When I get REALLY angry I listen to "Under My Thumb" by the Rolling Stones and enjoy my love of Brian Jones and mentally flip off Mick Jagger. White hot tonight.
Special Ops Agent princess had the coup de grais this afternoon. It will be difficult for me to maintain the narrative while accurately representing the psychological complexity of it. When my rage is red, it's hard. It's white and I really don't know how to see through it. But here goes the old college try.
I must do this knowing my husband will re enter my room after giving pee his fucking leg massage, which is necessary because he wasn't able to score today (only my inference based upon the request. I believe if he had been able to score, no massage would have been needed).
So to get into my winding narrative. I feel sorry for him, walking back into the bedroom with me at the laptop, ipod going, exuding my barrier. Welcome home. This is where I fucking live, and he gets to visit Alice in her Wonderland or choose not to. That's the heart of this.
Betrayal.
Special Ops Agent princess, my husband colluded and in my opinion used my mother in law. She is the sweetest lady on the planet. Always good, always decent, bears everything, has no unkind word for anyone, she is the ground one sees when they open their eyes. She is extremeley intelligent, duh, has a pure heart. She has patience and forebearance, I simply cannot express my respect for this woman. The idea of her being led about because of her trust and faith, I know she sees much, but so do I, and I am still reeling at all that was successfully hidden from me, makes me sick. Utterly sick.
I still do not have the actual information. What I have been able to piece together is this. I heard two statements about princess buying a house or renting a house or an apartment. The state of my reality went quite suddently from the understanding that princess needs to get a mutherfucking job to princess discussing with me when I came home from work whether I thought it was normal for an apartment to require a monthly addition of 25.00 of rent per month to have a cat there. She discussed with me that she was thinking of sneaking one of her cats in, noteably not big dumb louie. She said she must have her tarantula with her, she just had to. I kept a poker face, I had no idea. She knew I didn't know. Guess who she was trying to poke. So I discussed that it would be more customary for a landlord to ask for an additoinal amount to cover the possibility of damage caused by an animal, that I had not heard of an ongoing monthly fee to house an animal in apartment. If I had, I would have suggested to her that probably about 10k a month to house a banshee would be reasonable in my opinion. But what do I know. Very little as it turns out. I also said to her that anything she tries to hide will become known and that she should just make it known to the landlord that she has one or more cats. She brushed that off. She will view it as a contest to see if she can put one over on her future landlord. princess has always made such a fucking show of her concern for animals. Where do they register in that little equasion of hers? NoWhere. Not in Wonderland, not in Underland. Her pseudo fucking precious animals register NoWhere.
I didn't know about the 10k a year aolloted to her college until two days ago. I infer my husband does not trust me with such knowledge. All is good and well I guess I made the erroneous assumption that people put themselves through college. I sport 100k in student loans, which I am proud to bear because I earned that PhD with straight A's and a disseration that my faculty was begging me to take on the academic circuit. I feel proud every month I am able to write out the checks to pay for my student loans.
She is Viet Cong, she is Special Ops. She does nothing but double back, regroup, and strike again. This afternoon, she did it so subtly. I knew nothing of the apartment rental, I knew nothing of what I can only infer was an agreement betwteen my husband, her, and my husband's mother that she would be funded to rent a pad in her college town.
Now, there is an aspect to this I understand. If princess has her own pad, she'll be less inclined to spend her gross time here. But it undercuts the very notion of independence, and retards her already limited ability to understand who pays for her toilet paper.
Another thing I did not know, it was only alluded to me and I still don't really have any understanding of it, is that C.U.N.T. (Can't Understand Ne'ery a Thing) has been apparently over this incredibly long dreary month been having conversations with my husband about dropping out of college. Nearest I can tell, the apartment is a bribe to her to stay away. Again, I get it some level. But let's not trade long term for short term. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO TEACH THE CHILD. She's been given a green card and it will match the color of my bile when I finally throw up because my ulcers are having a fucking party.

Let's do the full Viet Cong thing and go back to my husband's ex wife. I recieved today a twelve page (12) Discovery document wherein this woman, smelling money, wants to know the details of my finances down to what color my shit is. princess has a good teacher, all the while princess flails "I am nothing like her!!" She came up with that on her own. She is trying to invade every aspect of my life and my husband's life. New arena. Psycho birth mother.

Her children have been estranged from her for years. This past Christmas she made a very bizaree gesture and bought my sons gift certificates to some air trampoline thing or other, on the toddler level. My sons are 6 and 9. I know she has driven past my house, I don't know how many times. We have a trampoline on the front acre. I have never seen her in person. I have fielded letters from her toward her children. She digusts me. She has shwon up at pee's wrestling matches and lurked, my husband and I had to write her another letter attempting to get her to stop doing that.

And now this disgusting request for discovery. She wants to know the very inner financial workings of my clinic, whether there was a prenup or if there is a post nup (you psychological fuck) who is paying for princess's college (as if my mother in law's finances are ANY of her business, as if she has the right to such information If she wanted, my mother in law could pile her money up and strike a match to it - it is NO ONE'S business). And on and on. I vow I will sag against jail bars feeling sorry for my kids and myself before I ever divulge a single piece of information to that cunt.

We've entered a new level. That malicious idiot does not understand who she has locked horns with. I have had so many people for the last four years doing what amounts to me the one, the same, the only thing: compromising my children. That dumb bitch is going to get an arrow from me. I will legally bury her legally. I am so far beyond enragedd I cannot express it. She wants to know the value of my house, my husband's legal interest in it, what fucking color my underwear is.

Pair of aces, those two.