December Blues.

Driving in snow is awful. Especially when giant mother loads of cement trucks speed past you on the 140, kicking up all sorts of road debris into your baby-car's windsheild. It scares the shit out of you and although I am a decent driver (especially for someone who has only been driving for seven months), I still swerve unexpectedly when the unexpected arises.

Me Ma's gone to Arizona. Hopefully the heat there will melt away some of her riduclousness and send her home full of sunshine and rainbows. She says she didn't really spend a fortune on the ticket. I say someone who doesn't know how she's going to live through the month of December, shouldn't be spending mad cash on trips to Arizona. BUT WHATEVER, it's not like I'm the posterchild for responsible spending (sarcastic undertone implied).

A few days ago Josh told me about his wife's dilemma with Christmas shopping. I guess he came home to her crying, worried about how they were going to afford the $300.00 dollars worth of presents she had on layaway at Wal*Mart.
Josh wasn't particularly concerned with the fact that she had spent $300.00 dollars (uh... why not?), but rather worried about what in the hell his wife had spent $300.00 dollars on at Wal*Mart (valid concern. Ewe Wal*Mart). He told her not to cry, everything would be ok; the government owed him money and that they would have enough for everything. So no boo-hooing, the twenty-five year old has everything under control.

I try to keep my mouth shut when he confides this sort of rubbish in me. It's nice that Josh trusts me enough to want to share this sort of thing. I however, am always boggled by the stupidity of the situation. Maybe because I would never put myself in that place, maybe because I think that sort of spending is absolutely fucked up. If I ever have kids and I'm in a financial situation similar to theirs', there will not be a Christmas for me. Christmas is for kids, not for parents and their Corpse Bride action figures that are going to sit on a shelf for the rest of their existence (I say this, fully knowing that I would approve of getting Corpse Bride action figures, even though I find them completely useless and knic-knac-ee. Blech).
Anyway, hearing this sort of crap and then seeing Josh spend a crap-load of money on his wife on Wednesday frustrates me. Mostly because recently, he's been comparing her to me more and more and that sort of comparison, frustrates the fuck out of me. Sure, her and I like Johnny Depp and all things wicked and bad, but so do 8.2 billion, trillion people on the face of the planet, I am NOT like Ann.

And this rant may possibly piss off Josh, so it would be best if he did not read it. I do realise that these warnings are completely useless, as he seems to read them anyway, but this time, if he chooses to read it, it will be of no fault of my own.
I am not like Ann because there is no fucking way that I would not allow my husband to hang out with other women. That is demented and radiates such a low sense of worth in both people that the guilt from such a stupid decision would make me feel even less secure about my relationship. I am even less like her because I realise that putting such a limitation on people, makes the temptation of other women even stronger. We always want, what we cannot have. I am not like Ann because I wouldn't spend considerable sums of money on things that I couldn't afford, even if it was Christmas, even if there was extra money to be spent. Buying extra groceries for a week to feed the bellies of my children will ALWAYS come before thirty dollar barbies. I am not like Ann because I would not marry a twenty year old from another country and expect him to shoulder the burdens of my past family problems. It's nice that her husband wishes to carry around her shit, but I'm not patient enough, or thoughtless enough to put that sort of crap on another person's back, especially someone that I'm supposed to love. I am not like Ann because I would NEVER expect my twenty-something husband to find work, while I sat on my ass and did nothing. I don't give two shits if you're depressed and you feel bad today, you have FUCKING KIDS and they need to be fed and it's YOUR responsibility to feed them. I am not like Ann because while I do have a low sense of self-worth, I'm not low enough to accuse my boyfriend of affairs just because he wants to hang out with his friends. I'm not like Ann because if my husband was sitting on his fucking computer, playing video games instead of spending time with me when he hasn't for a week, I'd flip the switch in the fuse box instead of wine about it.

I am not and I will not ever be. like. Ann.

I would rather be dead than be such a dependant leech of a woman. It's nice to have people make you feel good about yourself, but I don't need people to blow my ego to make me function and I will never depend on my husband for the will to do anything. I am too stubborn and too quick to shut people out before the hurt actually hits to ever be reduced to such a wreck of an idividual. And I am far too concerned for other people's happiness to allow myself to drag their lives into the gutter along with mine.

Fuck that.

It's time to go grocery shopping.