Oh, Holy HELL, What Is That Smell?

The Boy and I have discussed many times that babies will not be birthed by me, especially not if he's the other contributor. He sleeps so hard and will not wake up and I'm pretty sure that, besides working a full time job, being a parent would fall solely on my shoulders. And no. I'm not doing that. If I wanted to be a single mom, I'dda gotten knocked up by one of the hottest men I could find and just never tell him.

So I'm the one who gets up 2 or 3 times a night to let the dogs out. Two out of the three are very old and can't hold it all the way through the night anymore. Yeah, I get a little pissy about being the only one who ever hears anything going on with the dogs or the house or whatever at night, but I'm also quite used to it by now.

At about 4:45am, the dogs were itching to go out. They usually want out way before that, so I was excited that they'd managed to sleep that long. I let them out, then went back to bed, knowing that the oldest and tiniest of the dogs would bark for me to let them back in.

What I heard instead was a huge crashing thud against the back door a few minutes after I laid down. Then it happened again, and the door flew open and my young male Aussie came bounding in, running through the bedroom, and cowered in the bathroom. I was up in a flash, running to check on the other two: my canine soulmate, an 11 year old Aussie female, and the oldest, tiny girl. The littlest dog came running in, slalomed between my legs, and went running for the bedroom. I had just reached the threshold of the door when My Girl came running at me, stopping every so often to rub her face on the grass. She tried to barrel over me at the door, but I put my hands down to stop her. She was slippery, though, and went right through my hands and she was headed for the bedroom. I very quickly figured out why the other dogs were running for cover.

Someone, and I'm not naming names, but someone pissed off a skunk and was then sprayed by that skunk. And then I reached down to stop her and got the skunk juice all over my hands. And now she was headed for the bedroom.

"Boy! I need your help out here! RIGHT NOW!" I screamed, hoping he'd sense the urgency, maybe wake up and smell the stench, and get his lazy ass out of bed to help me.

"What?" he replied, sleepily.

"NOW! I need your help! NOW!"

"OH MY GOD! WHAT IS THAT SMELL?!" He sounded absolutely frantic and very wide awake at that point.

We got her back outside and The Boy hosed her off while I did a quick Internet search and managed to find a recipe of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, and dish soap. I mixed it up and The Boy bathed her in it while I mopped the floor with bleach and water. I sprayed all over the house with some Tactical Odor Eliminator (the kind of crap they use to clean out the backs of patrol cars and jail cells) and quickly realized that it permeated the house as well as the dog.

I cannot describe the amount of discomfort. The Girl hurt herself by scraping her face all over the concrete patio and some areas with grass and gravel in the yard. I think she was more embarrassed than anything else, and I felt kinda sorry for her. But not too much, because the odor is so pungent that I can still TASTE it. (yes, i did indeed say 'taste'.)

Now my yard stinks to high heaven too, and I have no idea how to get rid of the skunk spray that's all in the yard. If the dogs keep going in that corner, they're just going to keep tracking it into the house on their feet and MY GOD I am wondering if I'm going to have to sell the house just to get away from the smell. I could rent an ozone machine, but I don't know what to do about the fish tanks. I guess I can just keep spraying the odor eliminator and maybe it will eventually go away.

I'm panicking because it's not getting much better (it's almost 2pm and i've been airing out the house since 6am) and I have family coming in mid-December. This is just horrible. Even with the doors open, the excess overspray from the skunk is still drifting into the house on occasion. I wonder what my neighbors think, although I'm pretty sure they can SMELL what the problem is.

I went to my dad's and got his Havahart trap. We're going to catch that sumbitch tonight. Only thing is that I have to find a way to get it to the county to have them test it for rabies. I doubt it's rabid, and I'm 99% sure The Girl didn't get bit (kinda hard to tell with all the facial scrapes she gave herself from rubbing), but I plan on dispatching it as soon as we trap it. Kinda sucks to use a Havahart knowing you're going to take out your frustrations on it, but what other choice do we have? That's a rhetorical question, you know.

We can't use other traps because of the unintended target species issue. I don't want to be snapping off the legs of people's cats, possums, or other animals. This way, if I catch anything that isn't a skunk, I can just release it and start over.

