chicadea's Journal

we are poor. dude, you filed bancruptcy less than two years ago. your child support payments are almost as much as our rent. we don't have anything "left over" but boxes arrive in the mail almost every day - that precious f*cking black hole motorcycle needs a new gasket or rod or clamp or some other expensive as f*ck piece because it's a "classic" aka OLD and parts are scarce. ok, i say. i'll skimp on groceries. i won't drive so much to save on gas. i've been driving a car i bought for $1000 for the last 4 years. no worries. we (i) can make it.

yesterday your car battery died. that wasn't so bad, only $75 to get a new one but your -convinced- that's that's only the beginning and more is going to start going wrong. then today you call after getting into an accident. it's icy. the guy in front of you stopped short. you got out to assess the damage and exchange information and he took off. shitty, i know. i get it. bummer dude! really! so i ask what kind of damage are we talking about it, is it drivable? "oh sure, i'm in the work parking lot right now. there's a dent about the size of fist above the tail light" (which is unbroken and in working order by the way). so he asks if i think we should pay our $500 deductible to get it fixed. is that a joke? should we file a claim and take the $700 to get it fixed but choose not to fix it (hello??? rates go up with claims and i'll bet what we'd end up paying more in the first year would more than cover their measly $700).

i dyed my hair yesterday, platinum blond. it all started months ago when Daddy (that's what i call my husband) pointed to a little girl and said, "that's my favorite hair color". "oh", i replied, "yeah, it's pretty". he said it was his favorite because it's the color i had when i was her age. aahhh, i get it now. ok. so a few weeks later i bought some dye and tried to make my hair that color. it didn't work. a few days later i tried again, closer but still no cigar. yesterday i just went whole hog and he didn't even say anything till we'd been home for almost 20 minutes. know what he said? wanna? "oh wow... it's white on top" (he insists that he followed that up with "but i like it" but i didn't hear that).  i told him why my feelings were hurt and it turned into this big, messy shit storm. i asked if he would be offended if i went downstairs, found something funny to watch and had one glass of wine... shitstorm turned into a shit tornado tearing down everything in it's path. okee dokee!  i went into the bathroom, turned on the sink and started beating the shit out of myself. he went downstairs and watched some british car show.