T.O.W. Away Zone

What's dumber than dumb? J-Fed and The Other Woman (T.O.W.) thinking they can camp out in my driveway with my kids while waiting for me to arrive. 

Back in the old days, you'd get shot for something like that. Lucky for them, the most dangerous weapons I have are my forked tongue, my poison pen and my carton of eggs. (Editor's Note: To anyone who may have forgotten, I was falsely accused of egging the T.O.W.ster's car last December. I still believe she egged it herself just to have something to go cry to J-Fed about. Whaaaa whaaa whaaa whaaaackjob)

So it's bad enough to know that my children are constantly around T.O.W. In fact, there are occasions when they've returned from their father's house, even smelling like that biatch's perfume.

It's so bad I've even taken them to a decontamination chamber to ensure that every trace of the T.O.W.ster is gone. Okay, I don't go that far, but the thought has crossed my mind, especially when the scent of T.O.W. lingers, conjuring up images of the past. Some call it the scent of a woman -- I call it the scent of a home-wrecking wench. Hey, if it looks like shit, smells like shit, must be shit, I say.
 
Anyhow, J-Fed had our daughters for Father's Day. Props to him. I was happy the kids got to spend the day with daddy. What I didn't expect was a showdown at the OK coral... in my driveway. Remember, I moved out of "my house" in February with the hopes that I would never have to see T.O.W. again since I no longer lived two doors down from her. I've since come to realize that short of cutting my eyes out with a carving knife, it's just not possible. Why? Because the Fedster believes it's appropriate to show up to my new house with T.O.W. in tow.

If this were eight months ago, I wouldn't be egging cars, I'd be egging people. A couple of times I've had Mr. Ex wait outside with me before the Fedster arrives to help me maintain my composure. Although it's been months since I've directed any harsh words toward Ms. Robinson, ya never know when I might just snap. After all, I am a crazy bitch... at least if you ask T.O.W. and J-Fed. But we'll save that blog for another time and day.