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So now the Terrorist Organization Know as the Evils’s aka. TOKE {for short and also for what they make me want to do everyday} have finally released the bio agent that brought Superdaddyman to his knees. Many days of agonizing fevers, coughing, water eyes, sore throats, and restless sleeping, have complicated just about everything that I hold dear. I haven’t been able to hang out in the chat rooms because the text scrolling about has made me dizzy. Talking on the phone has been out of the question because everyone’s voices have been like jackhammers on my poor pounding head, and I can’t talk very good. My Blogs have been THE ONLY thing keeping me going these last few days. Not just mine but everyone else’s of course.

Three events, are what base this edition of Livin’ With Evils’s, one of which has already been covered a few days ago, to a point, as TOKE tried to infiltrate their own brand of havoc on an unsuspecting amusement park, during one of the busiest weekends of Nooooo Hampshah’s tourist season, but unfortunately there was some after math that preceded that even that must be covered here today. I must of course take you back a week to truly understand the nature of my ulcer. It was the morning that my girlfriend was here, so I have to be reasonably honest about it since there is another witness to the whole thing, but Greektradgedius Inyiddish, came to us rather concerned about Lazius Boycrazius’s Brassiere situation as it was becoming apparent that Superdaddyman’s solution to just give her money, and allowing her to deal with the embarrassing (especially if Superdaddyman is involved) chore of buying bra’s for a 12 year old girl.

The total failure in all of this, as unfortunately happens when you have a teen or nearly teenage daughter without a mother, is that she had to rely on her friends to help her buy bra’s, and lets just say “Not all women are created equal”, as she did what most pre teen girls would do, and bought the cute little training bra’s {yanno the ones with the pretty little bow in the front, even though NOBODY BETTER EVER SEE IT!!!} like her friends do. The fact of the matter is this, as my poor daughter will be having back problems in the future to put it very mildly, and it took my Grandmother (Greektradgedius Inyiddish) and my Aunt (Reality Dysfixiation) to not only point this out to me, but to try and assist in rectifying this situation. They spent the day at the mall to only discover that my 12 year old is a 36D and this new bit of information is going to make Superdaddyman’s other job as Virginity Defender, all that much more difficult, in the future. At least that is how it really translated to a man like me, and it is all about me after all isn’t it?

Let us now go forward a week to “Operation Havoc at Canobie” where I took the evils’s to the amusement park, with a hundred of my co-workers, most of which I had never noticed, and wasn’t exactly looking for either, as I had my hands full enough realistically. Well apparently a lot of them noticed me from a distance, and I had really become the talk of work that Monday as we all returned. It wasn’t until later in the day that one of my co-workers confronted me with the data that they had all collected throughout the day that I was about to have one of those Single Daddy with Daughter Conniption Fits that I wish on EVERYONE!!!

“Hey sorry I didn’t get to say hi, I saw your two kids, which were pretty cute, but your girlfriend was pretty hot dude.” was all he said, as I felt all of the shivering ickies filling my whole body. I knew instantly what he meant. Was I first going to excoriate him for looking at my daughter that way, or chastise him for not remembering that I have three kids to begin with? I very calmly looked at him, and said verbatim “I think that all three of my kids are pretty cute, and I don’t like the word ‘HOT’ used about any of them,” and the word of my reaction spread throughout the factory.

I was pretty sick, 102 degree fever, the most humid day I ever remember, and if that wasn’t enough having everyone at work come up and tell me that I am going to have a hard time keeping control of my “HOT” daughter made it all that much worse. By the end of the day, I had resigned myself to saying “EeeUwwwwww“ or “She’s 12 you perverts,” and trying to leave it at that. I am probably going to have to start wearing my ominous muscle shirts and scowl to work now that I used to have to save for all of my chaperoning duties at the school dances. This is not a very good idea as we are supposed to have long sleeves to work with asphalt, but it’s part of the job being a Single Father with daughters isn’t it?

I am sitting at home today {Tuesday} since I try to write my Blogs a day in advance, just in case I get really busy with my duties of keeping TOKE in line, and talking with my friends online. I called in sick today, so that perhaps this awful fever can break, but as I sit here typing this I have a little grin on my face, knowing that all that interpersonal communication with all of my coworkers yesterday has probably accomplished one great thing! The Bio Organism that the Terrorist Organization Known as the Evils’s has probably had time to infest every single one of those A-holes and I will probably go back to an empty factory tomorrow. ;8o)

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So I have been trying to get my 360 page in shape these days. Like any man I am like a little boy with a new toy, and the overall appearance of my 360 page is incredibly important to me. Recently I started asking only men to join my 360 page, because I have generally been concerned about looking like a pervert, due to that fact that realistically only women ask me to link 360’s with them. The reception to this has been pretty good, or at the very least, no men so far have run off screaming because they think I am gay. This tends to be a problem with men in general as it appears to be a homosexual trait to many that any man be touchy feely, or emotional in any way. Even when it comes to AA or the fellowship in general this can be a very regional subject. Around here, when you go to an AA meeting you most likely will be met at the door by men who will expect hugs, and that was something I got over a long time ago. Ask anyone who I have conned into going to my home group, and they will tell you “When a 6 foot something or other 300+ pound man walks up and muckles on to you, you hug back damnit!”

Around the country in general this changes dramatically. I go to a meeting every Saturday night, that is 100 miles away, and has very different recovery at it. You see those Rhode Island commitments … well they don’t hold hands … yuck cooties … when they say the Lords Prayer at the end of the meeting a lot of the time. I am pretty sure that the men don’t hug either, but I would love to see the shock and dismay on their faces if they walked into my home group! I have seen this quite a bit over the years especially when the van comes in from the local rehab, and I just think to myself, “Once you are comfortable in your heterosexuality it doesn’t matter anymore.” This also translates to when one of my gay friends in AA checks me out, or tells me that I have the body of a Gay Gigolo, I realize that it is about as high of a compliment as you can get, especially when a gay man knows that intolerance will get them in trouble, and a woman rarely has to suffer such compliments out loud.

Women differ greatly in these regards from what I have seen. I find incredible amusement at the contest to have more Yahoo 360 friends than anyone else, that The Babe from Just South of Here, The Farmers Daughter From The Big Flower, and now The Native Goddess from Birch Beer Land, seem to be having. I get updates on who’s page you have to go to, to steal the most amount of people from {At present time it is Oh My God You’re A Gurl! But The Native Goddess is going to overtake her pretty soon} and I personally say … have at it ladies. I have asked about 1/3 of my list to join, and have been delighted at everyone who has asked me to join. The quantity means nothing to me because it would simply mean more blogs for me to read everyday {and for those of you on my 360 page I do read every one of your blogs!} and in turn more creative idea’s that I have to co-opt as well. My Fishy Friend made me quite jealous talking about his beautiful landscaping that he is doing, thus forcing me to plot a waterfall or Koi pond for myself {I always wanted one, it was just the extra incentive I needed really}, and Chandlers Hubby, talking about a tree house made me want to start thinking about that as well. Men, and all of their creative juices, inspired by the jealousy of our neighbors {laughing}.

