I think that’s my new name for Ahole… Except you have to say the T really hard… hence the hyphenation and capitalization…
Bass-Tard… if a little bit of spittle escapes from your lips, than you did it right…
So, Bass-Tard and White Trash Momma (that’s my new nickname for his minion girlfriend) show up to get the girls after 8:00pm. Now let me just note that the court ordered timeframe is 6:00pm Friday to 6:00pm Sunday.
“I’m willing to forgive the two hour lag in there but that does NOT mean that when you arrive, we can stand around and chat like we are old chums. I don’t like you and I don’t like your “stupid as a doorknob” girlfriend.”
Then White Trash Momma decides to strike up a conversation with me… I am obviously tired and ready for them to leave… the two of them, not so much the girls… What does she decide to talk about? The feckin’ HAMSTERS!! No lie!! Could the woman have chosen a touchier subject with me? I stopped her very quickly and said, “I absolutely detest those hamsters. I worked very hard at not having pets in this house that Abby is allergic to aside from the fish. You all never asked me if I wanted hamsters in this house. Quite frankly, the fact that you didn’t ask was incredibly disrespectful on your part and Aholes.” (I think I even called him that to her face)
Needless to say, she didn’t even look at me the rest of the time they were here… which wasn’t very long because I also didn’t have any problems telling Ahole, “Excuse me. It’s after 8:00pm on Friday and it is now officially YOUR turn to take care of the girls… I’ve already said good-bye to them and now you need to leave!”
And now I don’t have to contend with this until Monday…
on May 22nd, 2009 at 8:39 pm
I got some spittle so I guess I’m saying it right.
And I just love that photo … though not the feeling behind it.
on May 23rd, 2009 at 1:47 am
yeah, reading your ahole stories totally puts a damper on my divorce fantasies…
on May 23rd, 2009 at 1:58 am
You are TOTALLY saying it right!!
And you don’t get it because you only have one child!
Just imagine two little girls, ages seven and ten… sitting in the backseat of a hot Blazer on a Monday afternoon after work… stuck in traffic… gas fumes in the air… and then you hear screeching from the backseat “She’s touching me!!!!!!!”