Dude, Where's My Car?

Those of you who know about Dick, knows he likes to fuck with me (that sounded bad on so many levels). Anyway, last night was no different. I'm sitting on the couch, minding my own business and attempting to watch a movie when my phone starts beeping -- texts from Dick. I ignored the texts for over an hour and then the phone rang.

At first, all I could hear was loud music. After saying hello twice, I was about to hang up. Dick then makes some comment about being at a strip club and hung up in my face.

Oh no he didn't!

Refusing to just "let it go" like my family and friends have been pleading for me to do, I threw on my shoes and grabbed my keys. I knew which club he was at (the same one he always goes to), so I was there in less than twenty minutes. Spotting his truck, I parked near it. Making sure he or any of his friends weren't around, I quickly got into his truck and drove several blocks down the street. I parked his truck and walked back to my car in which I jumped in and quickly drove home.

I slept well last night knowing that when he came out of the club and discovered his truck was gone that he'd be pissed. I slept well knowing that he probably had to call a cab to get back to wherever he was staying. I slept well knowing that I forgot to lock his truck and by the time he found it, everything would be missing.

The moral of the story: Never fuck with a bitch who still has keys to your car.

What The Future Holds

Yesterday would have been my eight year anniversary to my husband (had the punk ass not left). I figured there was no sense in letting the occasion go by uncelebrated so I took some of the money I had made selling Dick's shit and purchased a nice dress, I dolled myself up, and took myself out.

I ended up at my favorite steakhouse where I enjoyed steak and coconut shrimp, had one too many pina coladas, flirted tirelessly with the waiter, met a man named Philipe, plotted out my husband's death, paid Philipe his deposit for carrying out my death request, enjoyed a Mississippi mud pie, gave the waiter my number, and called a cab to take me back home.

Okay, so I was kidding about the whole Dick death plot (or was I)?

I spent the rest of the night thinking of the eight years I wasted on Dick's ass -- the things I could have done, should have done, and could have done without. Trying to find a silver lining in all that bullshit began to give me a headache (although it could have come from the pina coladas). I decided it was time to start fresh.

I will be enrolling myself into E.C.P.I. (evil & corrupt people institute) to sharpen my skills. Once I've completed the necessary courses, I shall have the proper ability to make Dick's life a living hell after which, the kids and I will be relocating to an undisclosed location.

Oh, the future looks so bright.

Decorated Dick

Dick picked the kids up for the weekend last night. All was fine until I put their bags in his truck. I noticed all his clothes and even his suitcase were in there as well. He had told me that he was staying at his parent's house on the river (which he claims to have done when he left before). I asked why were all his things still in the truck and he just laughed. I asked where he was taking the kids and he told me not to worry about it.

Oh no he didn't.

Needless to say, I wasn't going to let him leave without knowing where my kids were going. Dick ended up calling the cops and saying I was imprisoning him (he's such a pussy). The cops show up, get both sides of the story, tell me they believe his story of taking them to the river, and tell me how to conduct a welfare check on my kids if something didn't seem right. I kissed my children and off they went.

After Dick's truck was out of sight, the cop asked if I wanted to talk. Not knowing what to say, I just shrugged my shoulders. He motioned me to my porch steps where I took a seat. He asked how long I had been married, how long we've been having problems, among other bullshit. Still not realizing what was going on, I answered his questions. He goes on to state that good men are hard to find these days. He puts his hand on my thigh and tells me it's even harder for a woman with kids to find a decent man and as he inches his hand up, he states that there are some out there.

At this point, the cop is smiling like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. I push his hand away and asked him what the hell was his problem? I told him it took me forever to get rid of one dick, what makes him think I want another? I then politely asked him to get the hell off my property before I have to shove his badge so far up his ass that he wouldn't be able to sit for a week. I then went inside, locked the door, grabbed a beer, and began my chick-flick-athon.

Moral of the story: A man with a badge is just a dick with decorations.