I have had a few IM’s from the women on my messenger list {go figure more women ask to add me thus forcing me to ask men to be added for balance in the “Gee I hope I don’t look like a pervert” department there too}, who keep very strong count of how many comments they have after their blog entries. Well such and such got 5 comments and you got 8 … I only got 2 and I was one of them! Everybody hates me, they like you … oh God. This is another screamer, because I love all of the comments I get, but it was never the reason I wrote my blogs to begin with. Hell no actually I originally wrote my first blog to brag about how well I was, and after getting a few comments telling me I might have been mistaken about how well I was. I then wrote another one to try to hide the first one, using a little passive aggressive humor to try to mask any seriousness, that was taken the wrong way initially. The legend of Superdaddyman was born through my own ability to poke fun at myself. In reality I was terrified to get comments, I thought they would be telling me how egotistical I was, how I wasn’t that funny … etc etc etc … Now of course I don’t know if this is a male trait or just a self loathing trait, but as a boy I claim it for my gender all the same. The most important thing that separates the cats & dogs in blogland is that women do comment much more frequently on blogs than men do. I try to comment as often as necessary to break that stereotype, but not everyday, as it would make me look like a cheerleader {grinning}. In the end I definitely make the effort to comment on first blog entries, because I desperately want everyone to be hooked on them like me .. My name is Jeremy … and I’ll be your dealer today ;8o)

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So somewhere along the lines I became funny, I don’t know when that was, but it has been a common theme amongst those that read my Blogs, that I have a decent sense of humor. In reality I think that my gratitude for being alive today resonates among those who have the same feeling in general. Of course I was born with the ability to add irony to anything that I come across, and I add a lot of that to my life experience. Almost everything can be construed as funny, if it is placed in the right light at the time. My grandfathers funeral for instance {please note that THIS is truly how my grandfather would wish to be remembered} tends to be looked at as a bunch of people who really hated this person {trust me on that one} who stood around crying because they had just lost him. My mother, as a good example absolutely refused to talk to the man for the last two years before he died, and to this day shows no remorse for it. My aunt who had been separated from the family for at least 12 years, cried like a baby, while the Greek Mafia that she had married into, stood off to the side, partly looking overbearing, but mostly looking scared. My grandmother who never had a good word to say about the man was a mess, my first wife was standing there with the man she was going to be living with in about 2 months {or should I say the day after I moved out … this is ex 1 we are talking about}, and all of his drinking buddy’s were well drunk. None of these events were much different then what any of us would experience at a time like this I would imagine, I mean we were about to bury Archie Bunker, for Christ’s sake, and most of us are still convinced that he was drinking beer all day, and thought a few extra belts of insulin would take care of the extra sugar. I wonder if he actually used the other side of my family’s death cry .. “Hey ya’ll watch this!!” as he was killing himself.

Well here’s where it is different, and I can now break into what you all come to expect of me, levity, and explain this situation from the eyes of the one family member who actually liked this man, and it is shown every Memorial day, as I stand over this mans grave smoking a cigarette, and lighting one that I buried in the ground just over where I think his head would be. He had quit smoking for almost 30 years and swore he was going to start again at 70 because he loved it so. He of course died a couple of months before 70, and that irony has always amused me. Now keep in mind I at least think the head would be there, but I wasn’t allowed at the burial, and it is a family plot with a headstone in the middle, so I assume that it is at that end. He would think it was funny that I go there every year and give him a hot foot too, so I am pretty safe. A lot changes in 2 months you see, but let me get back to telling the story of my grandfathers death properly. Let me tell you that as the only family member who actually liked this man, and the only one who was sober at the time {9 years to be exact}, and quite frankly the only one who had actually heard the giant popping sound that only comes, when your head comes out of your ass.

I got the call from a friend of my grandfathers. I was living with my first wife, and was actually sleeping with my second wife {she didn’t know it yet either}, Captain ADHD was actually on the way, and we didn’t know it yet. “The Meanest Woman God Ever Created” and I had decided many months before this to accept her affair, and try to get past it. Keeping it to ourselves you see, wasn’t working out, and when it had become obvious that it wasn’t ending any time soon, I did what anyone with 9 years sober would do, I got even with her! Oh I am sooooooo well! So I pulled out my brick sized cell phone (at the time it was the ultra compact model, it only weighed about 3 pounds) and answered from my soon to be second wife’s bed. “Your father is in the hospital Jeremy, it doesn’t look good!” came the voice on the other end, and I shot up out of bed, and started trying to differentiate between my clothes and the future Mrs. Sicko’s, and off I went. I was terrified, I mean my father was pretty bad in the alkie department. He sold his car when he couldn’t find it one night, on a bender. He often left food burning on the stove, and I would go over to his house to check on him ALOT. I couldn’t believe that he was in the hospital, and I was in another state {mental note … when having an affair don’t drive so far for it next time, try that chippie down the street or something}. Upon arriving at the hospital, I was met by my grandmother, my wife {The Meanest Woman God Ever Created} and … my father? Oh yeah, my grandfathers friends were all drunks too, I thought at the moment, before I even batted an eyelash. My grandmother was crying, and it couldn’t have been good. Well yeah he was dead alright, I looked over his body, and the first thing I could think was, wow he lost about 30 lbs, that diet was working pretty good for him. Needless to say, that little experience infuriated my wife at the time, she had to field a lot of “Where’s Jeremy, and why are you with Namechangedtoprotecttheinnocent?” oh yeah, guess where she was at the time? You probably guessed it. We left together, and pretended that all was right with the world, and it all turned into a “So I guess you were having fun?” argument from both of us. This lasted of course right up until the funeral, which happened 3 days later.

Ok here comes the funeral, it was the usual, funeral home, casket in the corner, friends of the deceased and family. Soon to be exes all around, and many different types of people to deal with. My Aunts “chosen” family was all there, each and every one of them totally intolerable. Her husband, the mentally abusive newspaper editor, who slept with everyone except her, and her two totally spoiled rotten creeps, of children. I of course had to stroll over there first. This dickhead always looked scared around us, because like most total pigs, he always had that air of “who’s on to me” about him. Being the total hypocrite that I am, I walked over and pointed out the group of men on the other side of the room, and casually said “They’re cops, and you are alive because they are here, don‘t f***in talk, and leave as soon as you can,” and I walked away, with the shock and horror that I was used to from those three anyway. Now as I tried to make it out of this room the Sergeant of this bunch, who I had always been on a first name basis with {totally out of hatred on both ends} pulled me aside, to have a word with me. “You see your grandfathers store is full of guns, here are the locations of the really illegal ones, and there is a garbage bag of marihuana in the cubby behind the desk … don’t forget all of those cable descramblers …” I was staring at him with that “why me” expression on my face, not saying a word, he said “You are the one who would know how to get rid of that stuff, if anyone in your family could” and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity, as I said, “And fortunately I am a lot smarter than you, so I know that you would get your balls cut off for setting me up … entrapment,” which he said “Yes” thus showing that he didn’t much care about what I had to say anyway. Please keep in mind that the marihuana was not a joke either, my grandfather never smoked it but took great pride in growing it. It was his way of showing society I guess, that they can‘t bring him down! My grandmother just wished he would stop growing it in the front yard in pots so that everyone driving by could see it. “Can’t you just grow it out back, in the ground, and make it look like it was accidentally there or something?”

My grandmother was going on and on talking about what a beautiful man he was, and this sure was different then what she used to tell me, and everyone else, but hell it was her day I guess. She later became the artist known as “Greektradgedius Inyiddish” In my writings. My semi-famous mother {semi-famous is so much worse than famous or not known at all in the way that a semi-famous person constantly name drops to make herself feel important} was walking around the place trying to be the Diva of the whole event, she even made sure to tell everyone that, just in case they hadn’t noticed for themselves, and my aunt was desperately trying to kiss her stupid, sports hating (unless you count hunting) loser of a husband, ass so that he would stop whining about how mean I am. Now mind you … at this time in my life I had hair down to my ass, and I was dressed kinda like a goombah, I think but probably more like a pimp with better taste. My grandfathers friend who found him just told the story of how he tried to give my grandfather mouth to mouth, and all the bile came wooshing into his mouth … AGAIN, and there was only one more fabulous disaster to undergo before the night could be complete. How could it possibly get any better?

