Holding a Chainsaw Don’t Make You a Lumberjack Anymore Than Putting On a Dress Makes Me a Lady, Pal!

I have officially become a complete Bitch. Not a bit-a-Bitch, or a some-what Bitch; no… a complete Bitch. Well, perhaps I should rate myself only a 9 on a scale of 10, due to the fact that I’m still capable of operating with a conscience when absolutely necessary, and I also feel empathy for the underdog, but that’s it! I am even embarrassing myself now with how hardened and bitter I’ve become, and as you well know I don’t embarrass easily.

Yesterday I came unhinged over the slightest thing. I ponder over it now and think perhaps I could’ve handled it differently. No…I could’ve definitely handled it differently! My husband’s buddy, the one that was here Saturday evening with his girlfriend (remember how I got talked into having people over for cocktails and a late dinner by this certain friend after my husband basically sicced him on me, and then ended up entertaining his girlfriend all evening that I had just met while the guys hung out in the garage?), just showed up unannounced yesterday again, as he always does. This infuriates me, I might add. Here I am lounging around early afternoon still in my jammies, and the moment he pulls up the drive my husband groans, heads for the bathroom, and tells me to inform him that he’s in the shower. What? I’m in my jammies! Now my husband did this because he knows said friend is already drunk–the guy wakes up and starts drinking beer and whiskey–and is aware of the fact that he’s not going to get anything accomplished but hanging out with this guy if he’s available. Just great!

I greeted him at the door and stepped outside, because he’d brought his female German Shepherd and my very-male Pitbull was going ballistic wanting to come through the door. Within a few minutes I could tell that he was not to be dissuaded by my husband in the shower, I wasn’t going to hang outside the whole time, and just invited him in. My husband could deal with this mess himself. We start chatting, my husband steps out of the bathroom, I shoot him my sweetest look of “Guess who’s here to see you?”–serves him right!–and proceed to go back to checking emails as the two of them exchange a few words while my husband is running a comb through his hair. Then the unhinging occurred.

Now none of this would’ve happened if it were not for the fact that I’m normally too nice. People, never-ever go out of your way to accommodate others in your home or on your property just for their benefit if it’s something that makes you feel uncomfortable, because if you do you set yourself up for them assuming they can say or do anything they please, and expect you to just ‘suck-it-up’. This has happened to me more often than I care to admit in the past, and I have little tolerance for it anymore, as the hubby’s friend quickly found out yesterday. He made the mistake of thinking I’m his friend too and I would just ‘suck-it-up’ so to speak. Wrong again, pal!

They’re sitting there chatting and the buddy tells my hubby that he’s just been over at the vet’s they are both friends with, and had cut up some wood for him. I’m sitting at the desk at my pc in the corner of our large living room, and shoot a look over my shoulder at my husband who’s across the room like… Is he kidding? He’s using a chainsaw and he can barely stand up he’s so intoxicated. I said nothing though. Then the buddy asks my husband if he’d like him to cut up the limbs from the storm that had occurred. Before my husband had a chance to say anything I spoke up and told him “No thanks. I don’t think you should be handling power tools right now, babe.” Without missing a beat he tells me he’s fine. I then informed him that he might think he is fine, but that there would be no chainsaws being used on my property by someone who’s been drinking. Then he said the magic words “Don’t you worry about it.”

‘Don’t you worry about it’? OH HELL NO…I DIDN’T HEAR HIM RIGHT! Oh yeah, that’s right, those are magic words for Pissy…among others. That poor, pathetic, little man had no idea what he’d unleashed with that slight bit of cockiness in his voice. My husband knew, and cringed when I raised my voice and said “Oh hell no…he didn’t just say that. You’d better get your damn friend in check before I have to or it’s going to get ugly in here.” Before the hubby could respond–not that I think he was brave enough nor intended to–his dumb-ass friend had to open his mouth again. He told me to calm down, that he’s experienced with a chainsaw and had been using one forever, and that I shouldn’t worry about it…insinuating, you know…it was like a ‘male’ thing.

