Today is Losers’ sorry excuse for a mamas’ birthday. Unfortunately, I will not be writing an epitaph like I wrote for my mama because R*** IS STILL ALIVE.
I knew her for forty-one years. Like Loser, she was one of the most destructive people who ever entered my life. She’s one of those people who makes me wonder why they are taking up space on the planet. My sister, my cousin and a few of my friends met her and were of the same opinion. R*** did her best to “put them in their place” when they didn’t treat her like the queen she though she was.
I wish my mama had met her. My mama would have reduced her to a puff of stale alcohol fumes in a minute flat.
R*** thought she knew everything about everything and loved to say “I’m a wealth of information” yet she thought Philadelphia was a STATE and blamed my “sexual incompetence” and “thin stature” for the reason her precious son begat girls.
She thought she was the cutest thing to ever sashay her ass down Main Street and was infuriated if you didn’t agree.
She loved to talk about when and where she had conceived her children and thought you should be interested. (Even Loser was uncomfortable hearing about that.)
She also loved to talk about her bathroom habits (especially when she had worms.) She taught Loser what she believed was “correct bowel movements” and he took it as the gospel. If his habits varied from what she had told him they should be, he thought he was going to die.
When she was drinking, she could expel shit from her mouth like a backed-up septic tank that hadn’t been emptied since the stone age.
She thought she was entitled to do and say anything she wanted. She thought she was “high and mighty” when in fact, most of the time she acted like less than poor white trash.
She has no qualms at all about saying the “N” word nor did Losers’ daddy. Loser NEVER said that word and he would have never allowed anybody else to but he excused his mama and daddy….because as he put it “that’s just mama and daddy.”
The only time we went to the beach together, I watched her put all the towels from her room and then from our room into her suitcase. (Maybe the manager told her she could have them.)
When we would go out to eat, I would watch her clean out the glass with a napkin and then put it in her purse. I watched her clean the silverware and put it in her purse, too. (Maybe the manager told her she could have those, as well.)
We were in a fabric store once and she didn’t like the price that was on a certain piece. She found a cheaper piece and switched the tags. When we went to check-out, the clerk “caught the mistake” and even though R*** argued with her and said that they had to sell it for the price that was on it, the clerk refused. I expected to be arrested at any moment due only to the “guilt by association” connection.
At the dinner table, she would lean to one side, “break wind” and with that hideous giggle say “when it needs to come out, you have to let it out.”
If she didn’t get her way or was questioned about her actions, she would strike back and call the person a liar or say that they “made up the craziest stories.”
She never accepted any responsibility for her actions and instead, cast the blame onto somebody else.
It wouldn’t surprise me if she thought she was the “holy mother” herself, considering that she gave birth to a son who later in life would call himself “God.”
Where is the fairness in that she has lived what most people would consider to be a wonderful life, while simultaneously painting misery with her wide brush of drunken insults and abuse?
Where’s the justice for a woman who was the catalyst in ostracizing a young girl because that girl wouldn’t tolerate her drunken outbursts and constant condemnations?
Where is the penance for having helped destroy the marriage of her oldest son because his wife wouldn’t capitulate to the demands and criticisms of a drunk?
Why has she been able to be a drunk almost her entire life and suffer absolutely no consequences health-wise or otherwise and my precious son who inherited her alcoholic gene will most likely die before he gets much older? Why can’t she drink herself to death and rid the world of a monstrous, soul-killing waste of life?
What kind of woman shamelessly encourages her sons’ infidelity by welcoming his WTC with open arms? What kind of woman posts remarks on social media, begging the WTC to “try again” after Loser betrayed HER…. (while he was betraying ME with the WTC?) What kind of woman posts comments under pictures about how Loser and his WTC are “looking good” while he’s still a married man? What kind of woman takes such pride in her son and his WTCs’ blatant lack of morality?
What kind of woman would buy me a DILDO to “practice on” because she assumed that I didn’t know how to “please her son in bed?” (Do you think she assumed the WTC had been around the block a few times so there was no need to buy her one?) Any woman who doesn’t think twice about fucking someone elses’ husband probably doesn’t need to practice “how to please a man.”
What kind of woman wanted me to discuss our sex life with her so that she could tell me “what I was doing wrong?” What kind of woman demanded that I “do my exercises” so that her precious son “wouldn’t FALL in…because after all, I had spit out four children?”
What kind of woman tried to get me to confirm that Loser still had the same “cutest little thing” she said he had as a little boy? I should have said…“yes, your son still has the cutest LITTLE thing.”
I admit that I didn’t have much experience with penis size comparison but there are two sidebars: (1) I only saw Losers’ daddy drunk once and he was bragging to me about the length of his penis. Alas, Loser took after his mama. (2) When I was running EMS, I had to cut off many a mans’ pants and I just remember thinking….WHOA…what the hell is this?
If Losers’ mama knew her precious son didn’t “measure up” I’m sure she would find some way for it to be my fault…like accusing me of not “doing my exercises” which made it impossible for Loser to build up “his muscle.”
One of our good friends who has known R*** for years and has seen her drunk on many occasions, recently shocked the Hell out of me.
When they found out that I had divorced Loser, they said “I couldn’t stand R***. She was so low-class. It’s no surprise that J*** repeatedly gravitated toward that kind of woman. We all knew what was going on and none of us understood it, but he was the great J*** H***. He wanted a good girl for a wife and he wanted trash like his mama on the side.” Then they repeated that tired phrase “I never could understand how you could stand being married to him.”
How unfortunate that my life has been forever scarred by those two lying, self-important, self-obsessed, self-serving, narcissistic egomaniacs. IT’S CLEAR HOW LOSER BECAME THE MAN HE IS.
There will be no happy birthday wishes from me.
There will only be a last…GOOD RIDDANCE TO BAD RUBBISH.
Maybe when she finally kicks off and goes to that great ABC store in Hell, her tombstone should read:
HERE LIES THE REAL “WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT.”
MAY SHE FERTILIZE THE SOIL IN THE GREAT “STATE” OF GREENVILLE.