Archive for the true crime Category

Post #158 -The Oddest, Coolest Mother’s Day Gift Ever

Posted in art, blogging, comedy, Family, Freelancing, humor, life, marriage, memoir, people, relationships, true crime, true stories, Uncategorized, work, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 6, 2016 by tenaciousbitch

Those of you who know me IRL (in real life), you’re aware that I’m weird. And that such is an adjective I wear proudly. So, it won’t surprise you to know that my husband gave me a very strange gift for Mother’s Day, one that I absolutely love. However, I can’t think of one woman on earth besides me who would’ve shrieked with joy as I did when I opened it.

Obviously, it wasn’t flowers or jewelry or an expensive pair of shoes or a gift card from my favorite retailer and the like. Though, honestly, I would’ve been perfectly happy with any of the above.

So? What is it, you ask? A 6-foot alligator? No. I prefer my gifts aren’t of the man/woman – eating kind.

Was it some sort of unconventional kitchen gadget like a knife sharpener?

No…it was…

Wait for it…..

Wait for it…

Here’s a photo of the box.

BOX - STUN GUN

Does that give you any ideas? 🙂 For all the ladies and gents out there who might’ve been to a gun store, the box might be a dead give away.

Otherwise, for  the many folks who’ve never been to a retail outlet that sells weaponry…you may not even know what it is by viewing the item itself below….

BOX AND STUN GUN

Yes, it is, in fact a STUN GUN!!! 🙂 And don’t you LOVE the fact that it’s pink? 🙂

Though I live in a very low-crime area, I wanted a stun gun because I’ve been selling my artwork (i.e. fine art photography, decoupaged coasters, hand painted vases, etc.) at various flea markets and art shows since last summer. When I had a booth over the winter at a flea market in a somewhat shabby area, I saw a man arguing with a woman in the parking lot, and he struck her so hard in the face, she almost fell down. I called the police who FINALLY showed up about 20 minutes later. And what kills me about that is – that flea market is a mile from Easton Mall/a very EXPENSIVE area to live/work, etc.

Obviously, violent crime can happen anywhere, so you never know when I might actually have an occasion to use this handy gadget in my own home.

Additionally, the outdoor flea market I’ve been going to since March is frequented by more men than women. And sometimes as I’m packing up my artwork and boxes of household items I’ve also been trying to sell (inherited from my mother/other relatives), there might only be a couple other vendors left. There are no security guards or anything, and occasionally, I meet a vendor who just evokes that vibe that he’s probably seen his share of time “inside” a local prison.

Once in awhile a male vendor or a customer will hit on me, and I’m always polite when replying that I’m happily married and not interested in cheating on my spouse. But you never know when one of those guys might take offense and turn an innocent situation into something ugly.

That said, I LOVE MY STUN GUN. And it’s all charged and ready to go, so be warned all lecherous, less-than-honorable men who might consider getting aggressive with me cuz this chick is PACKIN’, and I won’t hesitate to STUN the hair right off your  balz! 🙂

Peace out –

~Tenacious Bitch and her band of truth spouting hippies

P.S. If you’d like to do a girl a solid (and want to help me garner some more cash to GO SEE NANA – and btw, Nana is now 99 years old), feel free to check out my online store with most of my artwork and such at:

https://www.etsy.com/shop/TenaciousImages

 

#134 – Time to Go To Prison~Again!

Posted in college, Family, family battles, family drama, friends, marriage, memoir, Motherhood, nonfiction, parenting, relationships, true crime, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 2, 2014 by tenaciousbitch

My son Rory’s first DUI occurred when he was 21, not long after he got married. He was working at Chase bank, and he’d been partying with some friends one night and fell asleep at the wheel and crashed into a tree. No one was injured, thank God. All of which happened in Upper Arlington, a very ritzy, old money suburb not far from Ohio State University.

He couldn’t remember who was in the vehicle with him. However, his unnamed drinking buddies were seen scattering into the darkness when the police arrived.

Apparently, not only had he thrown back quite a few cocktails, he’d probably taken double the recommended dosage of Dexedrine, his ADD medication, and he’d been awake for around 36 hours straight. So, yeah, he was a mess. And he shouldn’t have been anywhere near a car.

Long story short, he was shuffled off to the drunk tank downtown and was later sentenced to six months probation and attending some sort of group therapy. Rory hadn’t augmented his Dexedrine intake to get high. He did it to increase his productivity and stay awake longer in order to get more accomplished – because he’s always been an overachiever.

Besides his job at Chase, he started moonlighting at Victory’s bar and restaurant downtown after Lacey lost her full-time job at a bakery. They had accumulated a massive credit card debt, and he was attempting to stave off foreclosure on their house. Lacey was unemployed for six months and had just started working part-time as a receptionist at Mt. Carmel hospital when he’d gotten the first DUI.

Three or four months later, he was out drinking and decided to give Kim, a co-worker at Victory’s, a ride home.  According to his friends, she was rather inebriated.

