An Ode To Judge Judith Sheindlin: Beauty Fades, But DUMB Is Forever.

So here’s my today:

I’m excited to re-connect with an old friend from way back (like waaaaaaaaaaaaay back to when I was twelve) because it just so happens that she has an appointment today to get a mole removed at Good Ole’ Charles Cole and I’m falling apart and have to get an MRI on the ole’ shoulder following a “walking” episode with a ginormous German Shepard akin to Babe The Blue Ox that yanked the old humerus out of its socket.  She generously offered to give me a ride and even treat me to a brunch-ish sort of meal so that we could catch up because both of our appointments were early.  I was elated and we had a great time, save for a couple stitches for her and a SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPPER long time trapped in a Ginormous Magnet that sounded like I was on the inside of a large drum being beaten on by an entire Marching Band for me—and UMMM by the way……who knew that these things took so long??  I was getting nervous about the timing of this, because my boys are supposed to be dropped off at my house by one or the other of my parents on Fridays at noon and my wonderful cheap crap Net10 phone doesn’t get service inside the hospital.  So I manage to put myself back together after what seemed like an eternity trapped inside this machine, apologize profusely to my friend, who was waiting for me in the hospital lobby for that entirety–she, very graciously, told me–no worries– she managed to read the whole paper, plus two other magazines cover to cover–it was like a vacation!  God, I love people who are willing to say the truth.  What a treasure.  I am so very lucky that she happened back into my life–good friends are so hard to find!

ANYWAY.  I was sadly unaware that, because it was my first time having an MRI,  after I registered–a fun waiting in a line with a number, as if we are cattle, event in and of itself–I had to answer five billion questions in the form of a clipboard full of paperwork about my ENTIRE medical history (and it is extensive, lemme tell ‘ya–uuuuum, and as if the “Charles Cole Conglomerate” doesn’t ALREADY HAVE IT–whatever) and then strip almost naked to go in it, even though it was for my shoulder.  Ironically, the thing I WAS allowed to leave on?  —-My shirt!  It was the only thing I was wearing save for my underwear that didn’t have metal on it–even the tiny piece of metal on my hair tie counted.  Shheeezers.

ANYWAY–the point of this is that I was LATE getting home from this debacle, and my father had stopped at my house with the boys, and then taken them back to his house, where Jaimi–whom I have requested SEVERAL times not EVER be a caretaker for my children for the explicit reason that she once put the life of my infant child in danger, convincing me when Lilly was about 5 weeks old that Mike and I could finally get some much needed sleep and alone time for a couple hours (when she was living with me and my then husband because she couldn’t quite get it together and I was trying to be nice and compassionate) and then abandoned her in a drugged and drunken stupor (which has constituted the entirety of her adult life) in a dangerous situation–which led to her immediate (the following morning) eviction from our house and my estrangement from her since.  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand Lil was born in ’09, if you catch my drift.

Anyway, I digress–so I call the Bonczar/Hajzus home phone three times (Jaimi is there with my two children at the time) in the attempt to make apologies that I was late in getting home and making immediate arrangements to rectify the situation, assuming (AGAIN–How Supremely Stupid Of You, Jessica) that these are reasonable people that could understand a medical appointment that ran way longer than it should have because of this and that paperwork and releases and registrations and insurance clearances and what not these days–and also the obvious lack of cell service or the capability to use one while inside of an MRI Machine.  Not that it will matter in the least whilst attempting to explain this in court in the future.  Anyway, nobody answers.  I call Jaimi’s cell phone, my mother’s cell phone, and my father’s cell phone.


