*When Mr. Ashley described the condo as trashed, he was not exaggerating. If anything, he was understating the situation. I saw the condo for the first time since scumbag whoreface moved out and I would call it outright vandalism. The only thing that kept me from falling to my knees and sobbing was the piss stained concrete and my fury derived adrenaline. Unbelievably, it was even worse yesterday. Mr. Ashley and my mom spent some time cleaning it up before I saw it so that I wouldn't track that bitch down and kill her. I still might.
*If I had to choose between using the bathroom in a frat house and using the bathroom in the condo, I'd pick the frat house. At least in a frat house there is only a chance you'd catch an STD from the toilet seat.
*I am capable of manual labor, but I do not enjoy it. I can paint, spackle, caulk, pry up piss and shit stained carpet tack strips, put stuff in dumpsters and lay laminate flooring. I think I am also capable of murder and came up with quite a few "perfect crime" scenarios while I scrubbed dog crap off of the walls.
*If you go to Home Depot in a dress and without a man, you will get stopped every aisle by helpful employees who are not only willing to tell you which aisle an item may be in, but would like to personally escort you there. As soon as your husband shows up, they will magically turn back to their regular selves who refuse to make eye contact and turn around and run if they hear you say, "maybe we should ask that guy."
*No matter how nicely I ask, my mom will not give me Scunty McGunty's new home address, even if I promise that I'm only planning on returning her dirty dishes and rotten food to her.
*The walls of the condo are surprisingly not drywall. They are actually made of sponge. So even if you do find some unopened paint cans in the garages of various friends in a color that would be suitable for a rental condo, you will only be able to paint 98% of a room and then you will run out. Even in the smallest of rooms. You will not know this until you have painted 98% of a room.
*The Dirty Whore does not ever walk her dog. Although this was pretty obvious from the 900 sq. ft. of completely saturated carpet, three different neighbors approached us to inform us of this. Then when the maintenance worker saw me hoisting piss stained carpet tack strips into the dumpster, he correctly guessed, "D-6?".
*My brother still cares for this disgusting skank, but is fully aware that she is to be kept far away from me at all times and is not welcome at holidays, on my boat, on the island we go to or downtown on the very off chance that I should happen to be there. He also knows that be better never ever get this piece of white trash pregnant.
*Even if I am absolutely exhausted, with a sore back, swollen feet and red, blistered hands, I cannot resist having a little taste of freedom if I have conned someone else into watching the boys. I am planning on doing the Master Cleanse diet on Monday (crazy, huh? More on that later) so I drug myself to the other side of town to hit up a health food store.
*I am really not comfortable talking to strangers about impacted fecal matter and the effect senna tea will have on said fecal matter. I don't want to hear the terms "scrape, feces, colon and cramping" in the same sentence. However, some people have no qualms about discussing such things, even in the aisle of a grocery store. Weird.
*Whenever you need alcohol the most, inevitably you will be out of it. I did manage to hunt down one sad glass of wine, the bottom of a bottle that was opened too long ago, but whatever...it's this or rubbing alcohol at this point.