Now my chair is swung around, I’ve pushed myself away from the pc, and am giving him the look. My husband shrivels up a bit in his chair, and the drunk buddy looks at me as naive and innocent as a lamb about to be slaughtered.

Me:  “Yeah, well…you’re a good ten years younger than I am and I’ve been chewing out men’s asses longer than you’ve been alive. There will be no chainsaws used on my property today.”

Drunk Buddy:  “No Lou, I just meant….”

Me:  Yep, I interrupted. He was done talking as far as I was concerned. “Oh, I know what you just meant, and apparently you don’ t understand how things work around here, pal! This is MY house…understand? There ain’t shit that happens on this property that isn’t okay’d through me first.” He starts to glance in the direction of my husband. “Don’t bother looking to him for support. He can’t help you, and he knows it or he would’ve spoke up already.” I then shoot my husband a crusty look to enforce what I’m saying. “Now I don’t give a fuck how much you drink or what you do at your house, but I’ll be damned if you’re going to be wielding a live chainsaw around my husband with us being thirty damn miles from the nearest hospital, take a chance of your drunken ass lopping off one of his limbs, and him dying and leaving me to take care of this shit-hole and his dog by myself. NOT GOING TO HAPPEN! This is my house. In my house I’m right. You wanna be right, you go home and you can be right there. Now I don’t wanna have a problem with this again. When I say something I mean it the first time. You got me? And don’t you dare EVER tell me not to worry about something where my home and family are concerned. Are we clear on this?”

I guess I don’t have to tell you that the room got eerily quiet. My husband, who probably should’ve been angry, rubbed his hands across his mouth and turned his head. His way of covering up that he’s starting to laugh. The drunk buddy hasn’t taken his eyes off me, other than to look at the floor and his beer a couple of times. I informed them both it was a good time to go out to the garage, and returned to my emails. My husband did, but the buddy stood there for about five minutes apologizing, and telling me that my husband was one of his best friends, and that he really liked me too and hoped I wasn’t going to throw a wrench in their friendship. I kept assuring him it was fine, but that he needed to know his place where I was concerned in my home. My husband stepped back inside–I can only assume to save him–and the two finally headed out the door. Damn men!

Okay, I know I probably overreacted, but my patience and tolerance is at an all time low. I’m basically fed-up with being made to feel that I just have to put up with shit from everyone. And the saying is true: “Give em an inch and they want to take a mile.” Basically, let them think they can say or do whatever they want, and they’ll take it for granted. I’m finding this applies to nearly everyone, and am tired of being a damn doormat. And this isn’t something that happened overnight. It’s been brewing for some time. I know where this came from though. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out when the change began. This shit began stirring around in my belly like a bad piece of meat this past February when I had to go through some shit dealt me by two people who supposedly loved me. Yeah right! With love like that I’d be better to take my chances blow drying my hair, while making toast, and watching tv in a bathtub full of water. Get Pissy’s drift? And though I’d like to think for the most part I was able to move past that, though I have no intention of ever forgiving them or wishing them well, have now finally accepted that the two of them make the perfect couple. Second only to Charles Starkweather and Caril Fugate in the damage they are capable of doing to others. May they feed off one anothers insecurity and weakness for the rest of eternity with my blessings, and the consideration and respect they extend to one another be as generous as what they’ve shown me.

I fear whatever sensitivity, understanding, or discretion I had is leaking out quickly through the hole they created from the jagged knife they shoved deep into my back. They’ve altered something about me that was vital to my being the decent person I was. The jury is still out on whether this is something I need that will be the catalyst to push me forward and benefit me in the future, or whether it will serve to harm me by making me more abrasive to others. I’m not quite sure. I’ve been tempted to write about it completely hoping to purge myself of it, but have hesitated to do so. Yes, believe it or not, there are some things that Pissy doesn’t elaborate on. The reason would not be to save them–as I wouldn’t piss on either of them if they were on fire, and in fact might add more fuel and dance merrily around them as their black hearts go up in flames–but rather because of the humiliation I still feel from being a complete sucker in trusting her, and having wasted so many years believing in him.

Anyone ever had this happen to them?

22 thoughts on “Holding a Chainsaw Don’t Make You a Lumberjack Anymore Than Putting On a Dress Makes Me a Lady, Pal!

