Soapbox Diner

See you in Hell. I'll be the one with the beer, Bitch.

10.30.07

Sunday I got a lovely phone call from T's BIL. How you been doin', SBD? Long time no talk. What's the haps, mama?

Same old same, ex-BIL. How are you?

Good, wanna go get a beer?

No, that's OK.

So tell me all about what you've been doin' with yourself. I've wanted to stop by and say hello sometimes, but with all the history, didn't want to intrude.

No, I hear you. Water under the bridge and all.

So tell me. Tell me everything. You sound stressed.

Well, since you've asked three times and haven't really taken my gentle hint that it's not really appropriate to ask, I'll tell you. Selling the house, dude.

What? Why?

Well, it's just a lot to handle for one person, that's all. Got a promotion though. That's been a good change.

Did you get more money?

Nope - lateral move. But the rewards will come in the long run.

WHAT?!?! You're selling the house because it's too much money, then you take a promotion but don't ask for more money? You're stupid. But I guess you know now that sometimes even if you think things are bad in a relationship, it's better to stay than throw people in jail, huh?

Well, maybe that's true, BIL. But on the other hand, perhaps doing the hard thing and going through hard times is necessary to make things right in your life. Take, for example, the man who has gangrene in his leg. Now obviously that man doesn't want to cut off his leg, but if he doesn't do it, he'll get poison all through his body and DIE. So, I guess he'd be better off cutting off his leg before he's all full of poison and dead. Maybe that's what this is right now for me. I had to cut the dead weight off.

Fuck, SBD. You're evil. I gotta go. Good. Bye.

Yeah, bye motherfucker. Save your penny philosophy for someone who didn't have to live with T's shit for two years. He's your family, not mine, and trust that I am NOT the one whose gonna take someone else's shit.

Heh. God, that felt good.

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sbd v. 11 @ 2002-2007