Warning: The following page contains graphic, descriptive
violence and adult language and is not intended for
children, adults with weak stomachs, expectant mothers,
people with weak hearts and may not even be suitable
My First Wife
I don't know when and I don't know why, but I met
my first wife around the same time I met cocaine.
Soon after, I introduced them to each other, and the
three of us had a love triangle. We got married,
in my opinion, because we were doing drugs and having
sex, and both of us were were both young and dumb.
It seemed, at the time, like the next logical step.
We got divorced over jealousy. I thought she liked
the third party in our love triangle more than she
liked me, and she felt the same way about me. So,
it was over. Actually, she was also doing my
"boss" at the time, so it all worked out
for the best. I have absolutely no ill feelings
toward that lady today. I have no idea where
she is or what she's doing, but if I ever bumped into
her, seeing her doing well would not bother me, at
all. In fact, it would make me feel just fine.
The Second One
My son's mother, on the other hand, who I hate to
admit was wife number two, is a different story.
A waste of skin. A black hole of a soul.
A cheating, whoring, racist coke whore whose only
contribution to humanity was my son. Had I known
when I allowed her to have primary custody of my son
that she had already lost two children to a former
husband for being deemed an unfit mother by the court,
I never would have allowed her the chance to get away
with keeping my son from me, the way she had from
mid-1999 until he decided he wanted to move in with
me in 2006.
I have this dream: One day, after whatever
skeazy scheme she's working up in that worthless,
trailer-trash mind of hers, on her way to wherever
she intends on going, she finds herself speeding,
uncontrollably, down a major highway. Because
Karma is a redhead, she crashes, head first, into
an oncoming gasoline truck. Her car bursts into flames.
Her seatbelt won't open. The steering wheel
presses against her chest. She gets trapped
in her car while the gas and flames spread all around
But it all happens so slowly that she smells and
feels every single noxious, burning and painful minute
of it. And just before her certain demise, the
paramedics and firefighters show up. She watches
as they try to gain entry. Gasping and writhing
at every passing second. Getting a first hand
view of her skin charring like a Dairy Queen hamburger.
Finding it harder and harder to breath as her lungs
fill with putrid, noxious gasses.
The rescuers finally reach into the car and attempt
to pull her by the arm from the embering remains.
But as they grab her flame-broiled appendage, she
watches as the extra crispy limb breaks away, the
skin marbleizing like a Texas brisket, and falls lifeless
from her body and crumbles into a pile at the feet
of the fire fighters.
Finally, when she is able to be removed and the flames
are extinguished, she lives just a few days longer,
feeling every painful breath and nerve ending, as
if the cosmic righteousness of the Universe attempts
to get even for all the nastiness this drek has flung
at the people, places and things around her as she
skid-marked her way through, what she called, a life.
I didn't try and come up with this dream. It came
to me of its own volition after years of exhaustive
effort to try and patch up the marriage with this
pookyak for the sake of my son. I was a good father
to him and I didn't want his family unit to fall apart.
But with this woman there was no patching it up. She
refused to discuss anything in an adult manner. I
was living an emotionally and spiritually dead existence.
The physical and mental stimulation wasn't worth sharing
about either. It seemed as though she used me
as someone she could blame for every problem that
she ever had in her life.
What's too bad is that the children have to suffer
because selfish cunts like her and my mother's daughter,
two total wastes of life who know only how to quick
After she moved out, but before the divorce, she
engaged in a one-sided war of words, slandering me
to her mother, my son, those who used to be our mutual
friends and anyone else who would listen, including
the police. This lady had the almost jocular
reputation among my friends, neighbors and co-workers
as having me arrested every six months, "whether
I needed it or not".
One such typical time period, after following the
letter of the law to the tee, I received a court order
allowing me to take my son out of state to visit with
his grandmother. The Cunt-essa of Doom was
given an itinerary, copies of the plane reservations
and phone numbers for where we would be staying.
All of which was beyond what the court had deemed
necessary once the order was written for the visitation.
Upon my return to the regularly scheduled place of
exchange, I arrived on time with my son and we sat
alone in the parking lot, until out of every corner
of the lot police cars came barreling down on us.
We were surrounded by cops with guns drawn.
This pearl of southern wisdom called the police and
said that I had been stalking her for the passed week
and would be in that lot at that time and that I was
carrying an unlicensed gun and she was afraid for
the life of her child. I had no gun. My son
had no fear (until he saw all the cops with their
guns drawn). And no one bothered to explain
how I could be stalking her from 1500 miles away.