  1. Hooray for you! Going “off” on somebody like that always frees you a little bit and gives you more power than before. I’m from a family that always let things off their chest and we are some of the most rested people you’ll ever meet.

    1. My family is like yours and don’t take no crap. Unfortunately, I’ve tried to curb my opinion where my hubby’s friends are, because I don’t want to come across as ‘HIS’ husband, if you know what I mean. I guess you could call it respect. There’s just times I can’t bite my tongue any longer, and that was one of them. Still, I did really come unhinged and probably could’ve worded it different.

  2. Being a generally laid back and easy person, I am often confused for a doormat myself. Some folk mistake kindness for weakness. Like thinking a friendly cat is harmless. But trust me, nor matter how friendly a cat is, someone will think twice about disrespecting that cat if the cat ever decides to stick their claws in em. Standing up for yourself is not a sign of losing something, but rather a reinforcement of who you are. To randomly switch metaphors: sometimes we need to reinforce the walls to ensure that the home is safe before we invite people back in…

    1. You are so right about the kindness/weakness thing. I have always tried to be a good hostess in my home, as I was taught to do by my mother. I go out of my way to make people feel welcome, keep them entertained, and make sure they are comfortable. Pissy was raised with manners, believe it or not. Some people take advantage of this though, misinterpret my kindness for being a pushover, begin stopping by unannounced, overstaying their welcome, and acting like this is their home and I am someone who has to wait on them and put up with their shit. Umm…no! And I hate it when this happens, because then I have to become the bitch, and am angry that they brought that side out of me. On a more positive note though, I don’t think I have to reinforce the walls any. I doubt he’s going to bend the rules anymore after the riot act I read him. And I’m not going to be so nice the next time company arrives and starts making themselves unwelcome, I can assure you.

  3. Oh yeah, he was drunk as a skunk when he got here, but it gets better. He just got popped not long ago for his THIRD DUI. His 3rd!! Did a stint in jail–which I’ve had a dui, know jail is not fun, but I learned my lesson and it didn’t take me three times to do it–and personally I think his butt should be sitting in the joint for a while to wise him up before he kills somebody. Hasn’t learned a thing, still drinks everyday, and still drives everywhere while doing it. WTF? Sadly, he really can be a nice guy, and it’s a total waste of a life in my point of view. I mean, I like my cocktails…but damn, there’s something called over-kill.

    1. I lost my partner and one of my closest friends through my partner being drunk behind the wheel…. it was awful.

      I like my cocktails too but then again I don’t drive 😉

      It’s a shame when you can see someone you care for destroy themselves. Don’t you have a 3rd strike and your out clause? Over here he’d have lost his licence

      1. Oh, I’m positive they yanked his license. I’m not sure about the laws too much concerning DUI’s. I know for me mine was suspended for six months for a first offense (I could’ve had it back a long time ago, if it were not for the whole controlling husband thing). Second offense I believe is two years. Not so sure about third, but I’m thinking if you haven’t learned your lesson by then you need to take up some space in a cell for a while and perhaps it will change your mind.
        This guy actually is a pretty nice fella most of the time. He has a problem plain and simple that he can’t get a grip on. I’ve nagged him till I’m blue in the face, but he has a girlfriend at home that says nothing to him about it, so I guess he feels he’s not going to suffer consequences because of it. That shit wouldn’t fly if it were my old man.
        God, I’m sorry about the loss of your partner and friend. I, too, have lost people because of drinking and driving, though none that were that close to me. I am very thankful that I never hurt anyone or myself and that the officer pulled me over that night before any real harm could’ve been done. I admit, it wasn’t the first time I’d drank and drove, and had in fact made a habit of it when I worked at the bar. Foolish I know. Much like this friend of my husbands, I thought I was invincible. I’m fortunate it didn’t take an accident to cure me of it.

