Me and Mr. Jones

Ahh...What a week. Full of frustrations, stupid boys and the feelings they give me, and drama, real and imagined.

I'll recap.

Okay. This has been a week chock full of baby daddy issues and the sheer ineptitude of the Cuyahoga County Child Support Enforcement Agency. Last Friday (Black Friday, coincidentally), Le Douche Extraordinaire (also known as Douchebag McGee, or Nicky's dad) calls my house, wanting to speak to yours truly. I, however, am not home, seeing as it's Friday and I'm exiled at Lakewood for ten hours. My mom calls me and gives me the run down. I'll share a brief summary of our call.

Me: Hello?
Mom: Lashawn?
Me: Hi, Mom. What's up?
Mom: Asshole called. (Doesn't she have a way with words, that mother of mine?)
Me: What the hell did he want?
Mom: He wanted to know if you were home today. He wants to bring the papers by for you to sign.
("The papers" meaning the papers I'm supposed to sign so that he gets out of paying child support. Dirty bastard.)
Me: Hell fucking no. I'm not signing shit. I already told him that. Several times.
Mom: He wants to come by Monday.
Me: I'm not signing shit, dude.
Mom: I told him he could come by but I wasn't guaranteeing that you'd sign anything.
Me: Stupid douchebag fucker.

Okay, so I can't call CSEA because those lazy bastards are on holiday for Thanksgiving. Because, you know, they're so busy not finding deadbeat dads who skip out on paying their support. Naturally. So I sit in a perpetual fit of rage all weekend long. Ruins my weekend.

Monday comes. I call CSEA and talk to this call representative guy, who turns out to be quite possibly the most brilliant man I've encountered yet over my three years of dealing with the bumbling CSEA. He tells me they sent a letter out ot his place of employment a month ago telling them to start payroll deducting the support from his checks. They got no response, so they sent another letter out ten days before I called. I'm slightly excited because I figure that maybe they have the bastard cornered. So I tell him I'm worried Douche may skip out and run to Tennessee. Awesome CSEA Guy pulls up info on Douche's wife's dad (who lives in Tennessee) and flags it in my report so that my newest case person can pursue that lead. When I hang up the phone a half hour later, I feel cautiously optimistic. The ball is finally rolling.

And then Tuesday comes. I'm in a glowing state of a good mood, and then I get a call from CSEA. Apparently, "Mr. Serrano's employer is not on file." Screeeeech. Ball comes to an abrupt stop. I ask how is that possible when they sent a letter to his job, and I'm told that "often in these situations, the father is receiving cash payment." Well...I hang up and I try calling my new case woman, whom I find out is on vacation until December 7th. Well fan-fucking-tastic. Splendid.

And the week drags on. I slog through work, feeling like God, life just about sucks right now. I look at that apartment, and I'm happy. Overjoyed. But then my best friend's husband ruins it. The guy I like and mess with from time to time (it's a long and gahhh kind of story) lives next door to the building, and he's the one who told me about said apartment for rent. Innocent enough, right? Well, my best friend mentions it to her husband, but she tells him it's in the same building, which leads him to say "She needs to quit fucking stalking him and get a life." Whoa dog. I don't stalk people. I have never stalked a dude in my life. Nonetheless, he says all this harsh and unnecessary shit which totally depresses me and makes me feel like shit.

The next few days go by without a problem. I'm thinking that perhaps the week will end nicely.

Right. I go to the grocery store with Nicky and my mom today, and just guess who I happen to be two checkout lanes away from? Just guess. Douchebag McGee and his woman. By this point I'm pretty much like are you fucking kidding me, and he glances in my direction and she glares at me repeatedly. Seriously. I haven't seen that fucker in almost four years, and suddenly I have this uncontrollable urge to smack the shit out of him. He's lucky there were no scissors nearby, or else he'd have a pair sticking out from his jaw. I, however, would like to reassure you that I am an adult and did not stab him in the jaw or smack him or even confront him. Him and his skank are the kind of people who will file a police report against you, so I did the next best thing. I talked shit about him really loudly so that he could hear me. I'm not sure if he did hear me, but it made me feel good, so that's all that matters.

I'm going to call the tragically inept CSEA tomorrow and demand some answers. I'm tired of him getting away with this crap. I also got the apartment, but I told the landlord I won't have money to put down on it until after Christmas. That doesn't work. I have to put money down on it now or he'll show it to this other girl. Ughhh. Now I have to try and borrow some money from God knows who this week or the apartment will go to someone else. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Here's to hoping this week goes the tiniest bit better.