Anyway, I'm trying to figure out a way to get to work tomorrow without smelling like I've been sprayed by a skunk. When I went to Gander Mountain to get de-skunk spray, the associate knew exactly what I was there for before I even said anything. And I put on totally new clothes! Grr. Oh well. If nothing else, at least it will keep those wretched fucking students away from me tomorrow...
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Cuddling in the Cutlass

I don't remember how old I was, but I was probably about 14 or so. Two of my friends from a nearby suburb had come to hang out with me and we ended up dropping quite a few too many hits of acid. It was cold outside and I can remember sweating my ass off as we walked the streets, trying to avoid too many people.

Greg and Joey were there names. Greg was an 18-year old whose father had thrown him out of the house recently and he was basically living in his car. The benefit for Greg was, though, that his father went out of town on business often and had not changed the locks on the house. His father was currently out of the country, which was good for Greg; it was freezing cold outside. Seriously. It was icy.

Joey wasn't in much better shape. His mother was totally uninvolved in his raising and left it entirely up to his stepfather, who was a complete tyrant. I went over there one time and had to leave because of all the yelling. I was embarrassed for Joey, who really hadn't done anything wrong, but I don't think the stepfather wanted him around. Joey did everything he could to stay away from home as often as possible, and I don't blame him.

We were a group of three misfits whose only solace in life was to alter our reality. Sure, we had other choices, we just didn't take them. So on this particular night, we had split half a sheet of acid between the 3 of us and were out walking the streets. Eventually, somebody got hungry (it wasn't me), and we ended up at this ghetto-ass Denny's. Being around the public when you're tripping your ass off is never a good idea but, once again, this was something I'd never quite learned how to do.

We were in a booth, but I remember this guy sitting at the bar. He was in a green woolen sport coat and he was really old. He was wearing a matching green bowler hat. I could only see his face quartering away, but his nose was long and pointy and I could see it sticking out from behind his cheekbone. I swear, he looked like a leprechaun. It was all I could do to keep from laughing. Of course, I did laugh, but I tried really hard not to be too loud about it.

So, there we were, in a Denny's in the bad part of town, tripping on way too many hits of acid, sitting across the restaurant from a leprechaun.

And we didn't even eat 99% of our food. I had water and that was it. The guys ordered these huge breakfasts and ate hardly any. And so we walked out into the chilly night, crawled into Greg's 1987 Olds Cutlass, and drove back to my house. That link shows you what it looked like - that's not him!

We drove around for awhile, then parked in my driveway. I was exhausted. The acid was starting to wear off and I was beat down. I bid them adieu and went inside to lay down.

It was about 5am when my father burst into my room, screaming. "Why are you bringing faggots over to my house?!"

Since I hadn't really slept anyway, I got up and followed my father outside. He put on his jacket and thrust mine into my face. "Put it on! Follow me!"

We went outside and, in the driveway, was Greg's Cutlass. The engine was off, and the windows were fogged up except for part of the windshield. My dad merely pointed and said, "There!"

I peered in through the tiny clear spot in the windshield and saw Greg and Joey spooning in the back seat! You could see Greg's faded green mohawk poking out from under a flight jacket emblazoned with Chaos UK, Subhumans, and Exploited patches. Joey's little rat face was sticking out from under the side of the jacket - it was quite obvious there were two people under that coat.

I thought about lying to my father for one second, and telling him that Greg's mohawk belonged to a girl, but figured he'd just bust me anyway. That would have been easiest, but I told him the truth.

"Dad, they're not fags. They're very hetero, just total losers and no girls will date them. It's not a big deal - they were probably just too tired to drive back home and it's really freakin' cold out here."

"I don't care what the reason is. Get those faggots out of here!" With that, he stomped back into the house and slammed the door.

I opened the passenger door and a rush of warm, rank air hit me in the face. Those two punk boys were never big on hygiene. I woke them up and told them what had just happened. They admitted they were too fucked up to go home and were just trying to get comfortable. They conceded, though, and drove to the church parking lot down the street from my parents' house and I went back inside.

My father was quite upset with me for a few days, even though he refused to listen to my reasoning. I never saw Greg after that and I never did figure out what happened to him. Joey said Greg dropped him off at home, and then Greg was going to his own house. That was the last we heard from him.