I call Melvin, who is in town grocery shopping with his ailing mother, apologize profusely, and beg for a ride over to my parent’s house.  He drops me off there.  I try the front door.  Locked.  Well, next is the sliding glass door that used to go to the Bonczar’s garage, but now is a renovated apartment where Jaimi and her part-time son live.  That door is open.  I walk through the roughly thirty feet of the entire apartment, get to the door that leads to the basement of the house that Brenda and Bill live in (Oh–and that I have been told on literally HUNDREDS of occasions in the past that I will ALWAYS be welcome there, Jessica, if you ever need a place to stay.  By the way–this is the apartment that was LITERALLY CONSTRUCTED SPECIFICALLY FOR ME AND MY THREE CHILDREN TO LIVE IN, IN NOVEMBER OF 2013, WHEN I WAS FLEEING AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP WITH PREMATURE NEWBORN TWINS AND SHARED CUSTODY OF MY 4 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER……but… matter.)  Annnnnnywhooooo……where was I?  OH YEAH, so then I walk up the stairs to see Jaimi, rolling her eyes and Oh, my Godding, and snatching the phone and running into the bathroom to call the Bonczar’s Attorney, MR. MATTHEW PARSON, who juuuuuuust so happens to also be an old college flame and current boyfriend that just recently made her pretty wealthy raping her new ex-husband for half of a family home that he had to sell that his dear grandmother died in, as well as child support AND spousal support, since, when they divorced, she wasn’t working, having been unceremoniously fired from her job as a DRUG AND ALCOHOL COUNSELOR BECAUSE SHE WAS STEALING THE DRUGS THAT THE PEOPLE CAME IN WITH.   Oooops.  That reminds me of an aside Jaimi story that I’ll have to post too….ohhhhhhh there are so MANY to choose from….  Where was I?  Oh yeah, so she’s locked in the bathroom with the only phone in the main house, a landline, and cell phones don’t work there.  Cool.  So I’m like, whatever, and play with the boys for a bit in the hopes that one of my parents will get home from work soon so I can take the boys home.  But NNOOOOO WAY.  Not if Her Highness Numbers One And Two have anything to do with it.  So she’s on the phone for over a half an hour with the State Police and Attorney/Boyfriend Matthew Parsons.  Keep in mind that she is my SISTER and has absolutely no legal rights to my children—although she did try to get me to consider adopting them to her and her hubby at the beginning of my pregnancy, because her marriage was so stable and she is obviously the Perfect Picture What Every Mother Should Strive To Emulate—ha!!  The rehab and divorce were the following 2 years.  Annnywhooooo……so when she gets off the phone I literally have to wrest it away from her, while she is shoving me and screaming at me, and this is WHILE I’M HOLDING A TODDLER—and I call first the Potter County Courthouse, who I have been TRYING in vain for several days to get to amend the typo in the current order that gives both FULL PHYSICAL AND LEGAL CUSTODY to my parent’s—even though that is not what the Judge dictated while reading the order in the Courtroom—where I am advised to call the attorney ad litem for the twins, who advises me that since there is nothing in the current order that says that I forfeit my partial custody if something fucking comes up and I am LATE THAT DAY, which happens to EVERYONE ON THE PLANET SOMETIMES—they still have to transport the children to my house, and they can piss and moan about it like impotent jerks to the Judge next time.  I relay this to Jaimi.  Of course she says, no, that’s not what her boyfriend told her, grabs Jaxon, and runs downstairs with him, yelling behind her that if I step one foot inside her apartment to get him, I am trespassing.  (Which begs the question—ISN’T SHE THEN KIDNAPPING??!!)  I am at a loss here.  I’m like, whatever, a real grownup will be here soon enough—I’m not going to traumatize my kids and get myself thrown in jail for giving this woman what she deserves.  NOPE.  WRONG AGAIN, JESS—my mother gets there and does the same thing!!  Literally blocks the apartment door with her body while Jaxon is sitting thirty feet in front of me on Jaimi’s couch while holding the phone above her head.  And—get this—at one point, she sees that I wrote down the boys’ attorney’s cell number on a piece of paper on her counter, and screams, “What’s THIS??!” –as if it’s only okay if THEY call their lawyer that they conveniently have on Speed-Dial-By-Blowjob-Service, and then when I say, “Oh, I need that and it’s confidential,” She literally runs away with it!!  I am holding Henry at the time, and, incredulous, grab at it on her way by me, getting only her sleeve and scratching her wrist with my fingernail in the process—which she screams bloody murder about while waving my attorney’s phone number over her head where I can’t reach it because she’s got a good 5 inches on me.  My brain is only half believing this by this time—I’m like— UMMM….this is the weirdest, most bizarre, childish thing I’ve ever seen a woman in her FIFTIES do.  I actually say to her, like….are you actually TRYING to get me to get into a physical fight with you??  Then it occurs to me—OF COURSE SHE IS!!  If I hurt her, it would be the perfect way to get the boys away from me.  Then I would be the VIOLENT, mentally-ill, alcoholic, drug-addicted, slutty slutty slut slut bad mother…right?  It’s the perfect plan.  Realizing this, I give up on this futile measure, and –they are still holding Jaxon captive at this point—take Henry for a walk up to the top of their dirt road in order to get a cell signal because they STILL refuse to let me use their phone (!!!!).  I call Melvin, tell him to bring car seats, we’re taking the boys to my house right now, consequences be damned—these two bitches can make up shit all day (LIKE—MY MOTHER made up the story—AND TOLD THE ATTORNEY AND THE POLICE THIS AS IF IT WERE A TRUE FACT—that I WAS ACTUALLY HOME when her husband went to drop off my boys, but I was SLEEPING because I was HUNG OVER.  Like—the lies just roll off of her tongue!  And she looks you straight in the face while she tells them!!  Like—EMPHATICALLY!  I’m just…astounded.  I mean—that’s gotta take a loooootta practice.)  and have freaking circle jerks with the cops and dirty lawyers allllllllll day long—WHATEVER.  DO YOUR THING.  BUT IN THE MEANTIME—THIS IS MY TIME TO BE WITH MY FUCKING KIDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My mother then zooms up beside me in her little Subaru, flips open her phone to record what she’s about to say, rolls down the window, and screams gleefully, “YOU HAVE A BABY OUT IN THIRTY-NINE DEGREE WEATHER WITH NO COAT ON, CAN I PUT THE BABY IN THE WARM CAR????!!!!!!!!!”  MmK.  So—the kid is snuggled up RIGHT next to me, he has THREE shirts on, thick pants, socks, and shoes, and we have been outside for a total of 7 minutes.  His nose will not fall off from frostbite.  And this could have been prevented, BITCH, if you would have simply let me use the telephone and/or not been a raving lunatic this whole time and given me my children like the court order says.  I finish my phone call telling Melvin to bring car seats—My MotherBitch claims to only have ONE—like….there are three to four toddlers in your house now at all times ya fuckin’ liar….and I’m SURE Jaimi has one—whatever, strap Henry into the car seat in her car, and say—Thanks for the ride Looney Tune—ya coulda just given me access to your phone….and we drive back down the hill to the house.  After this, my father gets home.  I say, “We’re LEAVING.”  He takes my mother off somewhere for a few minutes—this while I am holding Henry, blocking open the doorway to Jaimi’s apartment so that I can see Jaxon—and shortly after that—we do.  Leave, I mean.

