badbadzoot's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- the asshole dad story, with a little mushy extra so here goes! The Story of My Dad, The A$$hole. This is a little long, so sit back and relax. It may be a nice time to take a potty break... I've always known my dad was a real butthead. Since I was 12 years old, I knew my dad was immature and selfish, and I also kind of knew he would never change. It's been 13 years, and he hasn't changed yet. Just a little backstory: I have two brothers, an Older Bro- 28, and a Little Bro- 22. My parents divorced when I was 11 years old. I'm glad they did too, it was for everyone's happiness. Unfortunately, my dad is still pretty bitter about it all. Since my parents divorced when us kids were still pretty young, we didn't realize or remember the extent of our father's stupidity. As I got older, my mom would tell me stories of how dad would always overdraft the bank account, and not pay bills, which resulted in electricity being turned off and us getting kicked out of two apartments. I do remember as a young child having to light candles because the electricity was out, but I can't remember if it was because of a storm, or because my dad didn't pay the bill. Anyways, when Older Bro was in his early 20's, he learned the extent of my father's stupidity by living with him for a while in South Carolina. Older Bro then quickly moved to California with a buddy. I'm not sure what happened, but Older Bro was pretty fed up with dad. Then it was my turn. When I was 19 years old, living on my own (in a very cool apartment, I loved it, I had an attic all to myself!) my dad was divorcing his second wife and moving back to Buffalo, NY from South Carolina. (I wasn't actually living in Buffalo, but about 20 miles away) He needed somewhere to stash his stuff until he found his own place (he was going to live with Rich Grandma for a while). I agreed that he could stash his stuff in my attic. Some months later, I got really REALLY sick with the Crohn's Disease and moved to North Carolina to be with mom. Which meant dad had to get his stuff out of the attic. He obliged, but wasn't too happy about it. I guess he didn't have a place to put his crap. While moving his stuff, he noticed that the shade (a glass shade) had broken off his floor lamp. I had NO idea how that happened. No one had been in the attic since he put his stuff up there. And the weird thing is that the lamp was standing upright when we first got up there to start moving junk. The only explanations I had was that: 1- a crazed squirrel tried to climb atop it and knocked it down (but how did the lamp stay upright?) ... yes, squirrels run rampant in that attic. 2- my shady landlord helped himself into my apartment and my attic for some weird reason, knocked it over and didn't say anything to me. I say #2. But my dad was a little upset. He didn't yell at me or anything like that, it's just one of those things that you can just tell when a loved one is pissed off. So yeah, I guess he thought it was my fault, but whatever. And that experience isn't as extreme as the one my Little Bro just had. Dad, Little Bro and Older Bro live with Uncle and Aunt near Washington DC. Older Bro just moved down there this past July from Buffalo. Little Bro and Dad moved there from Richmond about a year ago. Now the lot has found a townhome they are going to rent just a short distance from Uncle and Aunt. Little Bro calls mom to tell her this and mom inquires about all the stuff they left at their old apartment in Richmond. Because after they moved to D.C., dad and Little Bro left all their stuff at the aparment because dad signed a lease, and after the lease was up dad said he would get their stuff. All they took with them to D.C. is clothes and televisions and any other valuable items (Little Bro's playstation). Amongst the valuable items that Little Bro DID NOT take with him was a painting that my mom let him keep for a while. It has nostalgic value. The painting belonged to my Nana, my mother's mother, an old boyfriend had painted it for Nana. It was of a clown looking sad sitting on a stool with an orange butterfly off in a corner. The clown was the boyfriend, and the butterfly was my Nana. Essentially, the boyfriend was saying that my Nana was too good for him. Heck, she was too good for anyone- she was one special gal... Moving forward: there was a little "skirmish" between my mom and her brother-in-law about who was getting that painting after Nana died. It was a friendly fight, and after Nana died, my uncle let my mom have it. Little Bro