It was after my wife was caught kissing my best friend, I think, that she decided to make the drunken proclamation, that I had been having an affair. “Well Jeremy is of with his whore all of the time!“ Everyone there including the pastor was staring at me, many of these people whom I have come to enjoy being smarter than, and having the leg up on were just salivating as they stared at me. The hole that I wanted to just open up in the floor and swallow me, just wasn’t coming, and I was so screwed. Despite my desperate want to just stand up with a butcher knife and yell “THANKS FOR RUINING THE FUNERAL!!!!!” because it seemed to always work in ending the other family get-togethers, I was left to stand there gulping. Now my freaking ex had been cheating on me WAY longer, and we (I thought) had decided that it would stay in house, the rules had changed somewhat. The sad part was, as life often goes, those first with the news are often right, in the minds of everyone. The scum sucking crap, that I had been forced to admit being related to for so many years, completely disowned me from that point on, and I am not joking. Was it a blessing or a curse?

I found out a few weeks later that EX2 was pregnant, and my family wasn’t talking to me, my soon to be ex wife, and her boyfriend were going to all of my family get-togethers, and I wasn’t allowed. I missed my grandmothers 70^th birthday, because my ex and her boyfriend were there, and the whole family ignored my next birthday. My mother finally showed up at my sons birth, to look at him and proclaim that he isn’t mine, and I finally was able to cut loose those ties. You are only as sick as your secrets, I guess is what I learned from all of this. Total honesty, has helped me to avoid this type of crap now a days, as any of the nasty little secrets that most people keep are simply common knowledge when dealing with me. Unfortunately all of the family did come back to me years later {after my father got furious with everyone and questioned their sanity, because he had seen EX1 cheating on me all the time}, many of them had amends, the ones expecting amends for things that didn’t involve them still know that they can go to hell, as far as I am concerned. This includes my mother by the way. Any woman I have been with from that point on has known point blank, day one, you cheat on me I tell everyone, and paint a big scarlet letter on you, and then you leave to be miserable, elsewhere! No more second chances so that I can look like a fool. Manipulation does not come naturally to me, so when I end up with a woman, she is usually very good at it. So my only line of defense against it which seems to work is removal not compassion. Of course the truly important message in all of this is that I have learned from every stupid thing I do, as well as what I try to think I am brilliant for … In the coined phrase of “Some are sicker than others,” I often throughout my sobriety have fallen under the heading of some as apposed to others. ;8o)

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Oh a wonderful day at the amusement park, with three wild animals that I had to take, or else I would have been an awful parent. The company sponsored this little shindig, and I thought that it would be sheer hell due to the fact that I couldn’t just pick one of the kids up when they got out of hand and throw them over my shoulder. You see as a work function, the people who would love nothing more than to catch me breaking my lifting restrictions happened to be all around me, at the moment. I originally asked if I could bring a friend with me to carry Captain ADHD around by his hair if he decided that he was going to climb up the roller coaster and the answer was no, but I still figured, free amusement park, free food, no kids would equal bad daddy for sure. This all was the least of my problems, and I really should have assessed the situation far better before I decided to throw on my cape and boots and do a Superdaddyman special guest appearance, especially in front of all of the people I work with.

The most notable change between this year and last year is that Captain ADHD is now exactly 49 inches tall, so this qualifies him for all of the big people rides. Imtoocutus unfortunately is only a peanut, at 40 so she and I got to sit down a lot while Captain ADHD, and Lazius Boycrazius would assault new things like the roller coaster … well um … Captain ADHD was too scared for that actually, so they went off to the flying bobs, which was right up his alley. Unfortunately, that was probably the ride that Lazius Boycrazius, ended up losing Greektradgedius Inyiddishes Cell Phone which Superdaddyman thought would be good for her to have so that we could …. Well get the hell away from each other, and still be able to stay in touch. Did I mention that this was the first ride, and she already lost a 150$ cell phone? I of course thought I was going to cry my brains out, because Greektradgedius Inyiddish was going to pout, and whine, and fall to the floor kicking into the worst rendition of the 2 year old drop ever known to this earth, when she found out that her cell phone was gone. For those of you who don’t know who Greektradgedius Inyiddish is … shame on you … read my damn blog more often.

Now a 76 year old woman, who had actually stolen that phone from me in the first place, and was still living off of my 30 or so dollars of prepaid airtime, you would probably think would probably accept these things, perfectly reasonably. Well this is what makes you reality disaffiliated and not me. You see I understand the reverse maturity process because I live it every day. The moment she had co-opted that phone from me it became a part of a reality that an old lady could only understand as MINE MINE MINE, and yes it really does resemble that of a totally irrational 3 year old. I may own this house, for example, but everything I bring into it, or already have had on the property, before during or after her tentative stay here at the Casa De Evils’s is now officially hers, and yes she does whine a little when she says it. Kinda reminds me of Yoda, when he stole the flashlight from Luke in The Empire Strikes Back. So I now had to deal with three little evils’s all day knowing that I had to come home to face a really big evil, who is going to pile 8 gajillion pounds of guilt on me. Ok feels like a Saturday.

I really never had the opportunity to notice how calm Captain ADHD can be when he is actually under the influence of his Adderol either. He was rather easy to deal with for a good chunk of the day. Imtoocutus on the other hand was none to happy about being excluded from the cool rides, and was going to make that known. She nagged to go on every single big people ride till we found one that would take her if she was with Superdaddyman, defender of the poor innocent little evils’s, so we had to go on it. You see the problem here is that I didn’t really research this one to well. It was a new ride called “The Boston Tea Party” and I was thinking, well how Patriotic, had cute little pictures of revolutionary war stuff, and a very short line that was moving very fast. We were all excited, and just gingerly walked through the roundabouts till we got into the …. Um … boat I guess you would call it. The ride went up a very steep climb, and then took a long winding turn until you were at the very top of a super large drop. At the bottom was an awful lot of water, and when we hit it, the water flew up about 50 feet in the air and totally covered us, and all of the people on the bridge leaving the ride. I was soaked to the bone, and as we passed under the bridge a steady waterfall on each side, simply coated what little dry parts you have left. This was at 1pm, and I was drenched with much more fun ahead of me.

Now as the day was wearing on, we were inundated with cheesy NH style amusement park talent, like the Britney Spears, and Elvis look a likes. Now mind you, a fat Hispanic woman who looks about 35, wearing fishnet thigh highs and a bustiere doesn’t really pass as a good Britney Spears clone, to begin with, but telling me to accept the black man playing Elvis was probably pushing it too. The classic Szarahism to come out of all of that was when she looked at me and said “Britney Spears is a much different type of ho daddy”, and that one really ranked up there with the comment she made after Janet Jackson’ wardrobe malfunction at the Super Bowl {I was humiliated because my daughter (at the time 11) was sitting next to me, and she simply looked around at everyone there and said “I told you Janet Jackson was so last decade that she would do anything to be noticed again”} which is one of the advantages of having her around sometimes. Captain ADHD was starting to get over his meds, and Imtoocutus was obviously suffering from “lack of nap syndrome” to boot, but Lazius Boycrazius, wasn’t too happy with not having someone to go on her rides with her.

I finally put the word out that they each got to pick one more ride, because at this time we had been here for over 6 hours, and I had had enough of all of the codependent women in this joint by now. I will never understand how a sick woman can look at an inept man with 3 kids, who is borderline making a fool out of himself in public, and being passive aggressive just to get by, has to stare at him all dreamy like. I mean, I realize that it is the goal of most women to be a savior to someone, until they get bored with them, but come on, I truly am the most pitiful looking thing ever when I am out in public with my kids. Show some self respect ladies. The second to last ride we went on had a huge line, and the whole time, the railings had become a more intriguing part of the ride than the ride. I had no way in hell of keeping any of these three under control, and it really did look like a 3 stooges marathon, with little hope. 1 Kicks, 2 Cry, 1 Whines … it was becoming unbearable, and everywhere I looked staring. Not that typical staring I get when I am without kids … the “Man is that man a Crack Head or what?” it was definitely the stereotypical, “Oh my God, they could ruin my whole life while I try to fix them …. GOODIE” stare that really gives me the creeps.

