Jeff ran his drunk mouth and the State Troopers decided they didn’t like that so well. So, Jeff got an ass beating that he truly deserved and was carted off to CARES, which is a fancy word for THE DRUNK TANK. This following a crescendo of drunkenness all evening long until finally at 1:00 a.m., I turned my cellphone off and went to bed.
Then Jeff calls at 4 fuckin’ in the a.m. wanting to know if I’m going to drag Nate out of bed and come to the hospital, where he is still half drunk, to pick his ass up. Telling me some sob story about them macing his dogs and they’re probably running the neighborhood or injured. I told him, “No. I’m not coming to get you. Call your Momma.” His response, “My Mom don’t deserve this.” I said, “Oh really. Well, what do I deserve, Jeff?”
Now, the State Troopers have told him, what I told him, his daughter does not want to see him because he’s a drunk. She is not going to the race with him and quite frankly, he’d better sober his ass up or Nate isn’t going either and I told him that. And when he bitched that the State Troopers came in and drug his ass out of his house and maced him, I said, “What the fuck did you expect? You called and threatened them. You were a belligerent ass. That’s what happens when you fuck with the State Police.” And I thank them.
I spent hours last night, trying to calm him down. I did it for Nate. I did it for Aimee, and whether or not that cunt bitch Lori ever knows it, I saved her fucking life last night. I. SAVED. HER. LIFE. And all of this could have been avoided if either Lori or Aimee had enough sense or common courtesy to tell Jeff that Aimee wasn’t going to the damn race.
But Lori doesn’t want to deal with him, Aimee is only 13 years old but by Lord and Lady her mother puts it off on her and Aimee didn’t want to deal with it, she wants to think she’s an adult, but I have news for that little girl, she’s not because if she was she would have done the adult thing and called him and said, “Dad, you’re drinking again, and I’m not going.”
Do you think I want to talk to him? To be involved in any way with this shit? No, I don’t. Do you think I wanted to be on the phone with him and Metro 911 last night? Hell to the no! I was ashamed that he conferenced me into the call. I was ashamed when I talked to the Troopers. I was ashamed to have to tell them that Jeff used to be a man in blue himself! But I had a serious DUH moment with them because they asked me why he was on disability. I said, “UH, MENTAL!”
And Lori, well, in my fucking humble opinion, she should have her ass beat too for being a fucking lazy ass cunt, who pushes and pushes and pushes, won’t return a damn phone call, not even mine, and none of us have seen Aimee and frankly, when I went out and knocked on the door and the damn lights are on, the TV is on, and the dog that normally barks its head off is no where to be seen, yeah, I TEND TO WORRY!
Then she wants to act all high and mighty? My ass. That bitch is living with a man she can’t stand because he brings home a big paycheck, puts her up in a big house, and she can’t wait to win the lottery so she can leave him. Well, sister, dream the fuck on. The only difference between you and the whores down the road are, they actually walk the street.
And Jeff, that stupid bastard, plays right into it. I wish the State Troopers would have knocked him over the head with that fifth this morning so he would really know, DRINKING HURTS! He at least had the common courtesy to call and let me know that he made it home safely and his dogs were okay since the Troopers had, not only the decency to lock the two purebreds in the house, but also turn off his TV, and lock his damn door.
Then, he had the courtesy to call me and tell me he had called the Trooper that beat his ass and apologized for being such a blight on humanity. I told him to shut the fuck up, leave me alone, and go to sleep.
And here I am, blogging at 5:20 in the morning. I’ve had three hours sleep. The alarm goes off in 40 minutes. And all I want is a hug from a tall, dark haired, dark eyed drummer.
Jeff tried to strong arm me into allowing Nate to go on his race trip twice. Both times I informed Jeff that Nate wasn’t going anywhere with him in the shape he was in. Then Jeff tried the, “Help me” card, which got him no where. Sob story, “feel sorry for me,” “I’m hurt, I’m injured,” and all your own doing buddy.
I told him Nate wasn’t going to the race, period, unless he was sober. Sober = sober, not thinking you are, not ranting and raving like a fucking lunatic, it means sober. It means stepping up and not making excuses or blaming your behavior on someone else. It means taking responsibility for your actions. I told him I would glad to check him into treatment but I was not babysitting his ass at the hospital because the Troopers had to get rough with him. Which was really bullshit, because he didn’t have a mark on him.
So, after me, his mother, his girlfriend, and his father all took the same stance, wow, a totally different Jeff called me. You know, the sober one, who is rational. AMAZING how fast someone can sober up, pull their head out of their ass, and act like an adult when no one is buying their line of shit and feeding their “feel sorry for me” line.
He said, “I know I let it get to me and you’re the only one who I can talk to. I need help.”
I said, “I can’t help you. You have to look for help, it doesn’t knock on your door. I am not an alcoholic, I don’t understand you, and I don’t understand it. If you go to AA, you will meet people who are sober and who have been where you are. I haven’t, I have no understanding of it, and I will not take responsibility for you or for your problems but I will take responsibilty for Nate. You will not drink around him, you will not be drunk around him, not now, not ever again or I will make sure you’re not.”
He was quiet for a long minute, then he said, “I won’t disappoint you.” Pffft! Okay. He won’t disappoint me this weekend because he wants something from me and he’ll promise just about anything to be able to spend time with Nate and his elder son, Scottie, who is almost 20, at the race. Jeff’s girlfriend will probably go down, but she’s taking her own car and Nate’s uncle will be there as well. As a bonus, T-Bird is going to be in NC this weekend, about an hour away from where Nate will be.
Qualms? Hell yeah, but not about the weekend, not anymore. Jeff and Nate will be fine but I meant what I said. It’s either Nate or booze. He can’t have both anymore.