Random Rim Jobs

As I wrote yesterday’s post the Ex’s girlfriend was going on about her pregnancy, about how she may not be able to work with certain chemicals at work (a major oil company in the East Bay) so she doesn’t put her precious cargo in danger. I informed her that one of the things she most definitely should not do whilst pregnant is cocaine.

Because not less than two weeks ago she did just that. No, I did not see her do it, but she and the Ex got home around 8am and then stayed in bed until around 4pm, and then he later admitted what they did.

Then I said something that angered the Ex and his girlfriend and she proceeded to talk about me as if I weren’t in the room – from about ten feet away. I called her passive-aggressive and told her to just fucking talk to me already.

She claimed I was passive-aggressive, a hilarious notion, and I told her she tricked her boyfriend into getting her pregnant.

Apparently that hit a nerve. She got up off the couch and came at me. I remember thinking that it was funny that she was so mad because either it’s true and she just has to admit it to herself, or it’s false and it doesn’t matter what the opinion of the ex-wife of the baby’s daddy is. And I also remember thinking that she’d get to me – sitting in my desk chair, not being threatening in any way – with her fist banished and say something like, “You make me want to hit you.”

Instead, she actually hit me. I don’t remember where or how, but she did. She definitely grabbed and scratched my left arm.  Then the Ex pulled me away.  I kept yelling, “She came at me.”  He eventually got me down on my back on the floor (well, on Isis’ bed), but not before I attempted to kick him in the balls twice and actually tore his t-shirt off him.

She went upstairs from whence she threw down a full-length, leather-handled umbrella, and continued screaming how angry she was.  She yelled that he came inside her – a nausea-inducing notion.  She yelled that not every child is planned and asked rhetorically how I came into the world.  (Much the same way as her shitty kid – my mother planned for me, my father did not.)  She screamed that no one has anything nice to say about me.  She had the nerve to say that Jesús didn’t like me before he died.  She never fucking met Jesús.

I tried to call 911 but the Ex unplugged the phone.  I still can’t find one of the phones.

The whole time she was screaming like a banshee I was calmly leaning against the wall, under the loft bedroom so I wouldn’t get hit with any projectiles.  Then the Ex went on about how his mother told him I would take advantage of his kindness.  This is the same mother who – while we were together and getting along fine – called me a white whore, so I’m not sure that her opinion of me was ever good.  I guess now she can gloat.

I told them to get out.  He told me to do so.  I told him I didn’t trust them in my house with my animals and my stuff.  Really, I wouldn’t put it past the girlfriend to hurt the animals or take a knife to my furniture. Poor Isis was so scared.  I sat on the couch and tried to comfort her.  The Ex and the girlfriend were upstairs where she was telling her tale to her sister on the phone.  The tale included something along the lines of it being a good thing the Ex intervened because I’m so much bigger than she is.  Yeah, my tits are bigger than her little, creepy areolae pads.

While she talked to her sister I talked on the phone to my friend in the downstairs bathroom.  I really was afraid to leave the animals.  As I talked to my friend my left arm really began to hurt.  I took off my shirt and the entire triceps was bruised and scratched, though not enough to draw blood.  My friend told me to get out of there and have my neighbor take pictures.

I went to my neighbor’s place where she took pictures of me looking rather dismal.  Then I talked to her and her husband and they suggested I call the police.  The police – four officers in all – showed up rather quickly and said the usual – that I could press charges, that she could also press charges, that I could get a restraining order, etc.

The officers then went to talk to them, and returned to tell me that they had a friend picking them up, and that they were advised that any damage to my property would be a felony.  I finished watching a movie with my neighbors and then went home.

The Viking (a nickname he both knows about and has approved) came over and spent the night.  He was very sweet to be here at a time when I didn’t want to be alone and when I really wasn’t sure of my safety.

I swear.  True story.