Kim didn’t doze off en route to her apartment as expected. No, she attempted to seduce him. Fending off her her advances caused him to swerve into the opposite lane where, thank heaven, there wasn’t an oncoming car. But a cop just happened to be right behind him.

Yeah, he was totally fucked.

On the advice of a friend/attorney who handles a lot of DUI’s, Rory refused the breathalyzer. But, apparently, when he passed the field sobriety test, the cop didn’t believe he was sober. So, the officer snuck up behind him, popped the breathalyzer in his mouth and told him to “blow”.

His blood-alcohol level was high enough for an arrest, but if I’d known how the cop had obtained his probable cause, I would’ve helped Rory prepare a Motion to Dismiss since all the evidence against him was fruit of the poisoned tree nullifying the policeman’s probable cause.

It might not’ve have been a Supreme Court-worthy document, but having been a paralegal for almost 7 years, I think it would’ve sufficed for a Pro Se defendant.

It might’ve eliminated or at least truncated Rory’s 2nd turn in County. Either way, worst case scenario – the judge could’ve denied the Motion to Dismiss. No harm. No foul. But I didn’t know what the police officer had done until a few days ago when I asked Rory about the specifics of his arrests to confirm all the details.

He pled guilty to the 2nd DUI because he couldn’t afford an attorney. He was sentenced to 5 days in lockup for violating his probation in the Upper Arlington case, and 5 days for the 2nd DUI.

Additionally, he lost his driver’s license for 2 years. However, at least the judge was kind enough to allow Rory to serve his time on his days’ off so that he wouldn’t lose his job. And since he was on flex time, his days’ off varied.

Rory’s 2nd prison term began in mid-summer. He had moved back home temporarily because he and Lacey were separated. (They divorced about a year later).  Since he didn’t have a driver’s license, I drove him to the corrections facility, which was only 4 miles away from our house.

I didn’t mind providing transportation. Plus, I could make sure he clocked in at at 9 a.m. sharp as required by his sentencing agreement. I was concerned he’d be late or not show up at all because he’d started drinking even more after he and Lacey split up. I knew that if he was a no-show, he could get thrown in the clink for 3 months to a year.

So, I’m sure you can guess what happened next. One particular morning in August, I got  up to take Rory to serve his time, and he wasn’t sleeping peacefully in his room. He wasn’t steeped in Jameson, dead to the world, on our couch downstairs in front of the TV. He was nowhere to be found.

I called and texted him a dozen times, but all I got was his voicemail and no reply to my texts. I texted every single friend of his whose contact info was on my cellular Rolodex. No one had heard from him, and none of his friends had a reason to lie, especially given the severity of the situation.

Finally at 9:45, I decided to toss out a Hail Mary. I suspected Rory might’ve spent the night with Lacey because he’d been talking to her a lot on the phone lately. She and I have a rocky history because I never wanted Rory to marry her. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a beautiful girl, and she can be extremely sweet when she wants to be. But I just didn’t think either of them was ready for marriage since he was barely 21 and she 22.

I also didn’t think they were a good match. He’s very serious and intellectual, and Lacey is not. And as I feared, they split up eight months into their marriage.

Therefore, it was a delicate proposition to contact Lacey. God forbid, I didn’t wanna call and wake her up unnecessarily since she works night or embarrass her if she happened to be with another guy. So, I chose a different route.

I called Rory’s friend, Nelson, who is probably Rory’s most responsible friend. By the time Nelson was 21, he’d already completed his BA in automotive technology from Ohio State. He works at a local Chevy dealership, and he’s got his own side business repairing/restoring old muscle cars. Yeah, I like Nelson. He’s a good egg.

So, I explained Rory’s incarceration dilemma and asked Nelson to contact Lacey. Not ten minutes later, he texted me confirming that Rory was at Lacey’s apartment somewhere downtown. I took a deep breath and dialed Lacey’s number.

“He got another DUI?” Lacey gasped.

Score another fuck up for me. Sorry, Dude, I thought to myself, didn’t mean to turn up the temp on the hot water you’re swimming in, Rory, but it ain’t my fault.

“Yeah, right after my Dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer, Rory, got a DUI downtown,” I explained. “Is he with you?”

Long pause.

“Look, Lacey…” I began in an apologetic tone while looking at my watch. “He was supposed to be at the jail an hour ago. Is he there?”

“I see,” Lacey sputtered. “Thanks for letting me know.” And she hung up.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

***

The conclusion to this story will be in my upcoming book – Tales From the Lunatic Lounge – which I hope to finish in a couple of months wherein you can read all the dirt on Rory’s last stint in the pokey! 🙂

And if you’re searching for some summer reads, check out my list of favorite books at:

https://tenaciousbitch.com/my-favorite-books/

Over and out-

~TenaciousBitch and her band of truth-spouting hippies

Tenacious Bitch © 2014

 

Post #119 Death to Anthem Insurance and Leo Pharma!

