I Think I Need to Adjust My Meds

I feel like I've been on an angry rampage for the past several days.  I nearly snapped in two every night this week, and now I'm starting to wonder if the problem isn't everyone else, but is me.  I know, I know, it can't possibly be me...but maybe it is?

For example:  Monday night
I'm driving on my way home from work and Husband asks me if I can take Daughter to the video game store (a promise made to her by HIM) because she got a good report card.  He had been promising to take her for days, and on Monday, told her FOR SURE they would go on Tuesday.  He was too tired (or whatever) to take her on Tuesday, and was trying to get me to do it.

After pleading with Daughter to see if we could go Wednesday (she wouldn't budge), FINE.  I WILL TAKE HER.  Even though she was acting like the most OBNOXIOUS PERSON ON THE PLANET.  Like typical kid-shit.  Being sassy and smirking and shit like that.  You should know, when I'm not in the mood, being sassy and smirking and shit like that gets on my last fucking nerve and I swear I could snap and go on a murderous rampage, killing everyone in a one-mile radius.  So I was already on edge when we were getting ready to go.  Honestly, I wanted to fucking beat the living shit out of Daughter.  But we go buy the game and I bought some scrapbooking stickers (i.e., retail therapy) and I calmed the fuck down.  But still.  I was thisclose to snapping and killing my family.

Another Example:  Tuesday night
Daughter is playing her new video game and it's getting close to bedtime.  I tell her that she can play 5 more minutes and then she has to turn it off.  After giving her an extra 15 minutes, she starts arguing with me about turning it off until I yell at her to "TURN IT OFF!"  After she turns it off, she stomps upstairs and tattles to Husband.  Instead of backing me up, he asks me why I didn't just let her play another 5 minutes?  BECAUSE, MOTHERFUCKER, SHE ALREADY WENT 15 MINUTES OVER WHEN SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO GO TO BED?  Apparently, though, I'm the asshole because it's summer and Daughter "doesn't have to get up early to get to school".  No, she doesn't have to get up early to go to school, but she still has to get up early to go to her grandparents house.  And technically, she gets up in the morning at the same time as she did when she had school.  But no, I'm the asshole.  Me.

Another example:  Yesterday
I have been working late every night this week.  Yesterday,  I came into work and was thrilled to see my schedule clear (i.e., no client appointments, no court hearings) which meant I could tackle the ever-growing mound of work that has been piling up and piling up on my desk.  I get settled and am going through my work to prioritize it, and my boss flies into my office saying she needs my help on one of her cases.  You should know that she has been working on this FOR FREE.  The Defendant is her ex-husband.  I am working on shit for PAYING CLIENTS.  I tell her I'm buried alive.  She says she DESPERATELY needs my "help" and that it will only take "45 minutes".  An hour and a half later, I'm done "helping" -- and that help consisted of me proofreading her motion and brief.  THAT'S IT.  SERIOUSLY???  WHAT THE FUCK?  I had the biggest fucking attitude yesterday.  I'm pretty sure she just wanted moral support or whatever as she was working on this motion and brief, partly because it's dealing with a lesser-familar area of the law that what we practice everyday, but GROW-THE-FUCK UP.  Grrrr.

Another example:  Today
It's 2:25pm.  We have a client coming in at 5:00 to sign some documents.  My boss is supposed to finish drafting these documents before the client gets here (obviously).  She had an appointment with new clients at 11:00...which she ended up starting around 11:30.  THE PEOPLE JUST LEFT.  THREE HOURS???  Some other things you should know -- my boss loves the sound of her own voice.  (obviously again)  She best not pass the buck on to me to do those documents.  I swear I will spontaneously combust.  Or pop a blood vessel.  Or something akin to exploding.

Is it me?  Or am I just surrounded by fucking idiots and an overly-sassy child?  I need my meds adjusted.

Fallin' Out of My Head

My random thoughts lately:

When the fuck is someone going to stop all that oil from gushing in to the Gulf?  I mean, seriously.  This is ridiculous.  I almost feel like it's some fucking conspiracy to raise gas prices.  I certainly wouldn't be surprised.  It's been like 45 days or something...way to kill the ocean, BP. 

I saw (briefly) in the news that Miley Cyrus kissed a girl on TV the other day.  Or she *almost* kissed a girl at some entertainment function.  #1) Why is this news?  #2) Why is Ms. Cyrus intent on acting like some kind of slut (first the lap dance, now this?)  #3) What's the facination with girl-on-girl action anyway?  Y'all know it's FAKE girl-on-girl right?  I wouldn't think it was hot unless it was genuine.  Just saying.

I'm sad to see Rue McClanahan passed away.  I loved "Golden Girls" and now Betty White is the only one left.  Major frowny face.  Those ladies were hilarious.