What a fucking fiasco.  I mean—the tragedy is that these people actually think they’re doing the right thing!!!!!

Of course, later, the State Fucking Cops came to my house and charged me with Trespassing, threatening me aggressively, telling me that I am LUCKY that they are ONLY charging me with a misdemeanor (This even WHILE I have Annette Easton on speaker phone saying, listen, I’m sure they’ll just give you a ticket if you explain the situation—NOPE), because they COULD have me fucking arrested and haul me off to jail for FELONY TRESPASSING if they felt like it.  If the wind swayed them that way.  Ya know, if they got the urge to or whatev.  Like it’s nothing!  That they go around purposefully fucking up people’s lives!

He tells me that I have been told NUMEROUS TIMES to NEVER enter Jaimi’s apartment by ALL of the family members in that household……um…..that’s not even close to true.  I have visitation there, her son Cael, LIVES downstairs, so my boys (and me, when I have visitation) and Lilly go up and down the stairs all the time getting this toy or that game or whatever.  Sometimes we have lunch upstairs, sometimes, downstairs….like…..this is news to me dude.  He says he doesn’t believe me, and I’ll be getting paperwork instructing me to get fingerprinted and photographed soon and if I don’t comply, then HE’LL be BACK.  Wtf?

4 thoughts on “An Ode To Judge Judith Sheindlin: Beauty Fades, But DUMB Is Forever.

  1. Ok so I know im just a ghost in all this and I am being a made up person yet here I am commenting with the stitches in my belly laying in my bed while my son is in a different room watching tv and playing on his tablet which in the eyes of the “normal” people has to be wrong. Anyways at times things come up and we are late (sorry) things come up in this world from time to time that we feel we shouldn’t get to be made out the “crazy” person because out children in the hands of “normal” people that will keep them “safe” until we are able to one is able to get to them. Now when my friend shows up to get her children and the caretaker at the time calls the cops and the lawyer/boyfriend to make it look like my friend is the bad person and yells and screams at her in front of her children because she was late due to an appointment…you claim she is “crazy” but the way you act towards her in front of these innocent children (who didn’t ask to be ripped away from their very capable mother) who really is the “crazy” one? I mean come in you have this”beautiful reputation” to hold up in this town yet you repeatedly act like a bunch of morons because she wants to spend her court appointed time with her children. Now seriosuly what all does this do you all act ” crazy” when she comes to get her kids and who do you think this is hurting. Kids see this and the ones being hurt are the children. DO YOU NOT UNSERTAND THAT!!!! THE CHILDREN ARE THE ONES HURT WHEN THEY HAVE TO SEE FAMILY FIGHT AND PUT EACH OTHER DOWN AND CALL NAMES!!! When does it stop? When do all you “normal high class intelligent people” understand that why you are degrading and fighting with their mother and playing keep away that you are hurting the children, that they will remember all this in life, that when they are older and hate you for what you did to their mother who will be the “crazy” ones then? Why don’t you all sleep in that one for a bit and understand that 34 year old mother of 2 boys one that is 15 and one that is 7 is more mature than the “grandparents” ( meaning older than in their 30s) can see what damage you are doing to these CHILDREN not your daughter!!!WHEN DO YOU GROW UP AND REALIZE WHERE THE CRAZY FALLS!!! And let me say it is not these innocent childrens mother IT IS YOU YHE GRANDPARENTS!!!! So maybe you should step down and let the mature not crazy one raise her children…. Oh and just so you know im not a ghost and im not made up I actually went to school with jessica and jamie and I graduated with them. And the only one that I see that IS NOT “crazy” is Jessica. Ok thats all carry on with your day in a mind so warped you are wondering what your next move will be.Oh and 1 last thing I’m going to throw out here. WHO IS IT THAT REALLY NEEDS 302’d????? Have a most wonderfuld day “crazies”

    Liked by 2 people

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