Posted in beer, Family, fashion, humor, memoir, mysteries, nonfiction, relationships, true crime, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 29, 2013 by tenaciousbitch

Unfortunately, I have psoriasis, which itches and burns so badly it is often painful to wear pants and sometimes even SHOES . For those who might be unfamiliar with this medical malady, psoriasis is an autoimmune disease that causes an overproduction of skin cells that, unfortunately looks like a cross between measles and leprosy, which can often lay dormant for years even decades, which my doctor cannot explain nor predict (sigh).

It’s not pleasant, nor is it pretty. Sometimes though it is often fueled by stress.  However, my stress level has been astronomically better since Nana moved into a nursing home (see https://tenaciousbitch.com/2013/06/28/still-unhappy-but-there-is-a-dog-named-sue/  as to why my beloved Grandmother is such a pill).

The ONLY treatment that helps is a topical prescription called Taclonex, which I’ve been using for almost ten years. Originally, it cost around $500, which is a lot for a 100-gram tube of ointment. However, my co-pay was around $35, so I could live with that.

Oh, but that’s not the American way, is it? A mere 80% markup isn’t enough these days.  CEOs can’t really buy a new jet every year on that, can they? Leo Pharmaceuticals might not make the HOTTEST toy this Christmas that every 12-year-old clamors for, however, Leo borrowed the same marketing principles of supply and demand and used them to a very ugly end.

Once Leo Pharm realized that their ointment is the ONLY product that actually gets rid of psoriasis for people with chronic cases (though only short-lived for me), they acted just like your average street corner drug dealer peddling smack by jacking up the price like nobody’s business because they KNEW those of us who have this disease would be REALLY JONESING for more – because it’s so painful.

And additionally, for the first time in 15 years, I experienced being spot free, and I could WEAR SHORTS IN PUBLIC the entire summer here in Ohio when the temps often exceed 90 degrees (around 30 Celsius for my friends abroad). Until this product came along, I often had to go out to dinner on a HOT summer night (say around 80 degrees) wearing jeans because, otherwise, the hostess at the restaurant might notice the red splotches on my skin and ask if I have chicken pox?!! The vitamin D in the sun’s rays helps so tanning salons and sunbathing are an option but NOT a cure.

In the WINTER it gets much worse, so, of course, now I can’t afford the co-pay, which I’ll get to in a minute. And check this out…the recommended dosage from my doctor is 100 grams/week, but the price has escalated so high, my insurance (ANTHEM and most insurances) will only pay for 100 GRAMS/MONTH.

This is what’s wrong with our insurance and healthcare system in America. You have to destroy the capitalism within the system before anything improves. I hate to say that because I grew up in a houseful of Republicans, but it’s true. Capitalism does NOT belong in healthcare but the prickly part is how to remove it. But no one’s talking about or even suggesting such, and this is why OBAMAcare will fail. No, I’m not a communist or a fascist. But the free enterprise model of economics is awesome = except when it comes to healthcare. and I just want medical treatment that VISA isn’t going to SUE ME FOR if I can’t pay for it somewhere down the road, capiche?

In that, I’m not advocating Socialism for the entire country, but with capitalism running rampant within the healthcare system, you can’t try to impose a socialist idea like healthcare for everyone – damned the cost because the system is run by a huge network of greedy bastards who are still going to charge $40 for an aspirin in every hospital in America or $500 for a prescription that cost $80 to make (i.e. Talconex, but now it’s WAY more than that)…And all the folks in Washington seem to be doing is finger pointing. And oh, bloody hell that does a lot of good, does it not?

But politics aside, Leo Pharm and Anthem Insurance are the bad guys here. In that, when Anthem increased my co-pay to $598 for Taclonex in July, I called them. No, I’m not JOKING – FIVE HUNDRED, NINETY-8 DOLLARS! And this product doesn’t cure cancer! It doesn’t heal a hole in one’s heart!! It gets rid of a fucking RASH.

Anyway, Anthem gave me the spiderweb of runarounds. So, I charged the prescription to my credit card in July and August because I was miserable. Then, in September – it was still $598. I wasn’t going to buy any, in October, but my feet bled every time I wore shoes. I called them AGAIN about the $598 copay, and they said my doc needed to call in a Pre-Authorization before they would reduce the copay to $448! Are you fucking SERIOUS? But NO ONE had mentioned this before, and I thought -having danced on this fucking merry-go-round for years – that a Pre-Auth had already been done.

And the whole Pre-Authorization bullshit is a scam anyway if you’ve not had the pleasure of trolling through this corporate quagmire yet. HELLO, If my doctor didn’t think this drug was medically necessary, why the FUCK would she prescribe it? As if my doc just prescribed it just for kicks – just to scribble words on a page. Au contraire, in reality, a pre-authorization requirement is merely a tactic to DELAY the insurance company’s responsibility in paying for the prescription in the hope that the consumer/patient will not want to bother jumping through the WAY TOO MANY hoops required for people just trying to acquire the medical products/services they obviously need.