Husband is getting on goddamm my nerves.  Wednesday, my Facebook was something like "I was driving on my way home and realized there was all crap music on my iPod.  I realized Husband must have deleted all my totally kickass music and replaced it with his lame ass music!  How DARE he?"  Husband doesn't have a Facebook account so he had to login to mine in order to see this post, which I meant to be sarcastic.  He didn't take it that way.  He bitched me out then said that I "embarassed" him.  Then he didn't talk to me all yesterday.  You know what I think of this whole thing?  I think he overreacted in a major way, and that he can suck my ass.  He's such a bitch. 

I'm listening to Pandora Radio -- to my "funk" station -- and every artist that has been played is black.  I started to wonder if the term "funk" also meant "black".  I mean, I'm not trying to be racist, but can white people create "funk" music, and if so, can you name a white "funk" artist?  And Eminem doesn't count.  He's a rap artist.  Chew on that.  (Update:  they played the Bee Gees.   I don't think they are true "funk" artists, though.  Right?)

My boss has not been in the office since Wednesday afternoon and I am lovin' it.  It's so quiet and calm around here without her.  Picture the Tazmanian Devil and his little tornado cloud.  That's her effect on this office.  I can actually get shit done when she's not here.  Bonus.

I had to teach my daughter about internet predators the other day.  She discovered how to play her Playstation 3 online (she is obsessed with "Little Big Planet") and one night this week she was playing with another person online.  I didn't think anything of it until we went to bed and she was talking about the kid she was playing with.  I asked her how old he was, and she said he was 9.  Nothing happened that caused me to worry, but it occured to me to warn her about weirdos out there in case the next person she comes across is some child molestor.  I told her to never give her name, address or phone number to anyone online EVER.  Because strangers are fucked up.  I'm glad I remembered to tell her and I thought it was very sad that this is the world we live in.

I love the TV show "Chelsea Lately".  Chelsea Handler is my kind of chick.  She loves the vodka (represent!) and she's snarky and bitchy and hilarious.  I watch her every night.  I am a huge fan.  Last night, she had the guy who wrote a book called, "Sh*t My Dad Says".  "Shit My Dad Says" is also a group or something on Facebook and it gets updated with shit this guy's dad really says.  Like this recent gem:  "No. Humans will die out. We're weak. Dinosaurs survived on rotten flesh. You got diarrhea last week from a Wendy's."  If you haven't found it on Facebook, please check it out.  You won't be disappointed.

Kristen Stewart is a dumb asshole.  I am so sick of her and her "anti-celebrity" bullshit.  And to equate being famous to being raped -- obviously, K-Stew (E! Entertainment channel calls her this, which is another reason I hate her) has never been raped.

It is gross I find Russell Brand sexy? 

OK, I better get back to work.  Have a fabulous weekend!

Crazy is a Relative Term

I've been thinking long and hard about which client I should post about, considering it's my first time to talk about my clients on the internet.  I came to the conclusion that y'all may enjoy meeting Mr. Tom Thompson*.

Mr. Thompson came to my office seeking custody of his daughter, Melody.  He has been divorced for roughly 10 years, and sole physical custody of Melody was given to his ex-wife.  Mr. Thompson enjoyed parenting time with his daughter every other weekend, every holiday, and all summer long.  Melody is about 13 years old.

In Michigan, in order to change custody from one parent to another the party requesting the custody change has the burden to prove that it is not only in the best interest of the child(ren) to change the custody, but that there exists a very good reason to change custody.  And I mean, it has to be A VERY GOOD REASON.  Because the courts don't look at changing custody arrangements very lightly.

So, what you may be wondering is what could be the very good reason Mr. Thompson gave me that made me want to help him?

Well, in layman's terms...his ex-wife is bat-shit crazy.  Literally.  Like she needs to be institutionalized.

Mr. Thompson then told me one of the most fucked up stories ever:

On or about April 25, his daughter calls him in a panic.  She has locked herself in the bathroom and asks him to come over to her mother's house to come get her.  She tells her father that her mother just tried to perform some religious ritualistic exorcism or something on her, where she held down Melody, sat on her chest and put a satin cloth over her head.  Mom then sprinkled some ashes or something over her, was doing some sort of chanting, and wouldn't let Melody up.  When she finally broke free, Melody ran and locked herself in the bathroom and called her dad.  Mr. Thompson went to get Melody right away, but also called the local police, who then in turn called Child Protective Services (CPS).  After arriving on the scene, the police did an investigation, made a report, and then Mr. Thompson and Melody had to go to the police station to meet with CPS.  Mom didn't go because she doesn't drive and apparently, no one would give her a ride.