So after all of our fun had withered away, I dragged my incredibly grateful children, kicking and screaming from the park, as they shouted such wonderfully loving, joyful things like, “You hate us!” and “You never want us to have any fun!!”, and “Can you get me a Cell Phone so I don’t have to borrow and lose other peoples?”, and we crawled into the Yiddle bus to drive away to that happy place we call hole sweet hell, or the Casa Di.Evils’s ;8o)

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Here's proof that some threads never die, they just go away for a while, and are just waiting to come back at a later time. Here it is Saturday morning, and I am writing my blog entry that I so desperately wanted to do yesterday, but never could get around to because I was completely overwhelmed with IM’s and children wreaking havoc throughout my house. There have been times in my online existence that I swore, I could just sink into the floor at any moment, and nobody would notice. I usually make a joke of this, as there have been certain times in the day in the FOBW room, and my IM list that I just call invisibility moments. I of course, end up over trying to be noticed, like a sad little Bart Simpson jumping around yelling “Look at me, Look at me!!“ and usually end up with someone telling me that I am the only one who thinks I am funny, or in turn am laughing at my own jokes. This is usually during those times, when one of the “other” more notable room flirts are around, and it is impossible for everyone to divert their attention between 2 or 3 of us. There are others {like yesterday} where my popularity is so amazingly overwhelming that I cannot satisfy that ridiculous need to people please. Now don’t get me wrong, I love the attention, and sometime in the next few days I will be invisible again, and crying in my coffee about it, one of the many rewards of co-dependency.

Lately I have been in the room less, as my blogging time is eating up much more of my sociable online allowance. Although I do write a rather long winded blog entry everyday, I read every one of the blogs that are attached to me through 360 as well, and man have they been good. Anyone who started blogging because of me, or have linked themselves to me along the way have at the very least gotten one dedicated fan, and that would be me, as well. The most fun that I have been having with the whole “As the Blog Turns” concept of this side of me, is linking many of the people I truly care about, for whatever sick reason I see fit, to my blog through codenames. At last count I think there are over 2 dozen of you intertwined throughout my blogs in one way or another, and I am proud that you all have managed to figure out who you are. The best gift though are the “new” trail of online friends who found me through the blog, as we weren’t really in sync throughout the broken merry go round, but were desperately in need of each other, so God linked us this way.

I would like to steal a little line of thought from a woman I have absolutely no contact with anymore. I think she didn’t ever really existed, except for the illusion of her that once lived in the FOBW, and for the most part all that she ever did for me was create enemies. She was one of those predatory people who lurked in the room and made up stories, to whatever end she was trying to achieve, and despite all of the enemies that she inflicted upon me in the end, I did end up with a very good analogy, that I am going to co-opt for the purposes of my own ego, and hopefully help everyone understand what I am getting at today. Don’t worry though I am going to give “The Fairy Tale from Arizona” full credit for telling me this one ahead of time. She said that she got this from her sponsor, which I will take at face value, despite the evidence that she never really let the facts get in the way of a good line of BS.

In our lives we treat our existence like a large woven basket. Every person who adds to the basket that is us are what we should be calling our basket weavers, and I have compiled a small list in my heart of the people who have helped create the basket that is Jeremy. Carefully meshed together the some of my parts are what make me whole, and I couldn’t make it through life without all of you, There are the people who give me the weavings necessary for strength {like … My Long Lost Sistah from Joisey, The Misguided Liberal from Derbyland, The Babe from Just South of Here, and The Silly Princess out West to name a few}, there are weavings to make my basket colorful {like …. My Wildest Dreams, and My Wildest Dreams - Southern edition, The Native Goddess from Birch Beer Land, The Farmers Daughter from the Big Flower, and The Green Mountain Goddess to name a few more}, then there are the unique strands that give me hope {like …. Mi Bellah from Mizzurah, The Beautiful One, The A-hole in El Lay, and many many others}, and lastly there are the weavings that are just there and at times I am not happy that I know them at all, but other times, I might have actually learned something from them {The sick bitch who gave me the basket analogy, and the people who hate me because of her, and probably a lot of the other fake ass losers that have come along of course} but without any {and all} of these parts, I am not the person you know, and some of you might actually love.

If you pass me on the internet, and for some ungodly reason I seem occupied, please don’t take it the wrong way, I probably am occupied. If you are able to reach me in an IM, then you are actually a very special person to me. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have made it onto my IM list, or my 360 list at all. Unfortunately Singledaddyman, has to save a lot of the world at times, and loves each and every one of you, just for being who you are! ;8o)

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So it finally happened the first actual family gathering that involved my kids, myself, my immediate family (grandmother, aunt, her fiancé), my ex wife, and her girlfriend. It was incredibly uneventful really. My ex and I got along famously, like we had never even gotten divorced, her present acted like she had been a member of the family all along, and my family behaved. BORING!!!!! How dare all of these people not give me good blog material! I swear I am going to have to pray for all of those bastards. I mean do they not understand how much everyone out there in blogland depend on their surreal antics to keep them all laughing? Do they not understand that perhaps if we had one of those old fashioned family dinners, then everyone out there would have wonderful visions of how their family life isn’t that bad? Oh you haven’t heard about one of my old fashion family get-togethers? Well if the Yeager side of my family is going to be a boring get-together then let me take you to the other side of my family … Banjos please …

Now for all of you who were hoping for another edition of “Things you learn from the Ex Wife’s Girlfriend” or “Living with Evils’s”, just because it was looking like it could be a barn burner, well it just wasn‘t. Let me in turn apologize for the lack of show material and bore you with another volume of “Deadly Sins Therapy”. Instead of just talking about the Malice/Anger aspect of the deadly sins that my family brings upon me {or should I say I brought upon them}, I will also talk about the kindness I in turn had to use to counteract some, if not all of my malice, after it was all said and done. Love em or not, they are family, and sooner or later you always have to admit to being related to some people. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t mind airing my dirty laundry. Makes it pretty damn hard to dredge up my secrets to throw in my face, when all is said and done. This might be a little boring to all of you who come from sick, alcoholic, and co-dependant families like I have. Perhaps I will be able to make it up to you in a later Blog, but I have to go with what I have, as Imtoocutus’s party was just bland.

So if I were to go back to the last Fink {yeah that last name in and of itself could be a blog waiting to happen, don’t bother telling me} family get together that I had attended was back in 1988, for those of you who can’t do the math, it would place us to about 8 months before I came to AA this last time, and took it seriously, recovered from my hopeless state of mind and body, and started my path toward recovery. With that said, this was NOT one of the times I was actually in recovery, although, I had been not drunk, and a member of AA for about 17 months at this time, before my inevitable relapse, because that is what sick people do, when they have untreated alcoholism, but I digress. You see in my family, especially the potato picking part of my family, the tree kinda doesn’t branch out much. I often joke that my father was the black sheep for marrying outside the family, and I was worse than that for having actual non Maine DNA in me. Our family get-togethers were nothing more than an opportunity to get drunk, and cause enough emotional pain to hold us off till the next one, especially Thanksgiving. As we often liked to call it Thanksgettinging, and get out a-hole.

I have joked very often because I was the ONLY sober {for lack of a better word} person to show up to one of these things in about 6 generations. This of course didn’t add to the fuzzy feelings that all of these inbred losers had for me to begin with, but it did put me in pretty good shape for what was to always come at Thanksgiving. It’s pretty simple really, we would sooner or later break off into pairs of two, and start duking it out {ya know like most normal families do} in a sort of sick and twisted “Celebrity Boxing Tournament” each of us moving up the chain based on victory until the two remaining sicko’s would “take it to the lake” to see who would be that years winner. The winner was always proclaimed by my Grandmother coming out of the back door and waving a butcher knife yelling …. Yeah you probably guessed it already …. “THANKS FOR RUINING THANKSGIVING!!!!!” This entitled you to the greatest prize a family like mine could ever give you … The wonderful knowledge that you never have to come back.