Anywho, my doctor’s office called Anthem. At which point, they said NO PRE-AUTHORIZATION IS NEEDED. Oh, my FUCKING GOD!!!  Can you say RED TAPE AT ITS FINEST?! I was mute with shock! The nurse kept talking about other scripts I’d tried that didn’t work, and all I could think of was that Athem and Leo were bending me over, and I was now powerless to do anything about it.

And that’s the thing that really gets me by the throat. All these fucking marketing gurus and CEO’S live to bleed as much fucking money they can from the average consumer without one single thought about the consequences to us, their bread and butter.  Everyone has to make a profit and pay their bills, but I do believe by now Leo Pharm has accrued its pot of gold by raising their price every goddamned year. 

So, the nurse called in another prescription. It didn’t do shit. So, I crunched the bullet and paid the fucking $448 for the Taclonex. I don’t know why it wasn’t $598. Maybe, an elf voo-dooed the computer, LOL. I didn’t ask. I just went WEE WEE WEE all the way home before the computer could change its mind! 🙂

However, the thing is – Leo Pharm is losing their patent, which means every Tom, Dickhead and Harry in the pharmaceutical world can produce this wonder drug at a fraction of the cost. So, Leo Pharm only has so much time to EXTORT additional money from their consumers before this particular cash cow is put out to pasture…

My pharmacist, God Bless him, was so sympathetic, that he searched high and low for an online coupon. He found one, but it was for the wrong prescription, and get this…they emailed me (Leo Pharm) actually WELCOMING ME to the Leo Family when this coupon card was activated! Isn’t that sweet…and check out my reply…

From: [mailto: kennedysmith@XXXXXX.com]
Sent: Wednesday, October 23, 2013 3:38 PM
To: ‘JXXXGruberon@LeoP.com’
Subject: RE: Letter from LEO Pharma Inc

Thanks, but that discount card was activated in error. My doctor didn’t prescribe Talclonex Topical Suspension. She prescribed the Taclonex Ointment, so I couldn’t use the discount card mentioned in the letter attached.

And furthermore, I really HATE, despise and LOATHE your company for charging more than $1500 for Taclonex, when a stronger version of the very same product ALSO manufactured by Leo Pharmaceuticals is less than $300 in Canada for 20% MORE of the damned ointment!

I hope your CEO and the majority stockholders at Leo are enjoying their new yachts or new Mercedes they’re able to afford with the outrageous $598 co-pay I’ve been forced to charge to my Visa the last couple of months. And I so love adding to my ever-mounting credit card debt for medical expenses – especially due to the fact that I’ve been unemployed for most of the last 2 years.

I’ve heard that Leo will be losing the original patent on Taclonex in about a year, and I will be drinking champagne and clicking up my heels that day—unless my psoriasis is so bad that I can’t wear shoes, much less click my heels.

So, fuck you and your goddamned USELESS discount!!!

A very unhappy customer.

TENACIOUS BITCH

otherwise known as KENNEDY SMITH

Columbus, Ohio

US FUCKING A

________________________________________________________

I feel really bad that I verbally accosted the woman who sent me this form email, but I was livid, and I’ve mentioned my horrendous temper (i.e. https://tenaciousbitch.com/2013/10/07/how-i-almost-murdered-ex-husband-2/  ), which is no excuse, but it’s too late now. It didn’t bounce back, so it wasn’t an automated address.  Maybe, she laughed because she hates Leo too. Maybe, it really upset her, who knows.

I just happened to notice the actual retail price on the receipt from the pharmacy. Talk about STICKER shock. And that’s why the copay has been $598. In that, all drugs that cost over $500 have a 40% copay on my policy, so the Pre-Authorization nonsense are just empty words.  But the poor schmucks answering the phone could never say that even if THEY KNEW why the co-pay had gone nuclear. And I wasn’t fabricating that part about the Canadian product. Check this out (from the website of the Canadian drug store):

You searched for:

Taclonex

Marketed as Dovobet Ointment in United Kingdom and Canada

Dovobet Ointment 0.05%/0.005%

CALCIPOTRIENE/BETAMETHASONE DIPROPIONATE

Manufactured by: Leo Pharma
This product is offered for sale by Day Lewis of United Kingdom

From $2.20 USD/gram

All of which is, so fucking typical, and, unfortunately, so fucking American…

Maybe, I should just move to Mexico. The lovely sun would definitely help my skin, and at least if the drug lords come after me down there, I’ll see ’em coming, and I can start shootin’ when I see the whites of their eyes…LOL…instead of yelling at them from cyberspace cuz Leo Pharm doesn’t list the address for their corporate office ANYWHERE online that I can find, probably for fear people like me will show up M-16s BLARING…:)

PEACE OUT from oh, my FUCKING GOD NOT AGAIN central…

Tenacious BITCH and her band of truth spouting hippies….

Kennedy/TB

Yes, I am, in fact – LOOKING FOR CRAZY…:)

Posted in Family, friends, humor, memoir, nonfiction, true crime, Uncategorized, writing with tags , , , , , on September 12, 2013 by tenaciousbitch

I HAVE A NEW BLOG. Its purpose is to gather crazy-assed narratives, post them on WP, and eventually incorporate 4 or 5 of them into a collection/book of bizarro stories called Tales from the Lunatic Lounge, which I am going to self-publish.

