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.

Acid Tongue

This has been a week of shit-tastic proportions.

So...Monday, they laid off two people at the dealership. Not in my department, but in Parts and Service. They also cut my hours down, and there is absolutely no overtime allowed. Gah. I hate money. I do. I never ever seem to have enough...I think I'm destined to live at home forever. Forever.

And then it gets even shittier. Nicky's dad, aka Douchebag Extraordinaire, is moving to Tennessee. His sister told me like two weeks ago, but I figured he was bluffing because I refuse to sign the papers to give up his parental rights--he owes me $3047.64 in back child support, and there is no way in hell that he's getting out of it that easily. In fact, I told him that in so many words when he called me in June to see how "the kid" was doing. My best friend drove past his house and saw one of his cars has Tennessee plates.

Stupid fucker.

Ohio is notoriously fucktastic when it comes to getting money from delinquent fathers. The Cuyahoga County CSEA claimed they couldn't find him for over three years. My best friend found his house on two occasions: once while driving her minivan of dreams and eating an Arby's sandwich and actually driving past the house, and twice, when our sluthy duo looked him up on the voter registration site (it's a good thing I talked him into registering to vote, ha ha). It was simple. I didn't even have access to all the crafty and expensive stuff that the CSEA supposedly uses to track these deadbeat dirtbags down. Call me Nancy Drew.

But anyway, I looked up the Ohio rules on interstate child support cases and was kind of pissed. Like the Hulk about to bust out of his clothes in a verdant rage pissed. You need to know the address of the "non-custodial parent" (which I don't) in order to start the collections process. They have his current address but have done nothing really constructive. I know he works under the goddamn table so that they can't take his money. I know he works because my best friend saw a 62-inch flat screen TV in his living room. (Grrr...) But anyway. If you lack the address (which I do), it takes about 3-6 months to get it (which translates to "we'll take your name and just throw it in a pile of unimportant papers somewhere"). Once they get the address or whatever, it takes 9-12 months or MORE to establish the interstate support order.

Seriously. That is ridiculous. He only has to pay $132 a month as it is. Here's an idea: instead of skipping out on your responsiblities, why not just pay the damn money and man up???? I guess that's not an option, so Douchebag McGee, his bitch-tacular wife, and their trashy kids are just gonna run off and live with her daddy in Tennessee and figure that I'll never find them and that they won. Oh my god, I am just soooo frustrated. Like this is a neverending nightmare and really, all I want is Nicky's money. I think we're owed at least that.

And I know if the situation was reversed, the dirty bastard would be trying to squeeze me for every penny I have. That's the fucked up part. Grrr.

Sorry for the vent...I know I'm not my usual sunshiny self, but I am just a bit stressed out now. I'll answer those questions tomorrow and grace you guys with a nugget of Chuck Norris wisdom.

XO