I recently saw Joey in a picture one of my friends posted on MySpace. I hadn't thought about that kid at all except for this one particular memory that came up on occasion. I've thought about asking the poster what's going on with him...
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Scott Status

Ugh. I didn't want to write about this, really, but a few people have asked me what's going on with Scott, so I figured y'all probably do deserve an update. I know I've been evasive.

We continued to talk. He got the CD and decided that I must indeed love him. He insisted on telling me that every time we talked and when we hung up. He would get mad at me if I didn't say it back, so I started. Just because.

Let me be perfectly honest here: I was totally digging the attention, but I knew I could never let it go anywhere. I am not even remotely in love with him and, frankly, I don't even love him as a person. I just said it to give him just a little bit more. I still feel the remnants of the feelings I used to have for him, but that was for a relationship that was all a lie and for a man I apparently didn't really know.

Yeah, I guess you could say I began stringing him along.

And myself, too, because I suppose I just wanted to see how far he would take it, to see how much I could get from him, to see what he'd give. I just can't resist being adored, or the attention, and that's kinda all it takes to get me to respond.

So I continued to call him each day when I got out of work, and we'd still text into the evening. We made plans to get together on the weekend sometime but, as y'all know, I've been busy. He was getting frustrated because I wouldn't just drop everything when he'd decide to take a day off or whatever.

But he still continued to "disappear." Long, unexplained periods of non-communication, and then he'd reappear with little to no fanfare. Sometimes he'd say he had a headache and went to bed early, sometimes he'd say he took his son out to eat and left his phone at home...always an excuse.

Hmm. All seems a bit familiar. I've been down this road before. He admitted that he was still married, but I'm 90% sure that, even if she was living somewhere else, that she came back to the house. Based on his pattern of disappearing and reappearing, he was ignoring my texts after she got home from work, and picked them back up while she was in the shower or went to bed. Usually, I was already in bed too by the time he started returning my texts. I could set my watch by how it happened, too.

So I continued playing along. I mean, hell...what else do I have to do?

I'll be truthful about this part, too. I desperately wanted him to give me a reason to trust him. I wanted him to go out of his way to prove to me that I could try it again with him and not be crushed. I wanted to believe that I was all he'd ever wanted. So I gave him the chances.

So, last weekend, he said he wanted to come down and spend Saturday with me, cruising Galveston. I told him Saturday wasn't going to work, because I was going to have brunch with my grandfather, Mom, and The Boy. I explained that I haven't been talking to my granddad nearly as much since school started, and this brunch was a necessity and non-negotiable. He tried to talk me out of it, but I wasn't going to change my plans for him, of course. Not when my family's involved.

So eventually, Friday night, he said he would come down on Sunday and we could get together. I told him we needed to plan out how we were going to do it, and he said okay. Everything was all lovey-dovey and gooey, and I figured everything was fine.

But then on Saturday, when I was texting him, he was ignoring me. Eventually he sent one back, saying something rude about me standing him up. It all kind of went downhill from there, and I made a snide comment about how everything is always all about him, and that if he really wanted to see me, he'd work WITH my schedule, instead of expecting me to drop everything.

And then I didn't really say anything to him until Wednesday. I knew he had the day off, so I sent him a few texts. Nothing. Then he sent something about how I make it too hard, that he just doesn't have it in him to try and that he just can't do it.

I basically told him that was probably why none of his relationships ever work: because it DOES take work. I wished him luck with the toothless, inbred gold-diggers up there in East Texas and reminded him that if he ever wanted a real woman who was more than just a warm hole, he could call.

But then he wanted to continue on with the BS. So it became this back-and-forth thing where he tried to tell me that I was too high-maintenance and I expected too much out of him, and that he tried all he possibly knew how to and so on.

I reminded him that he had done absolutely nothing except buy me lunch one time, disappear, not return phone calls, and refused to take me into consideration when trying to schedule meet-ups. That certainly doesn't equal "all he possibly knew how to." I guess I was a little mean, and that's okay. He kept trying to keep it open to future interactions and I basically told him, "You think you know me. You don't. I've got 10 years of improvement under my belt since last we spoke. The difference between the old Stillie and the newer Stillie is that I don't need a man. You just can't be alone, which is why you've cheated on every woman you've been with. I don't need you or your childish games. I'm better off without you, that's for sure."

