I'm sooooo going to Hell

While I may, indeed, earn myself a one way ticket straight to the hottest level of Hell, I'm forging ahead with this train of thought, because, as all good people know, when Revenge Arrives, it's best served cold. Ice cold.

A little backstory (ahhhh, foreshadowing...) : it's H's first tee-ball game today, and while I've navigated the shark infested waters of which parent was buying what, and how the glove already purchased was Not Good Enough For My Son, as well as adding cleats, and a whole host of other, uneccessary items, I arrive amid shouts of glee at the upcoming parade to lead us all over to the park. A glorious day to be a little boy! The flags held high, the wind, with a bit of a bite, whipping an already over-sugared crowd into a high froth, all 300 little leaguers paraded with at least one parent down the street, up the hill, into the ball fields.

B makes several completely inappropriate comments, revolving around H not needing to play T-ball, I should have gotten him to bend the rules....who's kid is the mongoloid? (I was surprised that a, he knew that word, b, could use it correctly in a sentence, and c, would have the balls to say that) That child?,......He would belong to our coach. He's a joy, by the way. Both coach and child. Ex-husband? Not so much.

Day goes from bad to worse...and then, to better....see, I find out from B's mother, that he's going in for back surgery. Hmmm. Suspicious, but would explain that rather sudden beer gut he's sporting, as well as the shuffling gate of the seriously injured...I had thought that would be for pity - I'm partially right. I suppose it's possible he's actually IN pain, and not just a pain in my ass. Either way, he goes in on Wednesday. (mark your calendars.....this would be the day to pull out those overweight voodoo dolls and gear up, light some black candles, and wonder if he'd really come back as something he should have been in this life: like a toad).

His mother, actually has the balls to tell me that Claire, his unlovely intended, cannot take him (did I mention, she has long hair, or, rather, a mane, as I call it, to go with her long horsey face, big teeth, and bosc pair body? no? well. she does. little on top, GINORMOUS on the bottom) and so she wondered, my Ex Monster In Law, if I could see my way to driving to the cape, and taking him.

IS SHE ON CRACK??????

Part of me wanted to say yes, only if he makes me his health care proxy, and I have the chance to pull the plug while he's under.

I'm supposed to fell sorry for him. Let me see if I can find my Tragically Upset Face..................................nope. I'm fresh out.

Good news is, even if he doesn't die (and damn, wouldn't that be great???? yes...this would be the Going To Hell Part) there is a serious chance he'll never recover enough function to...er.....get it up.

As he's not paying me, or his first ex, I KNOW he's not bringing in anything to assist in the Equine's home....so the only thing worth it to her to keep him around is that - and let me just say, he's not THAT good in bed.

I'm dying laughing!!!!!

And, hoping. I know. I know! So bad of me. But honestly, anyone who really knew what went on wouldn't hold it against me.

So....if you love me, gear up on Wednesday. Start wearing Mourning Black. Light some Knock Him Off candles.

If nothing else? Pray it'll be a hold up instead of a stick up, from now on.

There has to be some justice in this world. And he, in my opinion, sealed his fate by picking on the kid with down's this afternoon.