Sister Mine, Part II

Yesterday seemed to be all about the goddamned Princess. God damn it! It’s enough to wither a soul!

First, she sent grandmother a Mother’s Day card but she tried to get cute about it – she had it written in a strange hand and with no return address. I knew what it was anyway… immediately… Mother’s Day this weekend plus the Albany post mark were obvious clues. Herp derp.

Grandmother was not entertained. are-you-not-entertained-w-text-720x396

Then some person who I suppose is her aunt – allegedly her father’s sister – contacted me on Facebook, asking questions about her so I linked her to this blog entry. I also linked her to dated evidence on a Facebook page that validates the contents of that blog entry. I invited her to share the blog with the Princess’s daddy. What the hell. Why not? I’m beyond giving a shit. She apparently missed the clue when our Grandmother sat right next to me and told her that she was 100% with me, and stated that befriending that man pedo-fucko whom she had purported to despise for 25 years – (she took great glee in pouring pee in his pot plants – she hated him so fucking much) – now that our mother was dead – was all kinds of fucked up and abnormal and irregular and bizarre, and that she could consider herself disowned by both of us if she was going to insist upon doing that. She insisted upon doing that, and yet… still… the numb bitch keeps sending our grandmother Mother’s Day cards and Birthday cards anyway… dumb ass! In case she forgot it wasn’t just me… Grandma wrote her off, too. Never mind the happy shit she may have said during a brief, covert early morning bedroom chat while I slept – she was just placating her until she left.

I have no way of knowing whether or not her alleged aunt – who immediately unfriended me after gouging me for information – (Which I readily provided – why not?) or her alleged father – will ever contact the Princess, and if so, whether or not they will opt to tell the Princess or her spidery creep about this blog. Maybe they will, maybe they won’t – I hope they don’t – but if they do and she reads this, the following is for her:

Don’t EVEN – you bitch – not one fucking word – about protecting your private info. You weren’t protecting me when I told you, at 13 years old, about the adult pedo, older than you even, that had been touching me for a long time. Instead, you opted to believe our mother’s lie and you never apologized to me when it became clear that SHE had lied, not me. God damn you and your snooty, disbelieving, skeptical ass – because I lied to you all the fucking time, right? Oh wait – no – I didn’t. How fucking dare you not believe me?

You weren’t protecting me when all of those goddamned asshole kids tormented me at that miserable school.

You weren’t protecting me when we were being neglected and forgotten for hours in a hospital waiting room, unfed, and you had the money to fix at least the unfed part.

You sure as fuck weren’t protecting me when you and your little bitchy friend dumped terrified little baby me into that snowbank! So yeah… fuck you and fuck that. Why, exactly, would I have an interest in protecting you? Besides, I didn’t give an address or a phone number. Just a link to something on your idiot husband’s Facebook page. I’m sure they could find you from there if they are stupid enough to keep looking for you.

Oh … husband… yeah, right… about that… how fucking pathetic is it that after approx. 25 years (!) together, you assholes quite suddenly get married? Right around the same time that you think you’re going to get all of that Reglan injury/wrongful death lawsuit money and elbow me the fuck on out because I estranged her – yeah – about that – that’s not what is going to happen. It doesn’t work like that.

You only got married so that if anything happens to your miserable ass, any $$ would go to him and not to me! You even sent me a pointed email telling me only so that you married so that I would no longer be your next of kin and spider-John would get any money!  That is pathetic as fuck. That that is what it took for you assholes to get married. Do you even know it?

I doubt it.

In your stupid Mother’s Day letter that Grandmother refused to even look at, you spout some stupid shit about your fucking ego and the fact that you “cannot have anybody tell you whom you may or may not be on speaking terms with”.