I was a pretty lean 5’8” 125 lb ball of nothing, but I had speed, and a killer set of family resentments, that I learned about in rehab at this time, so I was ready for all comers. When the initial fight broke out, I started off with my cousin Bryan {This was the one who later on in life was immortalized on America’s Dumbest Criminals, when he and a bunch of friends broke into an audio/video store in Georgia, and like most idiots grabbed the video camera first, recorded all of their mayhem, making sure that they each held the camera for a bit, so that they ALL could be in the video, and then sold the camera to a pawn store with the tape still in it … yeah we all saw it … damn genetics}, and he was an easy one. Little creep never could hold his liquor, and got blinded by his own vomit. My grandfather was next, and he wasn’t going to be easy, even if he was riddled with colon cancer, them former outlaw bikers do fight really dirty yanno. Fortunately for me his own knees beat him, so I was off to fight for the grand prize … off to the lake we go.

Now mind you, my Uncle is a tuff son of a bitch, he retired from the Marines a Major, and his specialty was officially killing things. The worst was definitely ahead of me, and despite my violent temper, this was not to be a very good test of my incredible dry drunk mentality. For the record, that was the last day my uncle ever drank, since he found AA meetings while he was in the hospital first with broken ribs, and then with withdrawals. He has been sober roughly 7 and a half months longer than I have been. When my grandmother sounded the final bell with her rousing rendition of, “THANKS FOR RUINING THANKSGIVING!!!!!” I had just about drowned him, and I was using some wonderful language about his mother, and how he had that coming for a very long time. It pretty much took every, still standing male in the family to pull me off of him, since the usual butcher knife approach had gotten old, and had lost it’s teeth. Besides, I was at the very least the closest thing to sober that had ever been to this farce before, so I actually knew she would never use it. Congratulations Master Fink, you have finally accomplished what your father took another year to do, but had always been trying so hard to do …. Total banishment to the Maine Potato Unions answer to the Hatfield’s, and even if you marry your own cousin, you will never have another Thanksgiving in old Maine again. Little did I know that a lot of these people never would again.

The updates to this little fiasco are quite humorous as well. My cousin finally went to jail, not for the whole Americas Dumbest Criminals caper, but for failure to pay child support. 7 kids … 5 mothers … 4 states … what a loser! My grandfather unfortunately died in October the next year, he didn’t have to face another one of those God forsaken events, but the first thing I did sober (this time around) was I kidnapped him from the VA Hospital in Manchester, where they thought he was going to spend the rest of his life (ha … I showed them) and rode his ass out to Sturgis {on a Suzuki Intruder ha ha ha ha ha} where he swore he had the greatest week of his life, and my grandmother never forgave me for that (and unfortunately, as she lives in my duplex in Florida, with my father on the other side, she couldn‘t remember either, her senility disowned me many years ago too), but despite how much my father hated his father, and my irresponsibility, he told me afterwards that I made him proud for doing what was right by his dad. My uncle, well this as I eluded to was the funniest part of all, every Thanksgiving he calls me to thank me for showing him the way to Bill, as he always says it, which is why I truly believe in a good ass kicking getting you sober sometimes. :8o)

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So it wasn’t all that long ago that I actually believed in happy endings, I had sold myself on them so many times that I had completely blown myself into full scale love addiction. I was engaged once before I got married the first time, for anyone who didn’t know that. She was the woman that I was with when I got sober. She was a beautiful woman with a great heart, and a raging case of co-dependency. She was the one who when I suggested that she go to alanon, looked me square in the eyes and said, “My Father is an alcoholic, my mother is an alcoholic, all of my brothers are alcoholics, and to top it all off, my boyfriend now says he is an alcoholic. Do you really think I need alanon?” which answering with “Well Duh?” really started spiraling the whole relationship down the toilet.

No matter how long I stay sober, or how far away from the drink I actually am, I attract the same type of person, horribly, irresponsibly, vacantly, earth shatteringly, mind blowing Greek tragedies, known as Co-Dependants. Almost every one of them in denial, or worse yet, not in denial, and using it as the crutch to what awful little things they do. The best part about it all is that I enter into these little deluded fantasies with each and every one of them. Happily ever after, white picket fences, person to grow old with, la la la la la la la la, lock stock and barrel, I was the sickest of the wellest, or so I tried to convince myself, with every single woman that I took hostage, or yes in some cases allowed to take hostage of me. My first wife was my child hood sweetheart, it should have been happily ever after there correct? Well every sign that could have possibly been there to state otherwise laid in the middle of the street as I had run it down recklessly. She was nasty tempered, she was very vindictive, she was a hopeless, and shameless gossip, and worst of all she was horribly naïve to think that I was Mr. Right too. For despite all of my best intentions I had turned into the worlds greatest isolator, and she had all of the characteristics that a man could want in his excuse to isolate. She got sick of me working 70 hours a week and coming home to my “other job” running a home based online service, and hanging out in the IRC rooms when I wasn’t doing either. In the end, she started sleeping with my best friend, and with time, I stopped blaming her for that. I still take issue with how she turned my whole family against me, but that is a different story {laughing}. I showed her though, as I started sleeping with the first thing that would let me. The cheating contest had begun, and in the end I won it, because mine ended with a child {Captain ADHD … read the living with evils’s threads for more on Captain ADHD} and he is a beautiful boy.

Now the sad part about sleeping with a woman who is unfaithful to her husband and accepts you infidelities as well is that she probably is inevitably going to do it to you, and that is what she did. I don’t know when it started I don’t know how many men, and yanno, I really don’t care. Ok I don’t care now anyway. She inevitably after 3 years, which had hosted another baby, and my adoption of her daughter {Lazius Boycrazius … see the other blog entries as stated before} found the man who was going to take her away from me once and for all, while I was in the hospital with chicken pox, and near fatal Zoster Pneumonia. I was absolutely heartbroken, even if this relationship had not started out of love watching her give birth to my children had made me love her like nothing I think I will ever feel again. I was totally destroyed, confused, and a stark raving angry lunatic. I went into the hospital 210 lbs at 5’ 8’ with a wonderfully plump 36 inch waist (ok I guess it was hard for me to sell the wonderfully happy routine, but I tried), and when I got out the Pneumonia had already stripped 20 lbs off of me. The other 45 came off in the next 2 months as the insanity, had started riddling my brain.

I have suicidal tendencies, if you didn’t know (which you should damnit from my “My name is Jeremy and I am a Drunk” threads) and my method of suicide is always starvation. I had a new twist on it this time called “Exorcise Bulimia”. This new found Psychosomatic behavior manifested within me the feelings of “I will show her!” as I was going to the gym for at least 2 hours after every time I ate. I was spending at least 5 hours a day throwing around weights, and it all started with the 5 lb dumbbells I could barely lift, because when I got out of the hospital I was weaker than my youngest daughter. Body building had become my new girlfriend and she was never going to hurt me. The body fat on my frame was down to less than 4 percent within a year, and I was a very psychotic looking 5’8” 185 lb 30” waist freak, and my doctor said that I was going to die. My body was producing testosterone faster than I could hold. Any of the anti-depressants that he was giving me were just turning to adrenaline, and I wanted to kill all the time. Even though I consciously thought that I wanted to stop my own brain was holding me hostage. Women were expressing interest in me, and I was self medicating my love addiction through my suicidal tendencies, and dismissing every woman I met offhand. This was probably a good thing really in hindsight as I don’t think I would want a woman who wanted that man anyway. Did I mention that I was 12 years sober as this was going on?

