They say it’s your birthday….

Hey, happy belated birthday, you sneaky little thing. I would have got you on the 14th, but I had to pull a double at the car wash trying to pay down the debt on all those bills we ran up to sell the house I split with you that you opted out of. You get all that?

(To all my thousands of subscribers, we used to be married.)

I do hope you’re doing well though, and I hope you didn’t get hit too hard by the feds on that windfall inheritance you received while we were breaking up. How much was that, anyway?

Anyway, sorry I’m late. But today is a significant day also. It’s the last day we ever spoke live. It was March 17, 2017, at 2:00 pm, to be precise, and we were on the phone.

I was telling you I was being crushed by the debt that you were equally responsible for. My name was on those cards but I thought it might be marital debt. Silly me.

I was so desperate, I didn’t think I was going to make rent that month. I asked you for 10 grand, (a drop in your by then, overflowing bucket), and I would forgive the rest. I remember you said, “Don’t think so.” Ouch!

Next thing I know, you went onto my bank account and helped yourself. I never knew you were such a kidder. When I raised a fuss, the police showed up at my doorstep with an “abuse” order and a severe warning.

Boy, you sure know how to keep a guy on his toes. I started packing for Arizona that week. I’m too old and unattractive for prison.  🙂

On October 25, 2017, you texted me birthday wishes and wished me well. Kind a strange turn of events after a restraining order issue. Still don’t know what I did.

On October 11, 2018, while I’m on my morning run, I find out you’ve been even busier, divorcing me by telling the judge you didn’t have any idea where I was. You must have forgot those texts you sent me earlier.

Then you put my correct name and address on the text to warn me you knew where I could be arrested….again. Whoa!

But life is so weird isn’t it? When you emptied out my two bank accounts, then shut them down, you got caught in the IRS mess that followed, now you’re responsible for half. Welcome to the party.

If you had just let me suffer along the way I was, no one would have been the wiser. I was too broke to divorce you. I was also too broke to go bankrupt. I had to sleep with my landlord to get her to overlook my shattered credit report. Which got me banned from her nursing home.

Hey, my break is almost over and I have to get back to washing cars. Say hello to my horse, look after my furniture, and be sure to check the oil on my BMW.

Probably won’t be in touch until the kickoff of my “Retribution Tour.”


Please note: I welcome comments that are offensive, illogical or off-topic from readers in all states of consciousness.

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