I'd like to use the pot scrubbers pictured here on Sweetie's youngest sister - Ms. Perfect, All-Knowing, Arrogant, Controlling Bitch. Problem is I could never make enough to clean the scum off her.
Instead, I'll make a few more out of the onion and orange bags I've been stashing beneath the kitchen sink and maybe send her one with a tube of Preparation H.
There are enough idiots and arses in the world without her getting under my skin. Once in a great while, some of them are lucid enough to actually examine their surroundings and think. Not this bitch.
Today, Sweetie took a check (in both their names) to her from the Christmas tree farmer. About 20 acres is planted here between his property and hers. It arrives every year in January, in time to pay part of the winter taxes. And every damn year Miss Bitch has got to drag her feet and try NOT cash the check so he will get his third of the check.
Today was no exception. When it did no good to criticize him or make more stupid excuses, she criticized me. Wrong thing to do!
He finally got tired of her tactics and sat down at the kitchen table. Mind you, to her he's like a bad case of lice. Sitting at the table means she's probably taken straight beach to the whole room by now.
When he wouldn't budge she flew into him about me. Soon after they were nose to nose about to get physical when his 96-year-old mom came into the room and banged her walker. They both grow quiet and his mom said she'd give him a check if her daughter wants to "be so mean and act like a child."
I gotta tell you, for her to say anything derogatory about her daughter meant the earth had just opened up. So the three of them stand there in absolute quiet until the bitch says: "well, if that ____________ that lives with him would get off her hind end and get a job, he wouldn't be so hard up for money."
Well, for warned is for armed, as they say, and the bitch didn't duck.
I'm not in favor of a man hitting a woman, having been on the receiving end myself, but I gotta say, I don't feel one bit bad for her.
After the slap to her face Sweetie claims he was just as stunned as she was. Then, his mother spoke: "(her name) it's about time you got some of your own medicine." To which the bitch started to object. "No (her name), maybe you've never slapped him but your words and the way you've treated him his entire life has always been a slap."
Goooooooooooooooo Mama! I never though she had it in her!
So I'm sitting here proud of my man and amazed that his mother spoke up. Then, the phone rings and miracle of miracles, it's the bitch. She says, "I apologize for saying the things I did about you."
I accepted her apology - though I confess I was thinking a few other things.
Then she said, "Well, aren't you going to say anything?"
"Like what," I ask.
"Oh never mind," she said, sounding real frustrated.
"Well, there is one thing," I said. "You don't know me; you have never made an attempt to know me; and whatever your anger and frustration is, aiming it at me solves nothing. After 60 years, if you don't realize you can't control you brother, you never will. If our life frustrates you, get used to it. We're not about to change."
She said nothing and I hung up.
Imagine, being so miserable that you have to control everone and everything around you! It's a sad, waste of life.