Fuck You All Assholes!

Fuck you, son of a bitch asshole!  I hate you, I hate you, I hate

you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I hope you die!  I would be happy if you die and rot in hell!

You called me on your cell phone and just kept still, waiting for me to ask about that freaking10-hr.++ wedding?  So what the hell would I know about what to ask you, huh, Fucky???

Every time this happens I get on my nerves and just want to whack you with a chainsaw on your noggin!

I wanna kill all of you!!!

The movie in my mind will be about me murdering all of you -- you and your siblings

STARRING: (Okay, as time moves on, I might change some of the names here.)

Fucktard/Shithead -- the husband of this blog's owner

Gaylord -- the brother who is a closet queen

Butch -- the sister who is a lesbo

Chong -- the brother who acts like he is pure Chinese,  when he is not even fluent with the language

Dimmy  -- the sister who is dim-witted

Baldo -- the brother who is balding

Richie -- the sister who has a billionaire husband

Tubby -- the sister whose body is as big as the Titanic


Oh and before I forget, I want to thank Mariel Clayton for the photo I used.  This is the second time I borrowed her marvelous, artistic work of art.

The Wedding and Other Side Stories

Around 2pm today, one of the most lavish and ultra-extravagant wedding events in the history of this island beach's shores will be happening.

Four days of bookings in various 5-star deluxe hotels surrounding the island's powdery white sandy beach -- to accommodate local and foreign guests from all over the world.

And then several venues for the following: One, to accommodate the pre-wedding party. Another venue for the cocktail party. Another one again for the actual wedding dinner reception.  And finally, the last one, another posh venue for an after-wedding drinking (and cavorting) party until sunrise for friends of the couple.  Wow.

My, oh, my...  And it happens to be that of Fucky's slutty-looking niece, and her Latino, moronic fiance.  I am here in the house, with my darling daughter and bratty pooch, brewing with anger, because Fucky, and everyone in his family of shitheads left us.  Yes, because we are sick with the (insert *fake* here) flu.

I got upset when I had to pull myself to rise up from bed this morning, because the househelp in my MIL's house -- which happens to be just right beside ours -- were having a laughing-like-a-hyena spree, complete with screaming, tickling, and all.  Just like stupid birds who escaped from their cage, so to speak.

Of course, a few days ago, I had to inform them, that there will only be myself and my daughter in this house, super sick and trying desperately to recuperate.  So utter silence and proper decorum should be observed, as their voices are clearly heard from our bedrooms upstairs.

I did not expect these ratty maids to have their own "party" while the cats are away, that even the drivers are having so much fun chatting and screaming with glee at the top of their lungs with these girl helpers.

I had to text Fucky, and told him to inform his mother (my MIL), to remind these househelp to be at least, a little considerate of us, patients, who are currently in house arrest.  Fucky even had to call them to remind them to be quiet and less rowdy.  Tsk, tsk, tsk.  These housemaids are so hard-headed, they could not take a mild and gentle reminder to keep still.

So I had to get up from bed this morning, even if I still have a heavy cloud in my head from the meds I drank the night before -- I went down, and slammed shut the connecting door from my kitchen to my MIL's house to let them know I was greatly upset, and disturbed from where I was in my sickbed upstairs.

I tell you, why does all things -- animate (or otherwise) -- and just about everything connected with Fucky's family, so annoying and so tempting to annihilate???

Still wishing the wedding happening at this very moment turns out to be the worst wedding of all time...  Summoning all the evil spirits of diarrhea and vomiting.................. (Excluding my son in that verbal spell I just said).

Sour 16th Wedding Anniversary

I cannot deny the fact that Fucktard came from a family who is several millions richer than mine.  So rich, that they can splurge and spend money on family affairs as if money was going out of style.

Well this year (and I mean, since way back January), a lot of waking hours were spent by his family to plan for the wedding of their most precious first granddaughter/niece.  One entire year's worth of planning for the most lavish destination wedding of the year in this island somewhere in my part of the globe.

Of course, Fucktard had to prepare well for it too.  You know... buying outfits for four days of partying in style.  So much so that I did not have a Christmas Eve dinner with him -- just like what most families in my culture would do during the Christmas season.

I am sooo mad and angry, I feel like butchering all of them for ruining my holiday season --- all in the name of being involved in this billion-dollar wedding of the century.

This is the second day that my darling daughter and I are in this house -- just the two of us, and our precious pooch.  The rest of Fucktard's family are all together in this party island of theirs.  They all flew out of town at the first crack of dawn yesterday.

There is a tropical typhoon somewhere in the province, but nothing can stop them from attending this wedding.  I hope all of them die of diarrhea after eating the food.

