What rubs me the wrong way about seemingly well meaning blog comments, is when their affect is the same thinly disguised smugness my mother spreads like radiation.
Find your peace.
I didn't lose my peace. I never had it.
From the get go I was peacemaker, umpire, and life long ticket holder to the 24/7 freak show.
I spent the first third of my life watching my parents destroy each other.
The second third of my life acting like the first third never happened.
Now I am supposed to spend the final third with my hat in hand trying to appease a dictator and find peace that was never instilled in me in the first place?
AND IT'S STILL MY JOB TO BE JESTER TO A FUCKING CLOWN?
I have to bend myself around a person who's mood's change by the second?
For a life of dancing like a monkey, I/we get ...an even harder time from them/her?
I come to blog and vent, and some bitch tells me to please heal.
You heel you fucking mutt.
Start a blog of your own. Find out why your kids hate you.
Cuz If your kids haven't snuffed it. THEY WILL Lowenstein give them time.
You guys can't stand alone.
Except to send a scout out and poke at us like hornets and run back giggling.
And you wonder why your kids won't pick up the phone.
It's much easier to pal around and piss and moan about how your kids spouse is poisoning your child against you. That way you can watch Conan with a clear conscience, roll over and go to sleep, and say it's them, not me.
Like you have been doing all your life.
Truth be known you like the attention that being at odds with your children brings you. You fuckers just about bust a nut commiserating about something you could change in a day.
Bust a nut.
It's a euphemism for an orgasm.
It's that thing men have just before they quit humping you.