to let them have his cum for testing’s sake, then will make sure none of it gets inside me if I get fixed? Well, I always knew he was in full control of his cumming, so we’ll just have to wait and see what he does.

Now for the worst thing that happened since I last wrote. Curses come and go in waves. Right now, the coast is clear, thank fucking God! Ironically, this shit went down right as I noticed I hit an all-time low of 111 pounds. Coincidence? Or was it compensation for what happened last night? What happened? Oh, just the usual shit battling with that fucking roof. I swear I wanted to sell out right then and there and just go into an apartment till we can move to where we want to be, or sell out now and move to where we want to be, but take our dumpy furniture with us and forget about using the sale money of this house to buy newer, nicer furniture. I’m soooooo fucking sick of this shit!! I need a fucking roof over my head and I just want us to have a life! Is that too much to ask for? Of course it is!

Anyway, the nature of the desert is, is that if it rains here, it’s usually in the morning or at night. It rained in the morning but was clear from 11 AM-10:30 PM. Amazingly, the morning rain did not leak in here at all.

I was pissed at myself for falling asleep too early and for getting up at 8:30 PM, which would mean I’d have to stay up at least 18-20 hours before I could go to sleep and not get up too early. Well, I couldn’t have slept a couple more hours if I wanted to. At 10:30 I was lying in bed when I heard a crash overhead. I thought it was Tom making sure the tarp was covering things well, but nope. It wasn’t him. It was the bricks falling. That’s how windy it was out, and it rained real hard, too.

So Tom went back on the roof and weighed the tarp down with bags of shingles that weigh 70 pounds, but not without it leaking in the bedroom, the bedroom closet, and the music room first, and not without him nearly getting blown off the roof. No water came down into the music room. Just the ceiling got wet, cuz the stupid male fucks that put in our AC didn’t connect it to the roof very well. I cussed them out on their machine for it (after blocking this number), not cuz it’d change how they work, not cuz we don’t have to repaint all the walls and ceilings anyway, but cuz I was in a foul mood and have been all weekend. Tomorrow should be better, though. Gonna see Melie and maybe stop at the bookstore.

I expressed a vibe I had to Tom about waking up to water leaking on my face. He said that that’d be extremely unlikely. That’s what makes it likely. The fact that it’s not likely. If it’s unique, odd, different, abnormal, fluky, freaky, uncommon, unlikely, etc., it’s me. Anyway, I was close. I was already up, and the leak was at the foot of the bed. Fortunately, though, only a few drops came down through a crack in the plaster, but the closet got hit worse and it stinks in there. It stinks of mildew everywhere and I had to spray a disinfectant all over but thank God it was just my typed journals that got wet. They may have dried up OK. I didn’t check, but we covered my dolls, the stereos, the TV, VCR, and computer stuff with plastic.

Anyway, this whole ordeal was humiliating, frustrating, and even scary, cuz I just didn’t know if it was gonna cause sparks to come shooting from plugs or what.

I was also infuriated with that bitch next door and all I wanted to do was go over there, walk it over here by the nape of its neck, and show it how we live and how at 33 and 41, we’re still struggling and we’re still trying to get ahead. Meanwhile, this bitch uses her kid to get the city to cater to her for free. I could’ve beaten that bitch to a bloody pulp yesterday!

So the rain and wind stopped, the leaks stopped dripping, then Tom went out and made a $600 investment. He bought a compressor, a nail gun, and many other tools, gadgets, and accessories that came in a kit.

As of yesterday, only the back room and garage were done, but now he’s gotten towards the middle of the house done and says he could’ve gotten 75% of it done if he didn’t have to work tonight. He said the nail gun makes it three times as fast.

Miraculously, I fell back asleep from 5 AM-10 AM when Tom woke me up.

What? If this is the white car, is that woman and her 500 kids moving in? It’s like, yo bitch! Wake up and face reality. Hello! You can’t do this if you don’t want to lose that house, you dumbfuck cunt!

On the other hand, I’d say this car will eventually leave cuz the front porch light is on. Usually, you turn it on for the visitors you expect and leave it on till after they leave. God, I hate living next to druggies! Fucking traffic in and out and in and out as their fucking buyers and suppliers come and go like bumper cars at a carnival.

Surprisingly, I haven’t heard from Andy this weekend. I thought he was due back last night, but as Tom said, they might’ve taken an extra day or two cuz of the weather.

You know what’s sad about Andy? I mean really, really sad? He wanted to get fired as much as he did, and he’ll keep on doing it probably for the rest of his life. He’s gonna set out to deliberately get fired over and over again. When he comes back, he’ll stop or cut down the pot, get a job, then make sure he gets fired in a week, then use that as an excuse to get stoned. Why? Why is he so scared to decide whether or not he wants to keep certain jobs? Why does he want the decision made for him? I mean, why doesn’t he just ask to be fired in a week the day he goes in for a job interview that looks promising? He might as well.