Why? Well, because I realized I have way too many stories of OH, MY, GOD that did NOT just happen kind of experiences during my 40+ years of surviving this bewildering thing we call life. And I assume I’m not the only one who has had a number of too flipping weird – not to be true events that have occurred in his/her life, and I thought it would be interesting to create a space to share these yarns of madness for public perusal.

NOTE: The deadline to submit stories for the book is NOVEMBER 15, 2013.

That said, if you’re interested in contributing a CRAZY tome or two, check out the new digs at:

http://lunaticslounge.wordpress.com/submission-guidelinesrulesterms-for-this-blog/

ENJOY, and I look forward to hearing from you! 🙂

THANKS for reading my blog!

TENACIOUS Bitch…and company

TB/KS

Post #109 – How Karma Bitch-Slapped the Philanderer…without kiting any CHECKS…:)

Posted in courtroom drama, marriage, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, sex, true crime, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 21, 2013 by tenaciousbitch

So, AFTER the initial batch of checks that Eli bounced, mentioned previously, I received a seemingly endless slew of notices announcing more ATM withdrawals/checks against our now HOLLOW joint account from him using the WRONG ATM card. The final total was $984.

However, my lawyer, Blaine Lexington, drew up a very reasonable settlement agreement requiring Eli PAY for his additional bounced checks/charges, and in exchange, I wouldn’t ask for alimony. Since he’d cheated on me, and he had no children to support, I had an excellent chance of getting alimony.

Apparently, Eli laughed at this proposal, to his detriment, I might add. You see, Eli, being the cheap bastard that he is, hired Lily Murano, who represented his employer in business matters. And Lily had NEVER handled a divorce before, LOL.

On the other hand, Blaine is the BEST divorce attorney in the state of Ohio, who charged $1500 for an uncontested divorce but I only paid $1100. Why? Well, Blaine’s wife, Felicia, is a friend of mine. We met at a paralegal seminar back in the late 80s.  And Blaine allowed me to do a lot of the legwork on the divorce to help defray the cost as well. In fact, I drafted part of the settlement agreement…:)

And, truth be known, Eli actually owed me a lot more than $984. About a month before we moved to Ohio, he asked if he could use my Visa to open an Internet account with America Online, just to use the free 800 hours.

He didn’t have a Visa because he SAID his ex-wife went uber psycho during the divorce (wonder why :)?) and opened a Mastercard in HIS name and ran up more than $5,000 in purchases, a scant $2,000 over the limit within A WEEK, allegedly ruining his credit, and his Visa got cancelled because of his plummeting credit score. And now all he had was a Sears card.

“If it’s free, why do you need my Visa?” I asked.

“To validate my identity.  You know, people would take advantage otherwise, and then AOL wouldn’t be able to collect any money or even know who to bill without a credit card. After all, I could make up any name as my email address.”

I nodded. “As long as you cancel it the SECOND the trial is over.”

“Absolutely.”

He was my husband. Why wouldn’t I trust him?

Two months later, he’d added $449 on my Visa bill from using AOL!! Back then, in 1995, AOL charged $3.99 per HALF hour for Internet service after the free trial ended.

However, Eli didn’t bother to cancel after the free trial because he was too busy chatting with other WOMEN and downloading PORN all day long on weekends and such on my FUCKING DIME.

I wondered why he so-loved AOL. I knew he was playing vampire role-playing games sometimes because he would talk about the plot lines sometimes.  But since he worked nights, and I worked days, I had no idea just HOW MUCH time he’d spent online until it was too late.

However, after I found out he’d cheated on me (re:  https://tenaciousbitch.com/2013/08/13/post-108-thank-you-fb-for-the-reminding-me-of-the-supreme-philanderer-and-my-check-kiting-days/ ), I SNOOPED on his PC, and not only did I find a cyber-sex conversation with Wolfbitch296, he’d saved on a Word file, but there were HUNDREDS of photos of naked women in leather masks who were shackled to a wall or, perhaps, secured with rope. Some were in elaborate costumes, save their large breasts tumbling out of what looked like PORT HOLES in body armor.

Some were on leashes on all fours. It was all rather disturbing, and I had NO CLUE that he would prematurely go WET, if you will, if I had slipped on some leather and assumed the position as the family pet. I would’ve laughed my ass off at the mere hint of anything like that because I’m not the least bit submissive. A lot of people are into that sort of thing, but it’s just not for me.

Though I cancelled his AOL account immediately, the bills just kept pouring in. And I destroyed half a dozen dishes/glasses and an ugly lamp lobbing one or the other at Eli’s head every time I exploded on him after opening yet another BLOATED Visa bill for 3/4 months. All tolled, the balance crested at $1100 over the limit because of the interest, late fees, and over-the-limit fees. He paid the MINIMUM payments until we split up, but after that, he paid ZIPPO because I allegedly charged more than that on his Sears card.