I ended up saying something about "at least The Boy's trying to save our relationship, and I need to be party to that," or something to that effect. I got back a text that said, "A-HA! I knew The Boy was the reason you were holding back!"

I said, "No, Scott. I was holding back because I don't trust you and I'm not going to ditch my entire life for you, after you waltzed back in a month ago."

We finally ended all of it the other day when he said something about "that's okay. next time i'm down in your town, we can still go grab a steak, right? your friend, scott."

I told him to shove it, that he wasn't my friend and if he had the urge to contact me again in another 10 years, to lose that idea. So he said, "Fine. I will lose your number. Good bye forever A****."

Finally. I'm through with these stupid, childish games, I thought. But then, I log on my Facebook today to accept a friend request, and what do I see there? A final, pathetic attempt at a jab at me. "Now I know why I left 10 years ago," he says.

Oh, whatever. He left because he was a liar and a cheater and I caught him and literally ran his ass out of town. He did it again this time because I didn't fall at his feet, give in to him, and give him a way out of his current situation.

His wishy-washy attitude was driving me crazy. One minute he'd be all "how's my baby this morning?" and calling me his girlfriend and shit. Then he'd say shit like, "That's okay if you don't want to come up here today. I 'll just leave you alone, then. Good bye A****..." and do that passive-aggressive bull.

First off, I don't like people making decisions like that for me. Don't tell me I won't like something, or that it's not good enough for me, or whatever. I have a mind. I can use it. I'll decide what I do and don't want, thanks.

He said he had petitioned for divorce and that he had a lawyer. He told me he was legally separated. Well, that's a lie, because there is no such thing as "legal separation" in the state of Texas. He knows I went through a divorce! Why would he try to lie about shit when I know the truth?! And he went on to say that he wasn't sure if the lawyer had filed or not, that he didn't know if she was going to be served, and so on. He refused to talk about specifics of the petition because he said all he wanted was to keep his house, his cars, and his business. She could have all the rest - he didn't care. He just wanted it over with. All of it was a lie. If she really did cheat on him, wreck his Vette in a drunken stupor, and move out of his house and into another man's house, am I really expected to believe that he's not going to outline specifics in the petition or even know its current status? If she fucked him over that hard, would he really just let her have everything? FUCK NO. My ex husband didn't even cheat on me, and I stripped him of every thing I possibly could. I debilitated him in every possible way. No way would Scott just roll over and let her ruin him. His first wife did that. He wouldn't let it happen again.

I eventually came to realize that Scott came up with every excuse in the book to run away. He wanted me to chase him, to beg him, to tell him how much I wanted him and needed him. Not once did I ever say stuff like that. When he realized that I wasn't the co-dependent, weak, and incapable person I used to be, he realized he couldn't lie to me and get away with it. He knew I wouldn't let him use me as a doormat. All of a sudden, that wasn't quite as attractive to him anymore.

If I really wanted to fuck up his life, I could totally do it. I have his wife's parents' numbers, her brother's, and I found both his daughter's and his son's email addresses. I could make it so that his life would be a living hell for awhile. I'm vindictive. So why am I not doing it? Because I just don't give enough of a shit.

Part of me wants to. I mean, I can keep sending letters and eventually someone besides him will get it out of the mailbox. But why? He's miserable, living a jacked up life of his own creation, and he'll continue to suffer because he's a dishonest adulterer. He's a liar. He hasn't changed one bit and he will suffer the consequences of that.

And then, just a few days ago, I got a text from him that said, "Hi baby." And he just started all over again. He's been texting me all evening, talking about how he's sitting in his chair with Pup-Pup, crying, listening to the CD I made him because it's just all so true, and he can't live without me and he needs me now.

HE'S MADDENING AND I WANT IT TO EITHER STOP OR NOT. I hate wishy-washy people.

So that's where we're at right now. And there's no chance of seeing him this weekend; it's The Boy's birthday. I'm off all next week and don't have to go back to work until November 30th. Of course, Scott's off all next week too, so we'll see if he tries to weasel his way down here to see me. I keep telling him that actions speak louder, so if he really loves me, he'll prove it by doing instead of just saying and not doing. *snorts* It's so funny to fuck with this guy, because I know he's sitting there reading that going, "Damn. I don't want to have to try at anything..."

I shall let y'all know how it goes...
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