loved it, so after he finally moved out of the house, mom let him "have" it. At the time I lightly chastised her for "giving" it to him because she had wanted it so bad. But you know how moms can be. She was just being mom and was only going to let him keep it for a while. After some months of living in D.C., Little Bro had inquired dad about the apartment and their stuff. Dad said not to worry. Then Little Bro dislocated his jaw (and NO, he didn't have insurance, tsk tsk tsk). Dad told Little Bro not to worry about the hospital bill either. So Little Bro didn't. One fine day, while watching t.v. in dad's bedroom, Little Bro noticed a piece of mail on the side table that was addressed to him. So he opened it. It was from a creditor for $1600!!!! SIXTEEN HUNDRED DOLLARS! Little Bro was beside himself. He didn't understand. The bill was from the apartment. Turns out dad had NOT been paying the rent. AND! Dad had Little Bro's name put on the lease! So the apartment was going after Little Bro for back rent!!! AND LITTLE BRO HAD ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA! Little Bro ALSO found a hospital bill! FOR FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS! That was dated three months prior!!! Little Bro took the bills to Uncle and Aunt, and they both had a nice sit-down about what was going on. Uncle and Aunt REAMED dad about RUINING HIS FRIGGIN SON'S CREDIT!! Good golly! The boy is only 22 and now his credit is bad! Little Bro got a hold of the landlady and was telling her what went on and what happened. The landlady was really nice about it and apologized. She said she had tried to get a hold of dad, but he wouldn't return her calls. Figures. Landlady had also told Little Bro that since dad didn't return her calls, and she needed to rent the place out, that she got rid of all their stuff. I mean, GOT. RID. OF. IT. That boy had a huge 4-inch thick notebook of baseball, football, and hockey cards, and comic heroe cards. And needless to say, the painting. It was gone. GONE. It could be anywhere. Maybe at the Goodwill, The Salvation Army, maybe even the trash. My mom was heartbroken, my heart is a little broken too. Little bro was hesitant to tell mom because the painting was so special and he knew she would be upset and it hurt him. But mom is okay, she is totally pissed at dad, but she's not mad at Little Bro. There's no reason to be. I'm totally pissed at dad too. I mean, this is over the edge here. And now they are going to rent a townhouse together. Older Bro and Little Bro settled it that only their names are on the lease and that dad pays them cash for the rent. That is sad. Truly, truly sad. Little Bro said that if it wasn't for Older Bro being there, that he would stay with Uncle and Aunt and go to school. WHICH HE SHOULD DO REGARDLESS. But, Little Bro is allowed to do whatever he wants. Mom told me this story, and she told me not to go beserk on Little Bro. I was shocked! Yes, I have a temper, especially with Little Bro. But I'm older, and wiser, I told her that I would not. This is something Little Bro has to deal with. And I'm sure he's dealing with enough that he doesn't need little ol' me breathing down his neck. To be honest, I haven't talked to my brothers since they drunk-called me. Oh well. It's alright. I'm over it. I love them, and I know they love me and want the best for me. I even love my dad. I always will, but man, I wish he'd grow up. I'm still upset about the lost painting. You need to understand, my Nana was loved very, very much. She was a wonderful woman. She was an artist, all six of her kids are artistically inclined, and all 15 of her grandchildren (including me!) are influenced by art. Whenver I look at a piece of art, I think of my Nana. Whenever I look at something hideously ugly I think of Nana. AND IT'S NOT BECAUSE MY NANA WAS UGLY! ha ha. She was beautiful, it's just that she had pity for people and things that weren't pretty in society's eyes. She took in the outcasts, the loners, the things that no one else wanted, she took it. Because saw beauty in everything. And every day I try to be like her and see beauty in everything. I miss my Nana. Just thinking about her brings tears to my eyes. The painting is really nothing, she didn't even paint it, but it reminded us all of what she was. A beautiful orange butterfly. Orange was her favorite color, and she was someone that not even her family could catch her.... RANDOM FACT ABOUT ZOOT: 10:16 a.m. - 2006-01-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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