That was such bullshit. First of all, I, MYSELF, never charged one fucking cent on his Sears card, much less anything without permission. He offered to pay for new tile and new paint for my kitchen because my tile was 20 years old. He OFFERED to buy a new water heater on his Sears card when mine went kaput, so we could use my tax refund for our honeymoon. All of which was HIS idea. But the total on his Sears card was less than $1,000, so he didn’t even bother with that in court.

“It would cause an undue burden on your wife to pay the taxes on her home in West Virginia plus all the debut incurred during the marriage,” said Judge Bickely, a very attractive black woman in her 40s. “Therefore, I’m granting the Plaintiff’s Motion for Support, requiring that you pay the $1122 requested by the apartment community in unpaid rent after you relocated as well as-”

“Your honor, this will cause my client undue financial stress as well,” Ms. Murano objected.

“But your client broke the marriage vows twice, once by cheating, once by abandoning his wife in an apartment she couldn’t afford. Therefore, Mr. Costanza, you can agree to your wife’s terms, or pay $1,000 per month in alimony until she remarries. Your choice,” Judge Bickel said.

Eli glared sideways at me, then at his attorney. With a sigh, he accepted defeat and finally agreed to my demands.

In the end, because Eli refused to cover his $984 in bounced checks, he paid more than $5,000 over 28 months. DUMB ASS…should’ve taken the offer behind Door #1. If he hadn’t accepted the settlement, however, alimony would’ve cost around $40,000 by the time Charlie and I got married in 2000.  I just love when the justice system actually WORKS, don’t you?

T’was all she wrote, ladies n gents, cuz the fat lady’s singing! And singing pretty. And I hadn’t thought about Eli for a decade until seeing his SURLY self on Facebook (mentioned in my last post).

Over and out from fracked up central,

Tenacious BITCH and her band of truth-spouting hippies…:)

© Tenacious Bitch 2013

Post #108 – Thank You for reminding me of the Supreme Philanderer and my check kiting days…

Posted in Family, humor, marriage, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true crime, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 13, 2013 by tenaciousbitch

Round about 1993, I met an asshole named Allen through the personals in the newspaper.  Stop laughing and smirking. After all, the Internet was in diapers then, and dating websites were sketchy, clunky and relatively unknown.  Besides, I didn’t own a computer until ’96.

Long story short, after dating for almost two+ years, Allen and I got married in August of ’95. Not long after, Allen accepted a job at Ohio State as a chemical engineer or something like that. I don’t speak geek, badly or otherwise. And off we went to Ohio.

At first, Allen’s rendition of the devoted stepfather was Oscar worthy. Max was 4, and Rory was 9. Taking them to the park, going camping, helping them build model airplanes and other father-feigning activities.

Then, came our first marital blowout, on Valentine’s Day, a mere six months into our marriage.

“You should give up custody of Max, to his dad, Allen said, his hazel eyes darkening to a murky, turd-water green. And his voice was stern and authoritative as if this crucifixion of my life and Max’s were an order, not a suggestion. Max was a little hellion, but he was FOUR! It’s not like he’d just wrecked Allen’s car or something.

*And for those who are new to my corral of crazy, Ashe is ex #2, mentioned in this post:

https://tenaciousbitch.com/2012/09/07/post-75-about-ashes-logic/

“NO FUCKING WAY!” Was my swift, blood-curdling reply.

And so it began, the first of many vicious brawls between us. This one ended with him slinging me into a cinder-block wall. He then barricaded me in our bedroom with a chair under the doorknob. I sat stunned on the scratchy, sculptured carpet for a moment, completely bewildered. My back and arms were wallpapered with sharp-edged bruises. But, luckily, no broken bones.

Taking a deep breath, I bit down on the anger, and ran into the door, shoulder first like a battering ram. I heard the wood splintering and made a second charge into the door. With a SPLAT, the door gave way, and I landed, sprawled across the door, which had plunked down atop the washer across the hall.

And there was Allen, holding a wooden shard from the kitchen chair I’d bashed into with the door.  I think God saved me from breaking my pelvis that night, or the adrenalin padded my fall, who knows. Later, Allen confessed, he’d grabbed the chair just before I sacked it with the door a second time to lessen any acute injuries. How sweet – trying to minimize the blood bath he’d started. And I’d broken and dislocated his thumb to boot. Allen was a South Paw. After that, he had to learn to write with the opposite hand. Served him right…the bastard … 🙂 I was still raw from such a brutal exchange, so I called the police.

By the time the Sheriff arrived, Allen had gone to a motel to avoid “Anymore of my insolence.” Really? Interesting word choice. I was 26, not 12, and the word OBEY was not among our marital promises, but I guess in the warped world of Allen Costanza, I was still beholden to his whims, wants and rules. Fuck that. I didn’t alter my custody agreement with Ashe who had visitation on weekends. If Allen didn’t like it, too frickin’ bad!