According to the billion-dollar-looking, thick invite, there will be a "Despedida de Soltera" in this deluxe hotel near the powdery, white, sandy beach.  Now, the Spanish term I mentioned -- (for the benefit of my co-husband haters out there) -- means "Farewell to Bachelorettehood" Party.  I did not consult Google for that, so I guess that makes it a poor translation, but I believe it is the most accurate one, in my limited stock knowledge of Spanish vocabulary.

And then, of course, the cocktails and main dinner reception will take place in another deluxe hotel, beach front too, of course.

And then an after-party for the friends of the couple will happen in another nearby, beach front deluxe venue again.  Wow, that accounts for three or four different party venues to go to and prepare lavish outfits for also.

Naturally, Fucktard, and my fun-loving son prepared for it well.  And should I mention here again, that I did not at all have my Christmas Eve dinner (called Noche Buena in my native tongue) at home, because they were all too consumed by this shitty event!  (Or should I say -- prolly, the Christmas dinner money went to the signature tailored suits and luau outfits he bought?  Gah!)

Okay, I had to have my son go with Fucktard to represent us because my daughter and are sick with a (insert *fake* here) tough, never-wanting-to-let-up flu, so we had to stay behind...  On hindsight, my dear daughter is all too happy about the idea of staying at home, because she shares the same feelings I have for Fucktard's family.  She has her own child-reasons for it --- because Fucky's Chinese family plays favorites among the nieces and nephews, and my Darling one feels she is not one of those favored.  I validate her feelings and tell her to be resilient, and to make herself rise above the rest.  Someday, she will be able to understand more and have the strength to fight and bounce back...

Anyway, back to my main story, today actually marks our 16th wedding anniversary.  Hell, yeah.  Fucky texted me this early morning, greeting me with the usual anniversary cliche -- but I could not have the heart to text him, "There isn't anything happy about today."  Seems to me his Christmas gift of the Twilight Saga complete DVD special edition set crossed my mind this early morning, that's why I forgot to be bitchy about today's no-celebration event.  The gift is way more important to me than he is, that's why.

This evening's "Despedida de Soltera" (reminder to read my words above for the meaning of this term) will happen this evening.  I hope they all suffer a massive, bloody diarrhea for eating and drinking tonight.  (Excluding my son, of course).

Am just being bitchy again as I write this, and want to comment, that I don't agree that a party to honor the bride, and say a sweet goodbye to her single blessedness should be given, because for one, she is not at all blessed (I feel all the saints in heaven would wage war against us mortals, if we label this girl this way), and second, she is as slutty as a drunken stripper.  In my culture, such parties to honor the would be bride are given only to those who have lived a prudent, worthy of emulation kind of lifestyle.  Something that this niece is NOT.

Come on, she is one of those who party like there is no more tomorrow, and her Facebook photos can be sold to Playboy or Penthouse for all I care!  So I would say again, that the Despedida de Soltera would not fit her.  I think a slutty, striptease shower with slickly oiled gyrating macho boys coming out of a big, wooden box is more appropriate.  This would-be bride has a vagina as huge as Alaska, for heaven's sake! It simply is a big, gaping, supermassive, bearded oyster.  I needn't say more.

And I think it is also just right to mention my equally shitty sister in law here.  This one is a "butch".  Okay, for some whose vocabulary is virginal --- a "butch" is the term given to those who is also a "bitch."  Get it???  But, there is a glitch there, because there is gender-bender involved.  My sister in law is a "butch." 'Nuf said... (Please go and Google it if you still don't get it.)

Imagine -- this sister in law from Hades tagged me in FB, showing me all their photos while having their own happy time in the island sans us!  What a tactless way, really, to share news to someone who is "sick", and left behind.

LMFAO!  I truly thank technology for giving me this blog so I would be able to say the words that sort of, well, -- "heal me" of all aches and pains.

I hate this family so much,  I would really like to detach myself from their golden family tree.  Who cares if I am the rotten one!

More next time...............

Whoring Wives in FB

Holy freakin' yucchy!  This is the kind of whoring I really, truly, absolutely,
surely hate ---

Yes, I captured this from a contact's status and I can't stand this kind of crap.

17 whorers so far, and most likely counting on more 'til the rest of the day.  I could not, at any rate and strength, click the like button.

Hmmmm, I read those lines somewhere, yes?!?
From a cheesy Hallmark greeting card, where else!  Tsk, tsk, tsk, definitely NOT swagg.

I hate this #%&(@$^*) life!!!

How Many of You are Like Me?

How many of you, are like me, who has a husband who simply does not care?  I envy two of my friends who are in some ways, burdened like me, though not exactly the same...

One friend is married, with no kids.  Good for her because she can drop her husband anytime.  No little hearts will ever get hurt or bruised.

Another has kids, with no husband.  I think this one would suit me the most.  Children are the best companions anyone could ever have, I think.  The love they give is incomparable, and so unconditional.  Having a husband in the household is definitely hard to keep.  So this friend of mine is most fortunate, I believe.  No one gives her a daily dose of headache.