CPS does their investigation and found there to be a sufficient emergency situation where Melody was to be removed from her mother's home and could go home with Mr. Thompson.  A day or two later, they did a full investigation and recommended to Mr. Thompson that he hire a lawyer and try to get full physical custody of Melody.

The story doesn't end there though.  A few days after that, another police report was made regarding Mom.  Mom was out walking her dogs and was walking around her condo complex.  Apparently, she also was carrying a loaded gun in each hand while she was doing this.  Luckily, her sister found her and called the police and no one was hurt.  At that time, the police arrested Mom and had her committed to a mental hospital for "evaluation".

NOW is where I entered the scene.  Mr. Thompson also told me that his ex-wife hasn't paid any of her bills in over a year, her home is in foreclosure, she burns all of her mail out in the backyard, wanders around the backyard and often kneels with arms outstretched and prays, and that the walls in her home are covered in Bible scriptures that Mom has written all over the walls.  She also had pictures of Melody in a circle she had drawn in her living room, with a pentagram inside the circle.

Do you hear the "Twilight Zone" theme song yet?

Now, I'm not trying to make fun of mental illness.  Really.  I feel very sympathetic toward Mr. Thompson's ex-wife, and even asked him if she was getting help (he told me her sister is trying to get guardianship over her so that they can get her some help). 

But daaaaaamn.  This story is fucked in so many ways. 

And in case you're wondering how it ends -- it hasn't yet.  I tried to file an emergency order to get Mr. Thompson custody of Melody but was informed today that the Judge assigned to the case wants me to file a Motion and that I need to somehow get the CPS worker to show up at the hearing.  I haven't quite figured out how to work that out, but I will.  I figure Mom won't show to the hearing since she burns all the mail, and never attended any of the CPS hearings.  It's obvious the woman is a few sandwiches short of a picnic.  I just need to get a final order in place with the court system.

On the bright side -- during all of this, Melody is safe at home with her father.  By choice, she has no contact with her mother and she is trying to work through a very scary experience.  I can't imagine how she must feel, considering your parents are the two people in your life that you should trust to keep you safe, and here her mother is acting all whacked-out.  I can only wonder at what she experienced in the months prior to making that call that night.  Mr. Thompson tells me Mom has been mental for about a year now.

I'll keep you posted on the case, and also introduce you to more of my clients in future blog posts.  Hope you enjoyed Mr. Thompson's story, because, seriously -- I did.  Just goes to show you that real life is so much more jakked than anything anyone could think up.


*Names and dates have been changed to protect the innocent, and more importantly, to protect my ass!

HEY EVERYBODY!!! ANYONE STILL OUT THERE?

I'm back y'all.

As you may have noticed, I have been very quiet as of late.  Partly because I'm super-busy at work and at work is where I do my blogging (as everyone should), partly because I've been feeling uninspired, and partly because I just don't think there's anything left to write about.

Boy, I was wrong.

I've been working for the past six months (can't believe it's been SIX months!) at a law firm, where I specialize in family law.  You know what that means, don't you?  It means I get some fucked up shit wandering in and out of this office.  From divorces, to child custody battles, I hear some whacked out stories.  And if you should know anything about me, it's that I LIVE FOR WHACKED OUT-FUCKED UP STORIES.  Especially other people's stories (mine are not that amusing to me, obviously).  I mean, this job is right up my alley considering I live for stories like the ones I get paid to hear!

I realized that I am living awesome material RIGHT HERE.  I also know that as long as I am not giving out personal information (like names and shit) that it's no breach of confidentiality to tell all of you about the crazy situations that I encounter. 

I'm going to get working on organizing a few of my most recent doozies.  Look for my next post when you'll be introduced to the wonderful world of being a family law attorney.

WHOA.

Please excuse me and the following two posts.  There are many, many typos and I think I rambled on a bit too much at a few points.  Last night, I took an ambien before bed then decided to write on my blog.  I barely remembered doing this last night, until I logged on just now and fear siezed my heart.  LOL  I mention killing my husband twice and I say various forms of "fuck" about 3,000 times.  If I didn't know better, I would swear ignorance to writing these posts.

But I'm going to leave them how they are.  Despite their typos and mispellings.  At that point in my ambien haze, I start to see double-vision and it's just lucky I wrote in (relatively) complete sentences.  I'd love to hear your comments.  Maybe I should write more while flying high on ambien?  You be the judge. 

And in case you're wondering...I went to bed immediately after writing these posts and slept like the dead.  I don't even remember stirring once.  That ambien is some wonderfully powerful shit, in more ways than one.  And yes, I have a legal prescription, so you don't have to worry the DEA is going to bust me in some illegal ring or something.  :)

Fuck You, High School Muscial....Can't wait to see all of you in 20 years!

