It has been an interesting day to say the least. It's not enough that I feel like dog shit, oh no. Casey has to come home from work and resume his whiskey guzzling schedule. He usually lays off for awhile after we get some Dope but I guess today was the day. He came come and proceeded to demolish a fifth of Jim Beam, chasing the whole thing with beers (pussy).
I'm sure I have mentioned that Casey drinks too much, he uses it as a substitute. I can understand that, really I can. Except for one thing.
Casey is a HUGE asshole when he is drunk. Mostly I can ignore it as it never really gets too bad but today....FUCK. He started by making comments under his breath, OK I let it go. Then he graduated to straight out shit talk, blaming me for every aspect of human misery from the holocaust to 9/11. I know that I can be a somewhat hard to live with but give me a fucking break. Waaaaah, it's all your fault. Waaah I hate my life. Waaaah I wish I was still a mildly happy drug addict instead of a miserable drudge on the working class wheel. Tell it to someone who gives a fuck, don't blame me for it.
It's not that I don't care about his feelings, I love him , of course I care. It's just that I don't take kindly to having him fling baseless accusations at me every time he gets shit faced. If he wants to talk shit about my time as a ho (and believe me that is a popular subject) or about my shitty taste in men (except for him of course) that's OK. All that shit is true. When he wants to start in blaming me for stuff that I had nothing to do with, that's when we have a problem.
Every time I had some little wet panty bitch come sniffing after Casey I always told them the same thing, "Honey, if you can put up with his bullshit for more than a few day then by all means, take him." I never actually meant it and I pity the girls who actually tried but it just goes to prove my point. He is as hard to live with as I am! Even though he can be deliciously crazy, sometimes he's just a drama queen.
Yep, I said it. My 6'3 190lb psycho can turn into the most irritating...the most frustrating....the biggest whiny bitch on the face of the earth. I swear he goes on the rag just like a woman. When he drinks It's male PMS times 1000.
So after exchanging words with me (and coming out wanting), he promptly began to destroy things. A plant, a mirror, food I brought home for him. OOOOOH, big man, you can kill a plant and a Big Mac, you must be sooo proud! (you can see why it surprises even me that he has never planted that big fist in my mouth).
After using up all his drunken dickhead energy, he stumbled to the bedroom and passed out. He is now on the bed in a Jesus Christ pose, snoring contentedly, none the worse for his ordeal. I on the other hand have a shitload of crap to clean up and let me tell you, wiping ketchup off the ceiling is not how I like to spend my time on the best of days much less when I feel like death. Maybe if I'm really lucky he'll piss the bed in a drunken delirium. Goody!
I just had to get that off my chest, no use stabbing him while he's dead to the world and can't even feel it. AAAAH love. Beautiful ain't it. Melody