Now for the last subject I wanted to cover. Tammy left a message yesterday sounding happy and even younger, saying that all was great with her, Mark, and the girls.

So I called her back today. First she told me she was really busy, cuz she refinanced the house and got $4,000 in new furniture, and that Mark was remodeling with her.

Also, Larry’s causing trouble again. Yeah, it fucking figures. I knew he’d be up to his old shit sooner or later. He or Dureen or Art. And what makes it even sicker is that they use Tammy’s kids to get at her.

Larry, you sick little fuck! If I could be there for just 5 minutes! Just 5 minutes with you, boy! Aaaarrrrrrrghhhhhh! No words could express just how much I’d like to slaughter this sick fuck! Now I see why there is so much violence and murder in families. It’s so easy to resort to and sometimes it’s the only solution. I mean, I totally disagree with those that say violence is no solution. Sometimes it isn’t, but sometimes it is, and I can see myself easily killing a handful of so-called “family” members if they were here in this room with me. It’d be no problem, and if I didn’t kill them, they’d wish to hell I did cuz they’d be hurting that bad.

Larry’s right - Tammy’s a shit mom, and I do believe he really did have the best interests of the kids at heart when he called the state (along with doing it to spite Tammy no doubt at the urging of Dureen and Art), but it takes a lot of balls to call the state on someone, then turn around and call the house to talk to her kids! I guess this happened when Tammy was out, but he called to talk to the kids. He does like Lisa and the sicko’s trying to replace Larry with Lisa, but it was mostly to spite Tammy. Not to talk to the kids for the sake of caring about them.

Tammy said something about contacting the police about his calling there, but why doesn’t she change her number or get Caller ID?

Anyway, it really pissed me the fuck off that I called his house, but Sandy answered. I hung up the first time around, but the second time she answered, I began to tell her what I’d do to her husband if he didn’t cut all contact with the girls, but as I should’ve known, she hung up. Then I tried Larry’s business number, but that was disconnected. Then I tried Doe and Art, but that too, was disconnected. I should’ve known that bitch would go to such extremes. If she could change her email address, of course she’d change her number. Did she move again too?

So I thought about forcing Larry to change his number by pranking him in a non-traceable way, by just letting it ring a half a second, then hanging up, and back and forth, but I realized it wouldn’t do me any good. For him to change his work number, but not his home number, tells me something. He wants Lisa to be able to get through somehow. I really feel sorry for that girl if she’s still in touch with him! He’s just gonna hurt her, but sometimes kids have to learn the hard way. So be it then.

What I did end up doing was calling his local police department, telling them he was making harassing phone calls to me, and to please talk to him. The guy I spoke to said someone would call him, and he took down his address too, but I doubt he did call him. Then again, maybe he did, cuz I’d think that Larry would’ve called here by now if it weren’t for my complaint. The reason I did this, is to let his police department be aware of the fact that he’s trouble, so it’ll hopefully prevent him from pulling any shit on me in the future and maybe from pulling anymore on Tammy. If he did, he wouldn’t look very good with my complaint I phoned in. They keep a log of this shit. It’ll also hopefully send a message to this fuck that if he fucks with us, there’ll be consequences for it.

Someday, sooner or later, as it’s inevitably bound to be, Doe, Art, and Larry will all fuck each other over yet again, and what’ll probably be the last time, then Larry will go back to having no one on his side of the family, and Doe and Art will have no kids. Yeah, they know how to lose them one by one. Still, I wish I had been an only child! Think how much worse it’d have been if there were 6 of us! That’s a terrifying thought.

Later…

The dogs are still going off in spurts and the white car’s still here. It’s the white car for sure, too.

I just called info to see if there was a number listed for Larry’s business. I called the number I was given but didn’t get the machine I hoped to get. Instead, an older woman answered. She just said hello and sounded groggy, so maybe it wasn’t his business number, but I don’t know.

I’ve got to stop this! I’ve got to stop letting myself get so pissed off over these people! Giving them a piece of my mind won’t do shit, and they’re in the past. As I told Tom, this may sound selfish, but a part of me is seriously contemplating not giving Tammy our new address/number when we move and just walking away. She’s still too closely connected to Bill and Larry, although I know she doesn’t want to be. It’s just that every other time we talk, she tells me something about Bill or Larry that infuriates me, and I need to get away from this shit. I need to put my old experiences/memories/emotions to rest and get on with life, but I feel like my connection to Tammy keeps rekindling the past. It keeps the emotions alive and it’s not good for me. I deserve much more and much better than this in this day and age.

Later…

The white car left at 9:05. Right around Joebitch’s bedtime.