Of course the charges were dropped due to lack of
evidence and the complainant not appearing to testify,
but this was typical of her maniacal mind while I
lived within the same state borders as her.
Why, in all that time, did no one from the judicial
system ever arrest her for continuously filing false
police reports, is beyond me.
Not too long afterwards she stopped showing up at
our mutually agreed upon, court approved, child custody
exchange location. I would call and she wouldn't answer.
I would call the police and was told it was a civil
matter, not a criminal one, and they couldn't do a
thing. I called my attorney and he said that
even if we take her to court and they tell her to
bring my son, she still didn't have to show up and
there was nothing I could do.
I even moved out of state and told this skeez that
I would take my son for summers and winter breaks
and fly him out to me and she would never have to
see me again, and she still refused. I would
call to speak to my son, and although I used to get
an answering machine, even that was turned off.
I now know that the messages never got to my
I've written and received nothing in return. I sent
birthday and holiday gifts. I called regularly. It
wasn't until my son moved in with me that I learned
that he never got anything I sent. How I ended
up with this stugats is beyond me. She is so out of
touch with reality that she leaves incriminating messages
on answering machines. I have included some
of those recordings here (Click on the hyperlink to
hear this worthless mook's irritating diatribe):
(What most people call restraint and manners, the
cunt calls, "Whimpy")
(Forget Court Orders, the cunt lives by her own set
of the Picture (Out of the blue she decides to
leave me a message saying that I'm out of the picture)
of Life (She's not even bright enough to come
up with an original expression)
Most recently I have come to find out that even though
my son is now living with me, and has been for the
past three years, that she has been illegally accepting
social security checks that should be going to my
son, forging his name and cashing them and using the
money for herself. In the last three years that
the boy has been living with me he has never seen
a check or has his mother told him that she had been
Furthermore, he should have been receiving that money
for the last 7 years, although before three years
ago she could possibly have made the argument that
she was using the money for his benefit. But
all told, forgetting that she hadn't signed the consent
agreement until after my son had already turned 18,
she still got child support payments even though he
was living with me, and she was still getting his
SS checks, she owes him about $10,000.00 that I know
that he will never see.
Through it all, I have but this to say to anyone
that finds themselves in this position:
Do not involve your child in the proceedings or the
fights, even if your ex does. And tell the child,
every chance you get, "I did not divorce
you. I never will. I'm here for you.
I love you."; and prove it with your actions.
Third Time, Not Quite a Charm
Actually, my third wife was quite a relief compared
to my son's mother. Even she couldn't believe some
of the things that my son's mother did to me or my
son. And she witnessed some of them first-hand. We
went on with our happy little life, and our happy
little home, for a number of years. Then the
passion left. Then the quality time was gone.
Then the fun seemed to ebb out of our marriage.
Then, one day, while we were sitting around the living
room watching television, I couldn't hold back any
more. I turned to her and said, "There is something
wrong. Things are just not what they used to be. Things
are different." And she replied, "Bam, I don't
love you any more." I countered that there were
a lot of things that we could try going to counseling
for, but not loving someone isn't one of them. I asked
her when she wanted to move out and how long she needed
to get it together. She gave me a time period
that was acceptable and she left a few days before
Since then, we've become good friends. We can
talk to each other for hours. We call one another
about once a month. We seem to be better friends
now that we're no longer living together. Even
my wife talks to her if my wife answers the phone
when she calls. I also feel good when I hear
that she's doing well.
Fourth (and LAST ... I hope!)
On May 11, 2003, Terri and I went to Las Vegas to
get married. This lady has been my friend, my
lover and my confidant since December 2000.
And since that day I met her, she's been my good luck
charm. She's smart and funny and interesting.
She's a wonderful mother and an excellent wife.
She's quick and she's reserved. And she loves
My mother called her once and said, "Congratulations.
You've now been with my son longer than any of his
other wives." And another time to say, "Thank
you for taking care of my son." My father
has called the house on numerous occasions and never
even asked for me. He just talked to Terri the
entire call and then hung up.
Together we have three boys, from a total of four
previous marriages, between us. The boys are
all about a year apart, the first born in 1989 and
the last in 1991. Then we found out in mid-2009
that Terri was pregnant. We had a baby girl
on 21 December 2009.
Our daughter is named Isabella Noelle. Isabella,
after my aunt Isabelle, my father's only sister, who
died in the summer of '08. Noelle, for Terri's
mom, who died in April of '09. Isabella Noelle's
Hebrew name is Elisheva Devira.
I have a daughter. Life is sweet.