2006-02-18 - 1:19 p.m.

THE DAY I RIPPED A BLOODY CLUMP OF HAIR FROM MY EX'S GIRLFRIEND'S UGLY FUCKING HEAD

That title is a bit much, I suppose, as I don't plan on becoming violent today. I'm just not that kind of girl, friends. I'm not like my sister, who once tackled a handy man who attempted to overcharge her. I'm a peace-loving woman, a genteel spirit, not a fan of conflict in the least. I'm also quite aware that even when she's winning, a scrapping woman looks ridiculous, and I'm far too vain to look ridiculous.

That being said, today could change it all. Today I'll be facing a lesser creature, a human boil. A walking crab colony. An un evolved, gravel-voiced, cigarette smoke-soaked basket of ugly with missing tits with whom my ex husband sleeps. They call it Tonya.
I call it The Seahag.

Let it be known, I'm not jealous of The Seahag. I am no longer in love with my ex. The disdain I feel for The Seahag is the direct result of her being an obnoxious, drug-addled racist moron in front of my children. I have 100% custody, having divorced my husband due to his dependencies, but once in a while when he shows interest, I'd allow him a visit (daytime only, no overnight, and never long enough for him to get drunk) with his kids. The last time I allowed this, The Seahag told my 10 year old son that I pose for racy photos and have sex regularly "behind his back".

Oh no ya didn't, I thought, when all of this came out of my son's troubled face a week or so after the visit. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. For the record, I've never once posed without my clothing, and as for the other claim...well, that's none of a ten-year-old boy's business. Any respectable adult knows that, and for that matter, even the nasty Seahag knew it...but she's long had a strong desire to try to knock me down a few pegs, and I guess she thought this might be a good way to do that. Everybody knows you can totally trust a ten year old not to tell secrets foisted on them by adults they hate. Moron.

The revelation bestowed on my kid by this ugly human stain incensed me to a level I haven't been to many times in my life. Since she is too stupid to talk to and her voice makes me want to spray vomit, I fired off a letter to The Seahag. It said, in short, that she was, just as I suspected, as shallow as a soap dish and with the judgment skills of a monkey. I told her that I had a strong urge to shake her until her brain swelled but opted instead to do what I have wanted to do all along...cut her out of everything forevermore. No more benefit of the doubt. No more visits to "their" home. From now on, Dad come to US, without YOU, Seahag. Somewhere in there I called her an onion head, but aside of that I was as respectable as could be expected. I didn't call her a two-bit smear of crack-smoking scrotal ooze, and I didn't wish death on her, so all in all, I'd call me a "classy lady" in true Ron Burgundy style.

Today my exes family, Cajuns all, will be celebrating Mardi Gras from their store in the historic part of town. It's an antiques store, and the family cooks gumbo and watches the local parade go by every year. Last night I received a drunken plea from the ex to let the kids attend. I'm sure he expected a solid "No", as he's surely seen the letter I sent to The Seahag, but I surprised him with a yes. Truth be told, I'm fond of my ex, and I love his family, and WE'RE looking forward to the visit.

We.

Just like a big ole lovin fambly.

The Seahag is going to be VERY UPSET. Just like I was when she showed her narrow ass up to my kid's 9th birthday because she was too insecure to let the boy's dad attend alone (because everyone knows I just can't WAIT to get me some of his surely polluted crank) despite our son's request that she stay away. Hoooo, she gonna be mad, yeah. Mad as hell.
And I'm gonna smile at her with my mouth full of chewed gumbo and crackers, and I'm gonna laugh.

I might even hang my tongue out.

'Cause I'm a classy lady.

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