Looking back, when I thought I found the best one for me, I should have thought twice, no, thrice -- before committing myself to this man.  Or perhaps I should have just allowed myself to have children, without the benefit of marriage.

How many are we?  Hundreds?  Thousands? Or perhaps even millions out there, who like me, are trapped in this bondage we call marriage.

If I could muster enough courage to destroy my children and their ideals, then I would have probably ended this union way back as I could remember.  But I am deeply afraid of the consequences it will surely ball up into, that I would rather wait for myself to dry up like a withered flower.

This blog is my platform.  Where voicing out what I feel keeps me sane from all the heartaches my husband is giving.

My husband...  He does not even care if I steep in anger at home, for his incapacity to show love for me, his wife...

As simple as it may sound -- he does not open doors for me.  The three, most basic words lovers say to each other is not present.  When I am sick, he just lets me be sick.  Communications lines are broken, we do not engage even in the simplest of conversation.  All he cares about is going to work, his friends, going back home, his friends, eating his meals, his friends, the tv, his friends, sports, his friends, sleep, his friends, and his friends.  Not necessarily in that order, though.

There is so much solace in finding the words in my head, and writing them all down here.  Sometimes, dreaming of how I lived my life in the past makes me smile.  When many summers of my youth dawned and there were many of them who I should have carefully and thoughtfully chose from.

But for some reason, I allowed this guy to be in my life.

And I thought my marriage will be more beautiful than my wedding...

Sick

I am sick, and I know this will progress into something much worse in the next days to come.  Fucktard doesn't seem to care, as usual.  My entire body is in a malaise and all my bones are aching.  Hello, flu virus...

I had to ask my shitty husband for some medication because I could not pull myself to stand up and search for some meds.  He gave me -- on an empty stomach.  What a great bastard he is.  I was, for the life of me, asking if he could at least give me some food to eat before I drank the tablets, but no, he said it will be okay.

This is how taking care of me is to him.  I hate the fact that I ended up in this kind of relationship.  I would not perhaps even call it a relationship for obvious reasons, but I hate the days that I have to sit here and be with this shit.

If you are a husband, please do not treat your wives this way...

Looking back, I could just have gotten myself involved with my Malaysian/Australian pen friend, CHY, who in the past, sent feelers that he was interested in forming a relationship deeper than friendship with me.  But by that time, I was already engaged with Fucktard.

I regret the fact that I did not "shop" well for a husband.  I could not believe that I knew and had so many good boy friends in college, and there were many other better guys available for me.  Why on Earth did I get myself tangled up with this shitty guy of a husband!?!

If I could just only bring back time, I would just have kids and dropped the idea of being a wife to somebody.  Life would be less complicated when one only had kids.

When I am with my Christian friends, I could not be myself for fear of being scolded, especially by this girl friend who assumed the role of being an older sister to me.  She is in a happy marriage, and I hate reading her timeline statuses.  I feel dizzy when she whores her husband and find it equally disgusting to read their cyberspace replies to one another.  Big yuch!

Now I feel sleepy...  Guess the meds have started kicking in.  Groggy time, folks.  WIll be back in a while...................................

Ifs

I went out with my two best girl friends today. Never mind that for once I dropped and forgot what my responsibilities were to the rest of the world -- because I went out at 9:30 this morning to fetch M, drove all the way to the Fort to meet B, and voila!  I went home at 5pm+.  What a fabulous day this was, really.  Because I had almost an entire day spent with my highschool buds -- just talking, laughing, and regretting things over in our lives.

My friend, M told me that she read this blog, and though I was quite surprised that she remembered the title/address, I don't really mind that she "discovered" it.

Well to add, D -- the hero of "A Most Refreshing Dream" surfaced again in the conversation this afternoon, and I was asked the random question of whether I would go play with fire if faced with the chance of encountering this guy again.  The answer is NO.  Perhaps if we both did NOT have kids, that would come easy...  But to destroy and break our children's hearts is something I would not be able to do...  I have faith in myself that I still have my conscience in place.

Perhaps only in my wildest dreams will I be able to do so...

BUT.

Maybe if he writes me again, I would prolly not be able to resist writing back.  Did I fail to mention that this guy writes fairly well...?

So there goes your question, M.  You're my BFF, so I know my secret's safe with you.

I feel lighter today than in most days...  After having breakfast with my besties, which lagged on to the rest of the entire day for coffee and cake, and while waiting for the afternoon rain to stop pouring.

Again, I am faced with crystal clear images of lost loves, thinking and imagining that maybe one or two of them could have been a great candidate for husbandhood.

What if one of the guys I mentioned here would read the stuff I have written? What if they knew all along it was them?  What if... 

Would I stop writing about them? Or would I start acting as though I am an entirely different person all throughout?

Guess I don't really care anymore.  As long as I could write and reminisce...  Or reminisce and write...  Then these are my only consolation.  I would not let anyone take it away from me.