Summer Stock Act One
2004-08-15 @ 10:41 a.m.
So there’s been all kinds of action programming on the crazypants network, but I haven’t been giving you regular updates because it’s more pathetic than funny, and although I am on the periphery of all of the drama, I really haven’t felt that the drama has specifically pertained to me.
But the girl’s favorite place to be has been Casa del Daddy for the entire summer, and we’ve been there. Because I’m lazy and like them to shut up and just play. I get weary of the the Daddyman channel, but it’s a favorite with the kiddies.
Tuesday night we were going to hang out at his because he has air conditioning, 2 TVs with cable (allowing myself to watch whatever I want-an incredible luxury) and he was going out on a date with KGB to discuss reconciliation (again).
Okay-have fun good luck. My car was not needed, my money was not needed, my approval also was not needed.
So about 1:30 am he's is knocking on the door that I put the chain on. Because, silly me, when someone says, “I won’t be home” I assume that I should lock up tight for the bewitching hours.
The Daddyman's night went from heavenly to hellish like he was in a luge with a heavy Norwegian. I would say that the pivotal mistake he made was after they had a lovely dinner and they went shopping, he took his wife out for drinks.
Upon returning to her apartment (faithful viewers may remember the show where he was
trespassed from this property,
But this evening he was not only invited, but had been delivered to since she picked him up from his apartment) she got a call from HER OTHER BOYFRIEND. The one that had apparently jilted her and led to this evening of reconciliation. She was dropping everything and out of there without looking back apparently, no matter how “nice” the evening had been. Since the Daddyman has been going to church and consorting with pastors and the like he’s taken on the role of “good” now. The choice between good and bad for KGB is a no brainer, right?
the Daddyman decided the best way to make sure that his wife didn’t drive drunk and didn’t meet her boyfriend was by driving home in her Xterra.
So cut back to where I am letting him into the apartment.
he calls her brother/roommate to find out if all hell has The Daddyman, by the way, is lucid-sober, not tweaked out in any manner, and seems mostly concerned that his wife will try to drive to meet the other man.
This is someone she tried to goad him into a fight in the parking lot of his apartment building where he’s the manager, so “at work” technically just the week before. When he called to tell me she was crazy and what should he do I told him “Um. Call the police.” And believe it or not, he DID. So there record of that craziness at least.
But soon, we see that the garage door is open. KGB’s car isn’t in the garage, so we figure she’s there opening all the garages looking for her car. Upon returning from investigation, the Daddyman says, “she found it. It’s gone.”
What should I do, she’s crazy. What should I do, she’s going to kill herself. What should I do, what do I have to do?
“She’s driving drunk right now. Call 911 and give them her name and license plate #” (HE DOES!)
About 15 minutes later, he sees a squad car in the parking lot and talks to the officers about what occurred. He is worried, but not too anxious, and lucid still. He’s not manic in anyway. Apparently she’s gotten away and he starts riding the merry go round of “do I tell on her?”
Telling on KGB means filing an affidavit signed by a notary telling the story of her drug use with him over the past 2 years. As a drug counselor she would be in big trouble at work. Without a job, she might also be in big trouble with her VISA, being that she’s not a US citizen. Comparing who has more to lose is easy.
Of course, the Daddyman can’t just tell on her. He has to tell her he’s going to tell on her. And he does. To which she replies “Then its war.” And with that he points out he has nothing to lose anyway. To which she says
“Please don’t do this. I love my stepchildren.” Yeh…NICE.
So after several hours sleep (for me) and whatever kind of rest the Daddyman has when he collapses his phone rings at 5:30 am to no answer. And again.
Then my cell phone rings. I hand it to the Daddyman who has come into the living room to see who’s calling him this early (as if we didn’t know) He sees from the number it is her and says “What do you want now?”
“When is your birthday?”
“It’s August 23rd. Why?”
“I guess you get your present early this year.”
It’s often been said between them that for his birthday he gets torture. Last year it was with this gift.
He keeps ranting at her and pacing through the apartment and notices a squad car in the parking lot. Suddenly there is less air in the world. Then there’s the knock.
“Who is it?”
As soon as they enter the apartment, they turn the lights on, and eep, who is sleeping right next to me, wakes up to see them telling the Daddyman he is arrested for domestic abuse and they put him in handcuffs. These are the same officers he was speaking to last night in the parking lot about his wife driving drunk. I confirm this with them and tell them that the Daddyman hasn’t left here since he spoke to them, that he’s been here since 1:30 am. They refer me to the police department in the city where KGB lives.
I am stunned.
Not only is there no way he did this, there is no way he did this tonight. The emotional evidence would have been palpable even if he was covering it up. Plus there’s no WAY he would have called the police to report the drunk driving if anything like that had gone down.
Let’s break for refreshment at this point, shall we?