I feel like I need to start a little weekly post, about celebrities that make me feel old.  My biggest fear when I was in my tween-and -teen-and then college years, was that I would lose touch with "cool" music.  I mean, I am a child of the 70s, so I got to experience disco firsthand.  I was a tween-teen in the 80s, which was just so awesome in itself.  Then along came my college years -- growing up grunge.  I adored Nirvana with all of my hear and soul.  But who's the Nirvana today?  Is there even one?  If so, would I like their music?

So there's my background about music.  Was a Debbie Gibson, Tiffiany, New Kids on the Block fan.  I tried to find substance behind the fluff, which is why this week's installment hurts twice as much.  I was watch "High School Musical 2" (please dont judge me...I do i for the kid, I swear) and was checkingout Zac Effron (I think tht's how you spell his name).  Well, cute, boyish, teen bait, Zach made me feel like a dirty old woman.  Because while I have never really bee attracted to him, he made me want to be in that fucking musical with him, jumping around and doing all the dumb shit they were doing.  DAMN YOU, DISNEY AND ALL OF YOUR CUTE TEEN MOVIES.  I swear Cute Teen Movies is a sign of the apoclypse.  It has to be.  Save your souls!  You've been warned.

I Stroked-the-Fuck-Out Today and No One Gave A SHIT!

was fit to be tied today. Wait…that’s not even strong enough to express the depths of my anger today….I was seriously ready to completely and utterly STROKE-THE-FUCK-OUT today at work.

My boss had three clients coming into the office – one at 3pm, one at 4pm, and one at 5pm. Not a big deal, right?

Well it because a nuclear fucking bomb when you try to pawn off 3pm appointment to another attorney in the office, who, he himself has a 4pm appointment coming. Oh, and did I mention the 3pm appointment was “running late” and didn’t show up in the office until 3-fucking-thirty? OH YEAH I WENT THERE.

The 3pm (actually 3:30pm now) gets pawned off on Asshole Attorney. I’ve decided I’m going to be calling him for what he really is everyone. He’s a direct descendent from a long line of assholes, I’m quite sure.

The the 4pm person comes. My boss and I are working on a HOT HOT HOT DO IT NOW NOW FUCKING NOW project, that apparently, if it doesn’t get done, the world is goig to blow up, and children are going starving or some shit. And it case you are wondering IT NEVER GOT FINISHED.  Fuck those hungry starving children, sister girl an't got time for you today.

Back to 4pm appointment who was finally graced by the resence of my boss at 4:40. The 5:00pm appointment ended up finally being seen around 5:40pm and all the while, my ass is completely held hostage in their estate planning process because I’m signing their all important testamentary documents as a witness.

Want to know what time I finally got the fuck out the office tonight? Don’t worry I wont make you guess. It was SEVEN-FUCKING-THIRTY at least. Give or take a few minutes. That work schedule should blow me or something to keep here there that late.

I drove home in a blind rage ready to schew the stearing wheel off of my car because I called Husband's cell phone and there was no answer.  Which meant I had to call the house number and USE PRECIOUS MINUTES FOR CALL THE FUCKING LANDLINE.  Of course, Daughter picks up and says "Daddy'a right here"klsdjlk;sfjaksl;fj;salkfjasl;kfjasl;kjfla;skfjal;skfj that is the steam coming out of my ears.  PICK UP YO MUTHAFUCKING PHONE WHEN IT RINGS YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE.  DO NOT AVOID ME BECAUSE I AM YOUR QUEEN BITCH AND YOU WILL BOW TO ME.

You an imagine how our little family dinner when.  And yes, there were many apologize made BY me, but I didn't mean them.  I mean shit, people, I'm having one SUPER-CHARGED-FUCKED-UP DAY and you make no effort to kiss my ass, let alone cook your child dinner along with me, consdering your lazy fucking ass has been home for te last THREE GODDAMM HOURS. 

I have a feeling this post is going to either be great or come out like shit. I recently took an Ambien about 20 minutes ago and I’m loosing touch with my keyboard and my screen looks like wavy fabric.

All I really wanted to say when I start this rant is that I fucking understand those television shows with titles like “Snapped” and shit like that. Because I really feel there is going to be a day where I just stap. And I don’t mean I’m going to kill myself or my kid or something, or even anyone in my family (husband can breathe a sign of relief). Just something.

The Ambien is getting deeper and its making me harder to write. I was trying to ititiallly write about the rage I felt today but being high on Ambien softens the mood a bit, much to my chagrin. Although I’m sort of glad that my head isn’t going to explode off my head or anything, or that I’m going to stab Husband to death or something.

Don’t worry evernyone, I’m not a mental patient I just play one when I’m medicated. I’m even afraid to read what I’ve wrote so far, but I do know at least it should be interesting.

I was trying to captrure my rage and all I managed to capture what my rambling thoughts seen through an Ambien haze.