It’s noonish on Memorial Day. My mom is hospitalized. I just had to call to let them know she is an alcoholic and they need to watch her for withdrawal, and I begged them to give her a nicotine patch because she’s a runner and will pull her IV out and leave.
shes at Conway Medicial Center in bumfuck, South Carolina. I am certain they world renowned on their genetic research on inbreeding.
Happy summer, y’all!
No, she broke out into a rash. ChatGPT seems to be concerned about liver failure because of the alcohol and acetaminophen-based opioids she’s been chewing. Everything is low on her labs and they are waiting for the MRI of her abdomen. She is on a magnesium drip and I angered her by being upset about something else, because the world does actually revolve around her.
I’m certain she is pissed I’m not already on a plane. I have shit going on and I need to find a job, and I can’t fucking fly to South Carolina if she isn’t, like, dying, which I suppose we don’t really know yet.
Meanwhile, newspaper headline this morning: "A Las Vegas defense attorney is accusing the Clark County District Attorney’s Office of unethically dismissing a criminal case, asserting prosecutors denied his client justice by engaging in behind-the-scenes dealing."
Byline: the fucking dude I’ve been talking to who said my story isn’t a story. He said “{D} wasn’t that important.” Oh, really? Well I fucking am, and that fucker called me a whore for being raped, so I think it’s a more interesting story.
Anyways. Called and left a message for the lawyer handling that case. {D}, correct me if I’m wrong, sex is covered under a civil right, 1983, yeah?
Call me a fucking whore and see what the fuck happens. I’m feeling a might litigious up in this bitch today.
My filing I wrote says something like, “That statement reflected a discriminatory and legally improper rationale rooted in gendered rape myths concerning intimate partner sexual assault victims, including the false belief that continued contact, continued intimacy, trauma bonding, fear, emotional attachment, or ongoing abuse negate the existence of rape.”
Let’s fucking go, Wolfson.
I should have filed this years ago.
If dude won’t take it, I’ve got a fucking PACER account now. I need to file in person and that shit is happening if a lawyer doesn’t take it, and I have to file a motion to be able to e-file, which is kinda bullshit, but what. Federal court do what it do. So because I have to go anyways, Mr. Ford and the gang at DOI are on the chopping block as well. You all can thank Mr. Wolfson’s prostitute comment for it.
I’m fucking done. I’ve been on the phone with not one but two attorneys who, of course, won’t represent me, assholes, but I’ve got some support and insight and possibly some ins at this point. Both of them have been crying, one for his lost dog, the other for his lost fellow servicemen.
What a fucking day.
The latter of the lawyers is talking to a friend in the media. See what he can do.
Oh, and I have other things rolling too. June is gonna be a bitch.
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