I finally came down off of that lunacy, with the help of a new type of anti-depressants at the time called Celexa. It didn’t stimulate, it retained, and my mind was slowing down, and the beast was being calmed. I was not quite out of the woods yet, as I had now been given the clarity to pursue some more realistic goals in my life, I once again made my usual every few years escape from Nooooo Hampshah, and was off to New York, to just be the hell away from here. I progressed into a beautiful {oh my God I am laughing my ass off now … sorry} relationship with the woman who was to become my 3^rd wife. Sure she was about 13 years younger than me and awestruck by how wonderfully I treated her, and sure she helped me spend all of my life’s saving, but what the heck … this was forever wasn’t it? I mean it had all of the makings of being my happily ever after. She was a woman, and breathing, and loved me. When my oldest daughter came out to live with us in New York {because she couldn’t take another week of waiting for food stamps to eat, as she later confided in me} this woman was the perfect mother to her. I’m not kidding either, my daughter became a wonderful young lady in days of being out of that horrible situation she was in, and this woman was playing out the fantasy, I had always dreamed of. Unfortunately life got in the way of that fantasy, as we had to move back to Nooooo Hampshah {surprise surprise} due to a little accident.

Back here, we were happy for a while, she did her best, and in the end, the money ran out, we stopped being as in love as we had been, we actually stopped touching each other all together, and she woke up one day saying, “Why do I have to put up with all of this?” and she left. I don’t blame her for that really, even if a few of the problems I have today might have a little to do with her, they definitely don’t enough to make me bitter, and when she became a lesbian, I found it more amusing than anything else. I’ve heard and laughed at every joke that anyone threw at me, and in the end I am still friends with her {which anyone who has read these things knows quite well} and plan to see her today for “Little Evil’s” birthday party.

Many months passed and I ended up getting into another relationship with a woman who not only lived 3000 miles away, but was a stark raving newcomer. After her, a relationship with probably the only woman who rivals the 2^nd ex in sickness, and the epiphany that I was a love addict and hopelessly addicted to the fairy tale, was born. I learned a lot about me during the months that I stayed totally single, and was sadly very waning in my enthusiasm for ever getting into a relationship again. I made a ton of self discoveries, which included learning to affix blame where it belonged. Sometimes me, and sometimes others. I learned to take things at whatever God Damn speed they come. Sometimes quickly sometimes slowly, but always in God’s time not mine. Most importantly, I learned that sometimes “fondness” for another human being might find you whether you are willing to admit it or not, as I ended up in a relationship of a romantic nature, with a really good friend. Despite what anyone says, I was very lucky that she put up with all of my psych-ranting about how I should be the last thing any woman would want to be with, because I am sick, and evil, and dumb, etc etc etc. And I am very happy that she doesn’t get jealous of my other girlfriend …. This Blog :8o)

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Ok so I decided that today, should be one of those days where I actually made things happen for a change. A little bit of Research and Development of my own attitude, and maybe the attitudes of those around me was in order so that maybe I could actually report here on something that I actually did, instead of simply emoting about what I do in retaliation to the things going on around me. As I eluded to in my morning edition of “Mental Notes” {the phone text mass mailing that I send out to everyone on my cell phone every morning} I was going to spend the day saying hello, and giving a big smile to everyone I passed today. I didn’t tell you all that I was going to keep tabs on the whole procedure of the day, that was an idea that came to me right after I sent the text blast out. The plan was also added to as I added a great suggestion that came from TWO different people in response, which was to go as far as to wave and smile to anyone who made eye contact with me while driving home. I actually went as far as to keep a note pas with me all day so that I could keep track of stats. I have separated the stats based on the action purely because the smiling and saying hello, and the waving and smiling had very different results.

I’ll start with the smile hello results because they were mostly bland but interesting at times. The usual (36 out of 49 times) was a simple smile and a hello, or something to that effect back, so that is what I usually expect since I almost always smile at someone who makes eye contact. There were 9 out of the 49 times that an actual conversation started based on a “How are you doing today” which led to more than a simple “Fine” or “Good”, and I decided to make the research and development more advantageous that I would be honest whenever that question was asked to see what became of it. Most of the time I answered with “Well I am a little tired, because the longer days, and the heavier lifting restrictions, but other than that I am feeling better everyday,” making sure that I gave a smile after I said that. Most of the people in this group had follow up questions of varying degrees and the conversations were very friendly. I might have actually made some new friends. The other two of course looked at me like I had 3 heads and probably were afraid that I had smoked crack or something, but the percentage of those was so low that they aren’t worth going into. I would pray for them if my list weren’t so long already.

The driving, smiling, and waving list was a very difficult one at first, as I was genuinely terrified to put myself out on such a goofy limb, but I was determined to do this. The first person I actually did it to was an old lady, who was probably happy to see someone she might have known. She absolutely beamed as I waved and smiled, as she frantically smiled, and waved back at me. The actual good feeling I had carried me on to the next one, which was a much younger guy, whom I thought for sure, would call me a name or something, but ya know what? He smiled back, raised his hand and actually yelled, “How ya doin’ man!” and also looked quite happy that I had waved. Along I went, and of the many dozens of people I made eye contact with and waved and smiled, almost all of them waved, and more over, just beamed from ear to ear. I was shocked, but as I rode along on my way home doing this I just couldn’t wait to pass the next person and do it again. I was getting excited about it, to be more to the point, but the biggest thing I noticed was that I was getting very happy seeing other people getting REALLY HAPPY!

Now don’t get me wrong, I like everyone else in this world (yes everyone else ... the people who say they don't lie!) like to make people happy, and especially if it is effortless. When “My Real Mother from Vegas” IMed me yesterday needing help with her Yahoo, and I was actually able to help her I was probably the happiest little sicko this end of the Mississippi, because I totally owed her for many times that she had saved me from me on this damn computer. Last night when the “Silly Princess Out West” came home from work after having a horrible day just to find out that “My Wildest Dreams … Southern Edition” had totally wiped out 360, and was even more upset in an IM with me because she couldn’t read my blog entry, I was TOTALLY ELATED that after e-mailing my Blog to her, she said it totally made her day. I think I actually believed her too, which was also a plus. And of course through all of the whining I have been doing over the last week about being “forced” into service of others … well don’t believe it for a minute, I love being needed every bit as much as the next person, even during those times that it is less than effortless. :8o)

{If you HAD wished to be included in my morning “Mental Notes” then you would have sent to e-mail your first name and cell phone number (or e-mail address if you don’t have a cell phone) to jeremycrow4life@yahoo.com course that E-Mail no longer exists ... thanks Yahoo you fucking assholes!}

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So I get one of those dreaded phone calls today. The caller ID on my cell phone says that I am getting a call from … well as she is listed in my address book …. “Oh God” which means that the ex wife is up to something as I am thinking to myself. The phone of course asks “Answer the phone call?” with two choices “Yes or No” which isn’t very fair. A “Maybe” or a “What the Hell” would probably be much better choices at this moment, but I have to decide, it’s on the third ring after all. Out of courtesy, and my daughters upcoming birthday, I decide to answer the phone. I press the little “Yes” button, and respond with my usual waning “What do you want?”

The voice on the other end of the phone was not the usual one that I get when I answer a phone that says “Oh God” and it surprised me to hear “Geeze, you do answer the phone like an a-hole,” followed by “Is there someone named Jeremy attached to that whiny voice?” and I knew that I had been called by the “Silent Bob” of my little lesbian convention. “Well I was expecting a woman looking for something I probably didn’t have,” I said to that last comment, which of course was followed by “Well that is why she has me now anyway” followed by that laugh that I am quite used to when talking to anyone who outmatches me in sarcasm, and let’s face it, this is the master.

“Ok, I am calling to ask about your daughters birthday. I don’t know what to get her for a gift, and you know who isn’t being much help. I haven’t even got a niece or anything, and if you haven’t I wasn’t exactly the type to play with girl toys growing up.” which again was followed by laughter, but this was her “uncomfortable” laugh as she had shown me during those times when I have caught her checking out more masculine scenery downtown.