It’s not even about that, you stupid, brain-addled, egotistical, arrogant, prideful cunt! It is about who in their right mind decides to become friends with the fucking pedophile that destroyed their younger sister’s life? Then actually proposes the possibility of going out to physically hang out with and spend time with said pedophile during a visit to said sister’s home? Who the fuck does that?!!!! You call yourself a mental health counselor and you can’t even understand why the fuck that is a problem? Really? Bitch, really? Jesus Christ, bitch, are YOU in the wrong line of work!

Also, fuck your “business” with the pedo-fucko, any of that has been concluded for a long time now. Our mother has been dead for over two years now. That’s a shitty-ass lame excuse.

You’re so fucking self-absorbed and convinced of your superiority that the fact eludes you that even though you claim that “cannot have anybody tell you whom you may or may not be on speaking terms with” and that this is about “your freedom to decide for yourself who to be on speaking terms with”, it’s not that simple, O Arrogant One. If you thought that you were going to decide for yourself to be on speaking terms with both of us – well – I revoke that errantly perceived “choice” of yours. This is very much an either/or sort of a deal – your choice was speak to us or speak to him. Both is not an option. So… if it’s us it’s not him. If it’s him it’s not us. you don’t get both. So bitch, yes, I DID tell you whom you may or may not talk to, no matter which way you chose. So suck on that logic. You chose that you MAY talk to him, so, I told you that you MAY NOT talk to us. You need to get a fucking grip on some sort of half-assed reality, maybe dig your ass out from under that fucking hoard for a minute, and understand that when it comes to you being FRIENDS with YOUR SISTER’S PEDOPHILE – yeah… I do get to tell you that you may not talk to him OR you may not talk to me and Grandmother. And I did. I told you just that… so your stupid argument is moot. You watched grandmother sit right next to me and tell you that all of the truths about your precious Mommy and her rapey lies and pedo-fucking that I’ve discussed in this blog – were TRUE. And that she shit all over her boyfriend Gary in order to fuck his best friend and war buddy Tom – I told you that, too, but I was just lying again, right? You denied it all – to an almost special needs degree. Sorry, reality doesn’t work like that. Damn near fingers-in-the-ears-na-na-na-na-na-I-can’t-hear-you sort of shit is what you were doing… so deep in denial you were… but somewhere, inside, you know that it happened. Grandmother told your smug face that all that I told was true – not the poor broken little harelipped rape-baby story, but the rapey LIE story designed to hide her stupid mistake with the hot-shit Italian Stallion was the truth. The bitch got all raw and heart-to-heartsy in that way she did sometimes and told me the whole story herself after Uncle P. accidentally blew her cover just as I fucking described it in this blog. You never fucking believed me – so I guess Grandmother lies to you too, then? It is what it is whether your snooty ass approves of it or not. You treated me like I was a liar and below your general notice or consideration all our lives, even while I was the one telling you the truth. Why in the world would I make this sick shit up?!!

This bitch – our mother – let me believe a was the result of a rape for a decade – in order to protect herself – and then she married my first boyfriend, with absolutely no concern for the fact that he was a pedophile and way too old to have been touching me. She forever tarnished my Snoopy Red Baron inner tube, fucked him right in front of me in my swimming hole; and then she put me in foster care, just threw me away, to a place where I was molested by a horrible dirty stinking farmer with manure-encrusted nails, and used as seemingly endless shit-shoveling slave labor, so that she could fuck and marry my very first boyfriend/molester/pedo ever – and it is some sort of a mysterious fucking mystery to you why I might have stopped loving her? You are really, very fucking seriously, in the wrong line of work.

This pedophile – this adult male, older than you were – took advantage of me when I was just barely a fucking teenager, and then he contributed mightily to the cosmic fucking of my entire world, he destroyed my relationship with my so-called joke of a mother, and he also gave me a life-long complex about trusting men and you’re boggled as to why it might be a problem with me that you want to be friends with him? More, your tender fucking ego MUST always come first? There are not words… for your level of arrogant stupidity…

Ya know what? I told you that I meant it… that 3 years wouldn’t make it ok… and neither would 5… nor would a decade. It was a decision to be made for keeps. A done bun can’t be undone, god damn it!!! No take-backs. No do-overs. You never fucking took me seriously – you just figured that everything I ever said was disposable, unworthy of even fleeting consideration – like when I tried to tell you about the shadow government and the Georgia Guidestones and the many facets of the depopulation agenda – stuff you claim you had never heard of – you scoffed – having no understanding, really, of what you were even scoffing at – and showed me what you thought of me. You fucking sheep.