A couple weeks later, Allen and I made a tentative truce of sorts. In that, I no longer wanted to boil him alive.  Not two weeks later, I developed what I thought was a yeast infection. But I was SO wrong.

“I’m sorry, but you have a rash that is most likely from,” the Nurse said with a heavy sigh, her eyebrows twitching nervously, “Well, often caused by a spermicidal product used with a diaphragm,” the nurse continued delicately.

“But I’ve been on the pill since Max was born…” I couldn’t finish that sentence as the realization sunk in. I stared at the nurse speechless and slack-jawed.  I didn’t own a diaphragm, nor had I ever used one.

I broke down sobbing knowing that I’d suffered with these damned hives that made me wanna sandpaper my crotch because of another woman’s birth control bullshit! Can you say DICKHEAD with a capital D?

And that was the end of Mr. and Mrs. Allen. I drove straight to his office, flung open the door and started screaming every disdainful adjective and four-letter word in my vast vocabulary. And I didn’t give a shit who heard me.

“See you in court, you lousy prick,” I sputtered sashaying my vindicated ass past his dough-eyed assistant, who’d been white-knuckling it the whole time while easing backward against a file cabinet as if fearing she was my next target. But she could drain his little ding dong dry for all I cared. I was DONE. However, I found out years later from a mutual friend, Allen had been boinking an ex-girlfriend who dumped him right after I did! Karma’s a bitch, is she not? 🙂

If all that weren’t bad enough, the month before our divorce was final, Allen darkened my doorway one sunny afternoon with claims of fiduciary misconduct.

“You’ve overdrawn our joint account.”

“I have not.  I just balanced my checkbook yesterday after I got paid, and there was $75 left over.”

“Well, I suggest you straighten it out because they might debit my fucking business account for your mismanagement of funds.”

“I didn’t mismanage anything, you fucking ass hat. I’d bet my life it’s your fuck-up, not mine!” I hollered in a huff, slamming the door in his face.

When Allen and I split up, we agreed, through our lawyers, that I’d use the joint account, and he’d use his business account at the SAME BANK.  And the $50 in our sad little savings was used to pay the fee for filing for the divorce.

While the neighbor watched my boys, I headed to the bank. When I walked in, there was Allen sitting with Brenda, a blonde in customer service, just lambasting me all to hell.

“And she kites checks all the time, so it’s no wonder. ” Allen explained in a very flat tone.

“Hello, Allen, what’s up?” I asked, smiling, wanting to bludgeon the smug off his face with a sledge hammer, but there wasn’t one handy.

His head snapped around, a sour face glaring up at mine. Not a word, just rolled his eyes.

For those unfamiliar with check kiting, according to dictionary.com, it’s “the unlawful practice of drawing checks against a bank account containing insufficient funds to cover them, with the expectation that the necessary funds will be deposited before such checks are presented for payment.”

  1. Guilty as charged.When you have two kids, and your ex-husband is behind on child support because he’s unemployed, and you make all of $14,000/year, kiting checks is the only way to avoid eating McDonald’s ketchup packets for dinner the night before payday. And I NEVER wrote checks for anything but groceries.

The ONLY time I ever bounced a check was because of  Mountain State Savings’ jack-leg practices in 1990. Though I deposited my paychecks every Friday at noon, they weren’t credited until 12:01 AM Monday/hog-tying one’s cash until Tuesday. To-wit, I covered the bad check, closed the account and went to Bank One.

So, ANYWHO…I sat down beside Allen as Brenda explained, “Well, sir, the problem is your paychecks are being direct-deposited in your business account, but you’re withdrawing funds from the joint account with this debit card,” she said, holding up one of Allen’s GREEN ATM cards that he’d already given her. “This is the card for your business account,” she continued picking up a different GREEN card.

“So, you’ve mismanaged my account, Allen! How shocking,” I said, with a much deserved gigle.

“Shut up, you stupid cow!” Allen countered, his face glowing red.

Sticks and stones, my friend. Sticks and stones. When we opened our accounts with 1st National, all three ATM cards were green. I warned Allen to request a different colored card for his business account, so he wouldn’t mix them up. But he poo-pooed me. However, I ordered a flowered bank card for the joint account to avoid such issues.

Yes, t’was Christmas come early! He had to write a check for $440 to cover his debits from the WRONG ACCOUNT.  In the end, our divorce cost him almost $5,000.

How’s that, you ask? Well, this post is long enough to choke a horse as it is…so tune in next time…for the conclusion of the Allen Fiasco and all its juicy…:)

And I’d like to THANK Facebook who sent me FLYING backward into the mental shadows of this shitty relationship after seeing its algorithmic prompt yesterday, which innocently said:

People you may know:

Allen Costanza

Red Bank, Wyoming

4 mutual friends…

WITH A PHOTO of his ugly mug staring at me from cyber space.