“Well I dunno, why don’t you just pretend that it’s one of your friends, and go to the toy department at Wal-Mart or something, it isn’t that hard shopping for a 5 year old since she will probably more excited about the box it came in anyway,” which was pretty quick to realize that I had probably made a stupid remark of some sort, because she had that uncomfortable laugh again, as she chortled out, “I think you would be offended if I gave your 5 year old a 12 Inch Fluorescent Green Vibrator, that is really loud when it is turned on, since that’s what I give my friends for toys” my face was bright red and of course I was standing out in the smoking area at the time (I knew it was red because everyone told me), and she even added to it by saying, “She told me that saying something like that would leave you speechless,”

“Well I will have you know that I know a lot about BOBs from hanging out in chat rooms thank you very much,” was the first thing I said back while trying to hide my face, and that was a big mistake, as she had never heard that term before, and wanted details. Of which I tried to do as softly as possible, only to have her going, “What I can’t hear you … huh?” the whole time.

This woman happens to be the most incredibly outspoken “Log Cabin Coalition” member I have ever met. She is ardently “Pro Life” and she actually very outspoken against “Gay Adoption”, which shocks a lot of people that I actually disagree with her on the adoption one anyway. We have argued that point many times, and she might even be right, but like any right wing wacko hardhead, she’ll never break me as to whether I am starting to agree with her or not. The other most interesting argument that she has had on the “Gay Adoption” issue really comes into play here you see, as she is plainly pointing out to me something she has said a million times at least. She has absolutely NO maternal instincts, and if she did (as she would tell you) then the actual act that leads to making a baby would be appealing to her. In this circumstance she is obviously very nervously trying to get to the point that she doesn’t have a clue as to how she fits into Imtoocutus’s life in general much less how to express any sort of greetings. I asked her outright “Are you nervous to be there?”

“Oh f*** yeah! You don’t even know what I am going through. I know some of your family doesn’t want me there, and worse than that your former in-laws that are going to be there definitely don’t!” which was very strange, because as closed minded as I have always been I figured her to be the “kiss my ass if you don’t like me” type.

“Well first of all, as far as her family is concerned, I know exactly what you are going through. I was the older pervert, who is going to force his kids on her, before you came along. Now they are all dying to be at my daughters birthday party, so I guess that changed,” was my first reply, while I took a moment to think up the best response for the second (those of you who have talked to me in real life, know how I contemplate what I say, as I always have my foot jammed in my mouth, I have learned) and what came out was, “As far as my family is concerned, my daughter wants you there, and I kinda like having you around, so they can get over it,” which I think is what the whole phone call was really about anyway, because she kinda took the ball from there.

“Well I guess I could just get her some more clothes then, since I already know her size, and throw some McDonalds gift certificates on them,” and she promptly pretended to lose the connection, which is what I probably would have done as well. Later on in the day, while I was on my way home to write this entry, I got a call from “Oh God” and it was “Oh God” …. Oh rats …. But she was happy to tell me that I made her current’s day, and that she would like to pay for all the pizza’s at Imtoocutus’s birthday party (thank God I barely had enough to pay for those woooohoooooooo) and the two of them are coming over tonight to get her for a glamorous make over (at a salon, not the spiky red hair thing they do thank GOD)

It’s hard to believe that I now after 35 years of being on this Earth, the last 16 of which sober, and I finally have an ex-wife (and an ex girlfriend too while I am bragging about me) that I can call friends, and can have a good relationship with. Whoever thought that it would be possible? Trust me, on this end, it feels weird as all hell. Sooner or later I will try to have a talk with the ex’s current and try to figure out how she does fit into all this. I mean none of the children are biologically linked to her or my ex, but my ex was very good to them, the best she possibly could be. So in reality she isn’t a step mom, and well the kids couldn’t cope with her being a step dad either {laughing like mad as I typed that}. In a lot of ways I will just tell her to be a friend, like my ex is, and don’t complicate anything, and I thank God that she already understands that. ;8o)

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Back almost a decade ago, Microsoft came out with their newest Windows Based OS called Windows 98, and many people to this day think that it was the best version of Windows ever. One of the things that nobody really remembers about it was an IRC reader called Comic Chat. Now this was a really adorable program that turned everything that was being said into little balloons over different cartoon characters heads that are assigned to each user in the room. It looked like a big rolling comic strip, and for a while it was a lot of fun. The reason I am sooooooo remembering this these days is because Microsoft might have been on to something when they created this little gem of a Windows Add-On, as I look throughout the wonderful world of FOBW chat on Yahoo. I had made the realization many months ago that I was nothing more than a cartoon character in a chat room that should be taken about as seriously as nuclear propulsion theories from a 3 year old. I in turn shared this piece of cake with everyone that I personally knew from the FOBW room, and hoped that some of them would learn from this pearl of wisdom the next time some one called them a C*** in the room or bragged about their incredible social life, despite the fact that they spent well over 60 hours in a chat room everyday. I unfortunately found out the hard way that I might have been a bigger dreamer than those who actively play make believe in the wonderful world of cyber space. The terminology of “The Merry Go Round Broke Down” comes from the song that plays during most Daffy Duck cartoons, and just about anything musical other than when they play Chopin. It also happens to be the joke I make when certain chat a-holes are being extra “cartooney”.

I started off my day yesterday, thinking that it would be a good day. I had a wonderful couple of dates with a fabulous woman, so why shouldn’t Sunday morning be happy, joyous and free I was thinking to myself in actual real time, as I turned on the monitor to my computer. Hell I even slept in until 9am which is really late for me. My screen had 3 open IM boxes, which is not uncommon for me, the first one was from my sweetie, saying a few nice things, the second one was from an ex sweetie, saying some rather sour things, and the third one was from the ex sweeties current sweetie, who was going to kill himself. I immediately took this seriously, since if I were trashed and angry, I probably would want to kill myself too. I managed to get a hold of the person and talked to them for a bit, but the conclusion that they reached no mater what I said was that they wanted to die. I then proceeded to call a mutual friend in the same city as this person, and started getting the ball rolling to hopefully save his life. I have yet to hear from the friend who had threatened to kill himself, but I have been told that he is probably ok.

Upon finishing with all of that the old IM box popped up again, and there was a person on the other end who was miserable over the twisted web that said suicidal friend had created. Now don’t get me wrong, I always knew he was full of sh** I just found it shocking that someone else didn’t and was really broken up about it all. I did my best throughout most of the day to calm her down, and try to make sure that as a friend I was caring to the point of being there while at the same time compassionate to tell her where the bear took a crap in the woods also. Needless to say I have not heard from her, and hope that she is doing better, because it sure didn’t look like it at the time.

In all reality, I am totally befuddled as to how we get to this point. I am as guilty as the next person of chat hypnosis, as many people remember back to the days of my whirlwind romance on the internet with the woman of my dreams, and all of the BS that accompanied all of that. I in turn did end up learning a lot about myself in the end, and it was the starting point of the transformation of Jeremy the love sick puppy to … well Jeremy the sex starved kitten I guess, but everything that has happened, as I said, has given me the opportunity to grow, as life always does. I don’t have to get to the point of being an unfeeling know it all, or an unthinking big mouth, but I can still call a spade a spade, and speak out whenever the hell I want, as well.