When I told you that if you were going to be his friend, it was like if you had shit in your hand and slapped me in the face with it – you didn’t even falter. You didn’t even have to THINK about it – your stupid ego – it didn’t take you 5 seconds to choose him. I suppose that over-inflated ego of yours also allowed you to believe that I would be a pushover and that you could just push your way back into my favor after some time had gone by, having “won” like you always need to do.

No. Wrong. Why would that ever happen when you cannot even take into normal, civilized loyal familial consideration that I HATE that most literal MOTHERFUCKER and that your willingness – and apparent desire – to be friends with that motherfucker hurts me! But your ego is paramount to my pain… of course it is, dahling… you made your choice – so go roll in it. Fuck you and your stupid holiday cards and your stupid goddamned letters and your stupid $10 and leave us the fuck alone! grfl

Don’t ever get stupid enough to show up on my doorstep unless you wanna play a little game I call “Garfield and Odie”. It’s where I drop-kick your fucking ass down the stairs.

EDIT 10/5/2017

I remember another thing that REALLY pissed me off.  When my “sister” would come for her “annual” vacation, which was usually only 2 or 3 days, our mother wouldn’t allow her old friend from back in school days to come visit her precious house. So, she had the woman plow in on us every year along with the woman’s son. Our mother got her to herself but we had to share her with her friend. EVERY FUCKING YEAR.   Nice.  We didn’t dislike her friend, but fuck!  It was stressful on us.

The woman’s son, this kid is adorable, something special; and I am not one to rave about kids.  For the most part I find them to be insufferable little smart-mouthed, rude-eyed staring little snots whom I do everything in my power to avoid.  You could say that I abhor them.

But this kid – adorable – intelligent – 12 years old the first time we met him – he didn’t seem like a normal kid. He was intelligent and charming and funny and adorable as all hell – he also had is own unique, kid of old-timey fashion sense and didn’t dress like a normal kid. He looked kind of like a throwback to a forgotten era, he had an adorable vest & newsboy cap, he looked like something that had been painted by Norman Rockwell.

If anybody is wondering – no, he was not Amish. He was just a strange, unique, fabulous, white public school kid.

I live in a HORRIBLE TOWN and maybe the kid is normal and just seemed special because I’ve been here too long.  All the goddamned little creeps here wear gangsta shit, talk … poorly, and start putting brats of their own into the vapid little brain-addled baby-skanks around here before any of them are even out of high school.  One of my former friends coined an amusing name for this rampant local breed of young baby factories.  “(Town name redacted) Mommy Ho’s”.  Oh my.  It’s horrible and it’s funny, because it is true.

This kid was something special. A breath of fresh air cutting through the pesticide-induced “duh” levels of retardation that slouch and shadow this miserable town.

Our grandmother & I were BOTH raving bout the fabulousness of the kid after he & his mother had both finally fucked off into the late night, and my so-lovely sister didn’t have a rude word for our grandmother, oh no, but to me? To me she said something along the lines of, “Gee you’re a little overenthusiastic, no?  I’m glad the kid’s mom is not here to see this scene.  She’d wonder about you”.

I was shocked.  The voice was snide and designed for drawing blood; the insinuation was hot and heavy.  Blatant.  What…? The actual fuck?!!!

I may be a freak but I am NOT the kind of a freak that can fathom or wrap my mind around the concept of sexualizing or molesting a kid, so, FUCK YOU, “sister mine”.

How does YOUR mind work that you could even say that to me? Huh?!

Fuck you forever.


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