He’s currently separated from wife #8, and he’s rather bald. He also weighs somewhere north of 400 pounds! Meanwhile, I’ve lost 40 pounds since our demise. I hope that FB’s mystical auto friend prompter flung him the same message, so he can see how awesome I look in comparison. Regardless, I’d rather be horse-whipped than send him an invite!

Love and chocolate chip cookies – from fracked up central –

TenaciousB and her band of truth-spouting HIPPIES

Tenacious Bitch © 2013

 

Post #101 – No justice for Trayvon…and a feather in the cap of racism

Posted in courtroom drama, nonfiction, true crime, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 15, 2013 by tenaciousbitch

Like many, I was shocked and angry to hear that George Zimmerman was acquitted of 2nd Degree Murder and the lesser charge of Manslaughter in the Trayvon Martin case in Sanford, Florida. Since the Department of Justice and the NAACP are investigating the Martin case, and given the protests that erupted across the country from Times Square in New York to the Franklin County Courthouse here in Columbus, Ohio, to the city streets of Oakland, California, much less in Florida, demonstrates that the majority of Americans do not agree with the jury’s verdict.

I, personally, am among those that feel Trayvon’s family has been robbed. It was bad enough their child’s life was stolen at the tender age of 17, but now they’ve also been denied the verdict that would’ve sent Trayvon’s murderer to jail.

I realize I wasn’t a member of the jury, but did the jury not hear the same facts that we, the people, were privy to via the newspapers and news reports on TV? Trayvon was armed with Skittles and a can of Iced Tea, not a knife. Not a gun, not even a paperclip. But he was black, so that makes it different.

Never mind that he was just a kid walking along, wearing a hooded sweatshirt like so many teens (hell so many AMERICANS) wear in February because he wasn’t Caucasian, so he allegedly posed a threat to George Zimmerman who is quite obviously a good bit bigger than the teenager was. Yet Zimmerman’s injuries were described as “insignificant” compared to that of Martin. If Martin was such a threat, why weren’t Zimmerman’s injuries worse? Perhaps, because Zimmerman lied?

According to several news reports, Zimmerman was driving home when he saw Martin and called the police. That’s right. He SAW him. He didn’t observe Martin doing anything illegal or violent. Martin didn’t march up to Zimmerman’s vehicle with a Colt .45. Zimmerman was the only armed member of this violent tango that ended the life of a 17-year-old.

The truth of the matter: Martin was merely walking home. He didn’t say ANYTHING or do ANYTHING until Zimmerman approached him after Zimmerman had described Martin as a “punk” and an “asshole” to the Dispatcher in that chilling non-emergency phone call. If Zimmerman didn’t feel the need to dial 911, did he really feel that his life was threatened? I don’t think so. I think he just wanted to open up a can of pistol whoop ass on someone/anyone because he felt violated by break-ins in the neighborhood.

Is that not evidence of a hate crime to call someone a “punk” and an “asshole” automatically lumping Martin in with the unseen, actual criminals who unlawfully invaded homes in the area when there was no proof to support Zimmerman’s assumptions? Never mind the fact that Trayvon wasn’t one of the perpetrators of the burglaries because Zimmerman had the right to “Stand his Ground” according to a new law in Florida, that will probably inflict untold mayhem on the American justice system in the Sunshine State for decades.

It was dark outside that night. Zimmerman wasn’t even sure that Trayvon was black at first because Trayvon had his back to him, strolling away from Zimmerman while talking on the phone. It was quite clear from the testimony of Trayvon’s friend whom he spoke to during his confrontation with Zimmerman and the testimony of the police dispatcher that Trayvon was not the aggressor in this situation.

Given the fact that the Dispatcher told Zimmerman to “back off” and wait for the police, in essence – telling him to STAND DOWN, which Zimmerman ignored, leads me to believe that if Zimmerman had not initiated contact with Martin, neither one of them would’ve been injured. But we all know, that’s not what happened. And I guess evidence doesn’t matter in a court of law if you’re black.

But when was the last time a man or men in WHITE HOODS spouting racial slurs and threats of racial violence was/were incarcerated? I guess that won’t happen until they assault or murder a white person. And we all know that’s probably not going to happen.

Unfortunately, there’s not much more to say or do to reconcile this decimation of justice because regardless of the results of the investigations by the Department of Justice and the NAACP, George Zimmerman cannot be tried again in a court of law for 2nd degree murder a second time because of the law of Double Jeopardy. So, we the people are left with two options:

1) Don’t let your kids leave the house after dark alone, and…

2) God forbid if they do go out at night alone, don’t let them wear hooded sweatshirts because another over-zealous Neighborhood Watcher/wanna be cop might decide to rid the world of one more innocent.

That said, as I see it, this verdict is merely a feather in the cap for Racists and an indictment of vigilantism, and for that, I’m embarrassed to be a white American, and I pray that some good may rise from the flames of this tragedy in the form of appealing the Stand Your Ground law and better legislation to prevent this sort of lawless murder from happening again.

Over and out from f’cked up central…

TenaciousBitch and her band of truth-spouting hippies…

© Tenacious Bitch 2013