Today I am not afraid to be the a-hole that points out the soft nasty underbelly of internet chat anyway. Pointing out the cartoon characters (like those that spew insults and then pretend to hide because an angry customer is coming … like that isn’t transparent) and the total internet sex predators (with or without a beautiful island to lure the ladies), which if you think they are only men … you are an idiot. I am even willing to admit that I have been labeled a predator a time or two, as I always say “The evidence would point that way, and they wouldn’t be your friend if they didn’t mention it”, but of course my true friends know that it is hard for me to be as I can’t even say a word for genetalia other than shmekie. {Side note … some day I will be telling you all about how hillarious it must be trying to have phone sex in a long distance relationship with a man that can’t say dirty words “So I pull out my … well … you know, and then caress your … thingy yanno … until I … well … yeah that” the poor co-dependant victims that have crossed my path … I‘ll tell ya}

I’m also the first one these days to admit that some of the “less desirable” chat characters are far more welcome to me than the “more desirable” to others. I wasn’t there when Hewhowillnotbenamed was in the chat room being attacked by all of the people who thought he had it coming, but I found it quite amusing that they had so wonderfully blended with the same people they whine and bitch about in their still lingering jeers of him when I came in. Always important to note that when you order sh** you eat sh**. I am responsible whenever the I am needed to carry the message to whomever regardless of my principals and the personalities involved to carry the message. I thank God, and my sponsor for teaching me that. I have been burned several times helping out, but I have been treated to many more wonderful friends, many of whom had to become the butterfly’s that God always intended them to be. I look at “Me Bellah from Mizzura” who always makes me smile when I talk to her, despite her problems in the past of getting the program. She didn’t even know that she had talked me down from my own personal roof yesterday (well until now) just by coming online and chatting with me for a little while, as I was desperately taking a break from all the BS. She didn’t say anything special, she just showed me how much better she was getting, by talking.

I do take inventories, it was explained to me by an oldtimer, back when I only had about a year sober that I am responsible for crafting what I am to become. To fear looking at others, their faults, their issues, their recovery, is to be closed minded to what I want to become. I am doomed to repeat my past behavior of sticking with the losers if I don’t. I am willing to admit, that as a natural born loser, “Like attracts Like” after all. Also as a natural born loser, I am clueless as to what decent people do without a little guidance. I was at the gas station yesterday for example with my grandmothers car, during my insanity time out . Why did I have her car, you may ask? Well it’s because she is 76 years old and hates pumping her own gas. I make it a weekly tradition to go fill her tank of course. Aside from the fact that the old me, wouldn’t care to do things like that, I was also by chance, asked by an 82 year old woman who was there to open and close her gas cap for her so that she could pump her own gas, which I did with a smile because it was the right thing to do. Like I knew any of this without observing others over the years. I felt pretty damn good about myself and was so used to doing the one deed for my grandmother that I had forgotten to pat myself on the back for it! A lot of this goes on even in that stupid chat room.

I would be missing out on those small miracles in my life if I was closed off to the world, and not searching for adult (sometimes) conversation when I am trapped at home with my kids, screaming around me like little cannibals. I might not be in the FOBW rooms as often as I used to be, but it did lead me to my new passion and release point … My Blog, and my 360 Page … which has also been a wonderful joy as I have been meeting great people like the “Native Goddess from Birch Beer Land” and all of the wonderful people she’s been introducing me to as well! I was very happy to see that I had 6 offlines today from people who were genuinely concerned about my well being after yesterday. I will be praying that sooner or later Hewhowillnotbenamed gets his head out of his ass, and starts trying some honesty. If he doesn’t then I will stay sober, and he will probably die. This is where my compassion and honesty meet head to head. ;8o)

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So today I sit here with a profound problem that I am facing, which I am sure that some of you have faced before, a lot of you have not, and many of you wouldn’t have seen it coming. Thursday is my youngest daughters birthday, the Saturday after that is my sons, and a couple of weeks after that is my oldest daughters. Let us not forget that my grandmother {Greektradgedius Inyiddish} who also lives with me is in this mix somewhere too. Her birthday is between middle evil and big evil’s birthdays. Then in the old days I would have a couple of months to get as much money as I possibly could together for Christmas.

Now don’t get me wrong we live ok. Many years back I started with a trailer, sold it bought a duplex, sold that bought a good sized house, sold that and bought my grandmothers so that she could retire, and I could get a serious tax break. I then moved out to upstate New York, where I got a townhouse, and was hoping to spend the rest of my life. Saratoga Springs … Gods country, where the people are friendly, the seasons are perfectly desirable, and all of the bullsh** that I have found the typical New Hampshire day to day was … well back in New Hampshire where it belonged. For those of you who don’t truly know me, know that my whole life’s goals and ambitions are to get away from this God forsaken state. I would of course go out to Maine {the only place I hate worse than New Hampshire} to pick up my kids, and take them back to my house in NH to spend every other weekend with them like a good daddy. The ex-wife had moved them into Kenebec County Maine, where nobody works, so she could get welfare like the rest of them, and simply collect the child support. I figured 2 hour drive 5 hour drive, it was finally time to get on with my life in New York.

The phone call came in from my former mother-in-law that my son had burned down the apartment complex that they were living in, and {the mother of all evils’s} wasn’t going to tell me … but … she {the mother of all evils’s mother that is} wanted me to come get the kids from her, and preferably never let her daughter have them back. I packed up the life I had so desperately wanted and was finally living for the last year and moved back to NH that very day. I took custody of my kids leaving the greatest job I ever had, the most beautiful home I had ever had, and of course the new bride I had behind. The bride did follow of course, but at least I could dream that she stayed there {grinning} and avoided the whole future lesbian thing. A year and a half of nasty custody battles later, and I had my kids, and she had an hour a week to see them. It started as every other weekend, and she just kept getting worse and worse til the judges thought she should see them less. One would think that everything was going great, but in reality it was going pretty bad. In the reality of everything I never wanted any of this. I was just doing what was right for the kids, and I still know that it is the right thing.

Back in Nooooooooo Hampshah, and I had a new job dumping asphalt on fiberglass yippee! Far shade from building Naval components like I had in NY, but I did what I could to support the kids. To this day we are actually the poorest family in the richest town in NH. When the fire department here has their toy drive, they basically place all of the clothing and donation bins at the end of our driveway. The best part of all of that was that we rarely had to worry about such things as paying for school lunches etc, since nobody really bothered to ask us if we needed it, it was always just a given. Supporting 5 people on 600$ a week was pretty darn hard when the ex-wife left, but I endured. Well I endured until I got hurt at work anyway. I watched 600$ a week turn into 400$ a week. I could hold on for quite a while because I didn’t have a mortgage. The Minivan was paid off, and I had a whopping 100$ month car payment on my Focus, and the bills were at least somewhat manageable. Weeks turned into months, and I am staring down the loaded revolver known to me as the gauntlet of birthdays. Credit cards maxxed, bank account empty.

My oldest daughter {Lazius Boycrazius} has a lot of friends, she has often commented on how her friends have everything, and for the love of Christ they do. All filthy rich, most of them spoiled rotten, many of them have butlers and chauffeurs for the love of Pete. My son {Captain ADHD}, doesn’t notice for all of his friend’s parents adore him and pick him up for play dates in their mansions, and he is only gonna be 7 here pretty soon. The youngest {Imtoocutus} just thinks that she has everything any soon to be 5 year old is ever going to need. It’s my issue that I just want to die, because I can’t even get her a decent birthday present after all right? The confusion that I have been riddled with and walking around, hoping it would just disappear, hasn’t worked as it never has anyway.

So this morning, I am trying to write this Blog entry, I have a suicide note in my IM from someone who has some real honesty issues anyway. I am talking to my ex who is in love with the guy about perhaps staying single long enough to learn how to be happy. My actual girlfriend {and yes I am finally using those words} is asleep and has far more to deal with than I hope to anytime soon. More confusion going on as people are trying to find out what is up with “The Mad Suicide Noter” and I am actually sitting here crying, as I type this stupid Blog that has become my very existence. Yes I do cry at times, because I could care what others think actually. Who am I left to talk to, God? God helps me with what I need already, this is obviously something that God wants me to work through, and has alleviated some of the pain.

It was initially a good thing that “Big Evil” aka Lazius Boycrazius, has become somewhat human lately. She thanked me the other day for being as good of a father as I was capable of. It sorta sounded like this “Thanks for not leaving me with Mom”, which was I think a slight hint that she has become self aware that, since she is not my biological daughter, that she didn’t have to be living here I guess, but it never crossed MY mind. Some idiot probably told her something along those lines, and as bad as the intentions probably were it did force us to talk about it. We both cried (cuz that’s what we do) through a talk about how, she was what her parents made her, an