Oh, The War On The Poor–It Never Ends


Welllllllll….first things first, I guess.  The Judge finally “heard” and considered my last plea for Special Relief on both custody cases—and the hearing has been moved up to the 17th of November.  I better get a million subpeona’s out AGAIN.  I also have to fill out a hundred pages of freakin’ “Home Study” paperwork, which is basically, “How much money do you have,” paperwork…which will  not go well for me compared to either the Bonczar’s OR Mike.

Uuuuuuuuuuummmmm….some stupid asshole whose user name on Facebook is LITERALLY named after an alcoholic drink, Marg Arita, tried to shame me about being in a bar when I “complain” that I have no money—HA!  First of all, I’M ALLOWED.  Secondly, you don’t know me, bitch.  And third—simply BEING in a bar does not necessarily mean that one is SPENDING MONEY in a bar, stupid.  And about the freakin’ date with June, where I paid—WAS ACTUALLY IN JUNE, when I DID have money, so suck it, sis, and furthermore—learn how to read, and lastly, find something else to do.  I knew SOMEBODY was going to be a dick about that last post.

Poor people aren’t allowed to have ANY fun, EVER, and deserved to be PUNISHED for being poor in the first place, didn’t you know—they’re LAZY.  This is Amerrcka.  Get a JAWB.

Ugh.  I have a job.  I’m a writer.  And a freakin’ full-time, pro-bono, honorary attorney for MYSELF lately and a MOTHER OF THREE—so go to HELL, MARG.

I guess that’s it for that post.  On to the next.

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