Thursday, November 29, 2007


I got a phone message from DH today.

All I can say is...


Wow. Wow. Wow.

I have to speak with my attorney before I say anything else.

Just wow.

I married an idiot.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

It Takes One To Know One

An Asshat, that is.

Since DH is living in a reality of his own creation that makes no sense to those of us who have not had a frontal lobotomy, it is no surprise he would chose an attorney of equal perspective.

Wacky Attorney Jackass, as my attorney liked to call him by the day's end.

By about 10:00 am, it had become the general suspicion of both my attorney and myself (and quite possibly the judge), that Wacky Attorney Jackass had learned to practice law by reading Nancy Drew mysteries and watching episodes of Matlock while eating Cheetos and drinking boxed wine out of a teacup.

First impressions can make or break you...or, in Wacky Attorney Jackass's case, cause the judge to push a 9:00 am hearing to the very bottom of the docket because he is ticked off at you.

It is not presumably wise to try to direct a judge in how he manages his courtroom. Or continue to talk over him once he has decided he has heard enough.

And then to do it again.

Wacky Attorney Jackass does not appear to agree.

Some highlights of his wackassly behavior are as follows...

Apparently, the expectation of the court is that the attorneys meet just before the hearing to come to an agreement. Wacky Attorney Jackass chose simply to refuse to have discussions with my attorney prior to seeing the judge. Nope. Not going to do it, he said.

While we were waiting in the hallway, he did what all highly qualified and exceptionally prepared attorneys would do...He asked other attorneys in the hallway for legal advice.

He demanded the court re-mediate our visitation agreement since "DC is no longer an infant." Unless I've gotten my math skills wrong, DC is ten months old. I do believe that qualifies as infancy.

Our judge, with whom I was very pleased, was all warm and fuzzy smiles when he addressed me. He was like a young, thin Santa without a beard.

He was all scowls and furrowed brows, with his jaw dropped open, when he addressed team Asshat.

Oh, and that fortune I've been hiding away off the coast of Antarctica...Wacky Attorney Jackass seems to have gotten wind of it. He kept referring to my "high" income and "large" deposits made to my bank accounts. I have positively not a clue which accounts those would be, but when he locates them, I do hope I get a cut of the funds.

The judge was clearly not feeling the love for Wackjackly and Company because he was most generous in his award of support to me.

We do have to go back to court at the end of January, at which time, Wacky Attorney Jackass will be responsible for substantiating his claims of my wealth. I have no idea what I will do once he discovers that I am really a princess in line to inherit all of the treasures of ancient Greece.

He will probably be too busy chasing ambulances to take notice.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

An End In Sight

At long, long last, I am finally approaching my custody hearing on the 28th of November. While I am doing my best to be calm, especially since my attorney - whom I hold in the highest regard - says I have nothing to worry about, it has been a rather difficult task.

Certainly the 28th will not mark the cure of DH's deviously wicked evilness. As hard as I try to refrain from paranoia, there are those nagging thoughts here and there. What more could he be planning to avenge himself of my cunning plan to have a baby and leave?

Lately he has taken to referring to me as "genuinely crazy," "a nut case," and "completely insane." In fact, he makes these comments with such frequency and in such a calm manner that I begin to wonder...

Could it be?

Could I be insane?

Could he, who has been known up until now as nothing more than an Asshat, actually be a Board Certified Psychiatrist in disguise?

I could choose to worry endlessly about his plans to prove me an insane, unfit mother. But I have other interests to pursue as I await our court date.

So here I sit, whiling away the time on my tropical island paradise that was paid for out of my well-concealed fortune of rubies, gold, and chicken feet, feeding gooseberries and mint leaves to my magical pet unicorn, as I bathe in the sun with my dear friend, the one-eyed pork chop from a land far, far away.