Whoa! Didja get the numbers off that truck?!?


April 30, 2003 - 5:55 a.m.

Lighting cigars with $100 bills

Today’s the day.

I got a notice in the mail about two weeks ago from my friendly States Attorney’s office. I’ve been invited to the courthouse to explain why I am $4500 behind in child support payments. I should just give them the link to the last entry here.

I knew I was getting behind, but there was little I could do. If you read the last entry you’d understand. I tried explaining the realities of the situation, but she’s always had this fantasy that I’m leading a fantastically wealthy life style… lighting expensive cigars with hundred dollar bills. Ya know, stuff like that.

If things were in such crisis, then why did it take her three weeks to cash the last few checks I’d written her? My guess is she lost them in that pigsty she lives in.

I talked to her on the phone about it a few days after getting the notice. I worked out a re-payment plan. She agreed to it on the phone. I also explained exactly how much I make, and that I could pay 25% of my net (a standard amount around here). I told her I’d put it in writing, we could both sign it and perhaps avoid the whole going to court thing.

I did all that, dropped it off (of course, she was not there).

I heard nothing from her. I called. She made noises about how it wasn’t what we agreed to; she hadn’t seen the repayment agreement, blah blah blah. She’s not very good at lying, she doesn't think her story out in advance. She’s stalling. I told her to look again. She said she’d call me back. Bullshit.

Last Friday morning I showed up at her place at 6:30AM. I knew she couldn’t avoid me then. We had a discussion that grew into a shouting match, which is unusual for us. She can’t grasp the concept that I cannot pay child support based on a wage I don’t make any more. I even made a copy of a check stub so she could do her own math. She started bleating that common rejoinder she always hauls out for anyone foolish enough to make eye contact with her. “I work two jobs!” “I work two jobs!” “Baa-a-a-a-a!” “Ba-aa-aaa-aa!”

She doesn’t work two jobs. She works one job and dabbles in the other. Last summer she got a Realtors license. Add this license to all the other money-making schemes I’ve seen her take on over the past fifteen years. Let’s see, there was Longaberger basket liners, wall stenciling, various and sundry craft ideas… I think I’ve blocked some of the others mentally. The only difference between this Great Idea and the others is that I didn’t have to fund this one. Well not directly anyhow. She has Blimey for that now. The only thing this “second job” produces is the excuse for her to whine about how hard she works. All it really does is provide an excuse for her to be away from her kids, she’s set up her “office” in Blimey’s new palatial estate.

So anyhow back to the shouting match. She will accept nothing less than the former amount and gosh damn it I had better go out and get a second job, just like she did so that I can keep the princess happy.

Fuck. You.

I called my lawyer, the one who processed the divorce. I faxed him all the info I had including the regular child support payments I’d been writing her over the past three years. I’m not a deadbeat, just down on my luck. He will be in court for me today. It’s possible to get it all signed and official today, and ultimately avoid a hearing altogether. He also said he saw no problem presenting the 25% offer I made to the judge, it seems entirely reasonable.

Reasonable perhaps, to rational people.







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