Rumor has it, and the evidence suggests, that my dreams have come true and the Skankenho across the street is moving away.
Don't let the door hit ya' where the Good Lord split ya'!
Ya' useless sack of rotted trash.
Skankenho did not bother me when she first moved in with her two daughters. She was clearly a mess and an idiot but not bothersome. My problems started later, about a year and a half ago when she approached me to let me know that her New Fiancee Du Jour was someone I knew. He had been living there for several months at the time. He wasn't just someone I knew, Genea knew him as well.
Work with me a minute, this is tricky. Genea was originally adopted from Ukraine by a married couple. She lived with them for about 3 years, then they disrupted the adoption, and Genea came to us. That couple divorced. That's who Skankenho's new live-in was, Genea's first adoptive father. I call him the Fucktardmoron.
My anger with him is something I have had to bury deep. First of all, I didn't have time to be angry. I had a severely disturbed young child on my hands which occupied most of my free minutes. Second of all, and even typing this I can feel it, I might have just killed him. The agony and pain he caused my daughter was immeasurable and unforgivable. Likewise, the rest of my family. I don't care about the logic against vigilante justice. I wanted him gone and if he wasn't going to have the sense to do it on his own by God, I would have no problem helping him.
So, along with the obvious issues there with Fucktardmoron, I was instantly handed a set of issues with Skankenho too. When you adopt a child, especially an older child, the agencies caution you against telling your child's story. They emphasize it is the child's story, not yours, and letting others know details will often backfire later. Use extreme discretion when deciding who to tell, and hold back whatever is unnecessary. Suddenly this unbalanced faux tanning skank knew everything about my daughter. Everything. And what's worse than her knowing everything is she obviously had access to even more information than I had. More than Genea would ever remember.
You might think that is bad, and it is, but it actually got worse. I didn't go into it much at the time, but Skankenho's 2 daughters are friends with my daughters. They live right across the street and are close in age. Her youngest and Genea were in the same class at school and bff's. Genea, well, she doesn't make friends easily and this little girl was also a bit on the unskilled side socially. So they got on well and together were forgiving of each others flaws. Or maybe they didn't even notice, whatever, it worked. I can tell you the day those little girls found out about my daughters history. They came over to play one day and it was all over them. Their posture, their tone of voice and the expression on their faces told me without question that they knew it all. It was one of the last afternoons the kids would all play together for a long time. We had let Fucktardmoron know that the girls could not be friends, except at school, with him acting as their step-father du jour. That was okay with him, and Skankenho agreed. Neither had a whiff of a problem setting their own screwed up ideas and wants above anyone elses.
Skankenho allowed all of this, and enabled it, under her roof. She sheltered and fed it. They could have moved, but she didn't want to. He could have maintained his own residence, but she "needed" him. There are a thousand ways it all could have been different, ways she could have maintained her status in the Skank of the Month Club without hurting Genea. She chose differently.
I chose not to forgive and not to forget.
We managed to get rid of Fucktardmoron after about 6 months, but he resurfaced and began staying there all day every day for another 4 months. One glorious day he was babysitting for the girls when Skankenho moved her New Fiancee Du Jour into the house. Ah, I saw it happen and it was fabulous. I have not seen Fucktardmoron since. Though I still maintain an active restraining order against him on behalf of Genea, until next spring.
SO! The new fiancee, Yuckman, is stellar. He is a puffy, flabby, middle aged and tattoo'd man with apparently sketchy access to employment. He drives a jacked up pick up truck (surprise!) with the word "Nymphomaniac" on a sticker across the passenger side door. Class and sophistication for all those who ride. A few months ago his parents moved in to the house also. It seems they were kicked out of their residence, had no place to go, and so are now living in Skankenho's basement. I can't say for sure, but I'm just guessing that 4 able bodied adults living in one Housing Subsidized duplex was more than the Department of Economic Security was willing to pay for. Forcing Miss Psychogenic Seizures Wisconsin to leave. Finally.
Hopefully, I'm not counting cigarettes before she smokes 'em. There are boxes everywhere, and trips back and forth often. She herself told me they were moving. I actually managed to spit out words of sympathy for like, two seconds, before I gave up.
BUH- bye, orange skinned, drug sick, crusted ass, useless, scum licking, shit sucking, parasite infested, tramp stamped, loser skank. Go ahead, let the door hit ya'.