  4. Correct me if I’m wrong… pulled up on your driveway = driving whilst already drunk? And then talking about operating a chainsaw whilst under the influence.. he’d have been shown the door via my son’s steel toe capped boot.
    Well done you for speaking out.. it’s great therapy I find.
    My ex’s dad always used to drive me mad by talking down to me – like I’m a female so I must be short of a few billion brain cells..Karma is a fantastic thing though.. it was hillarious when he told me I had to put my ex’s indiscretions to one side and learn to forgive him.. ha ha ha ha 🙂

  5. Ok, how many times did the “HeMen” emerge when you and I were together? Hellooo…I AM THE MAN, LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE!” You, being the weaker sex, should know that man can do anything! Thank you, Lou, for putting one of these idiots in their place. Between the idiots jumping off their garage with a towel pinned around their neck and the idiot who almost throws up in the hot tub, it’s a wonder that man has propagated the species. These friggin'(midwest) men who think they’re Tarzan or Tim Allen need to know that women know they are idiots! Remember the thumb incident? Who has metal in their leg from a man thinking he can handle a bike? Hmmm….You go, girl!!

    1. I know..he pissed me off royally. Although I admit I did feel a little bad afterwards, because he sat there looking like a little kid on the end of the bed waiting to be told how to dress. Guess he underestimated me, huh? Thought Doug would’ve warned him by now I’m a loose cannon. Ah well…some guys have to find out the hard way.
      Oh yeah, I knew Randy was going to end up hurting one or both of you eventually by the way he used to handle the ‘gauntlet’ at full speed. Dumb-ass! Why do you think Doug came unglued when he came out of the station that day to find you and I had switched bikes, I was heading out on your bike with Randy, and you were sitting on ours? He freaked, and I got my ass chewed later. Of course, I was three-sheets-to-the-wind at the time, and you know how fearless I am then, but once sober Doug read me the riot act, reminded me how crazy that fool was, and I was informed I would never be riding with him again. I’m just thankful he didn’t end up killing you, and the worst that happened was he permanently screwed up your leg. Bad enough he screwed up 25 years of your life. I just have soooo many reasons to hate that man. Ooooh!
      I can’t wait to see you this weekend. Almost two years is waay too long. Have you given any thought to what you’re up to and how much trouble you want the two of us to get into yet? ((snicker)) THE BITCHES ARE BACK! Yay!!

  6. If being sensible is being a bitch, there are a lot of us out here. I hate chainsaws in the hands of testosterone driven men at the best of times. And fueled by booze. No way, no how. And if being a bit poxy (which I don’t accept you were) saved a limb or three, it is a small price to pay. And I HATE, HATE, HATE being condescended to. That brings my inner bitch rising (and she doesn’t have far to travel) without booze or chainsaws.

    1. Yeah…what you just said! There is nothing worse than having some dumb-ass hick, who’s uneducated, and alcoholic, talking down to me. It makes me wanna break out what my kids call the ‘big’ words and cuss him out intelligently as he stands there slack-jawed trying to comprehend what I’m saying, before I slap his ass around. And you’re right, it wasn’t what he said so much as how he said it. I’m just so glad to know I’m in the company of so many other wonderful ‘bitches’.

  7. Well, that was INTENSE.

    Must’ve felt good to let it out, on the spot, and SAY EXACTLY WHAT YOU MEAN and MEAN WHAT YOU SAY. There is not enough of that in this world, with women taught to be polite, agreeable, maleable, even spineless and subservient, all part of the Male Conspiracy to keep us down so they can go on imagining we’re dumb little things that can be easily subdued, just so they they don’t have to barter and negotiate or reason. How convenient. Of course, women always play along, to appear attractive and desireable, as if pliability and emotional dishonesty is another shade of lipstick we can put, to manipulate our overall appearance. To be so…pretty 😉

    Probably this guy is embarrassed about his drinking and does not know how to stop. Maybe you reading him the riot act may have some kind of wake-up call effect on him. You never know.

    I bought my first and only chainsaw this winter to finish cutting the wood from the trees I had removed, to make a garden (which is growing beautifully I might add) and it is electric, so you don’t get any kickback. But mistakes can still happen. I would only use it for forty five minutes at a time, to prevent getting tired (similar to being drunk, if you think about it). So yeah, chicks know about chainsaws- at least this Broad does!

    A fine and engaging post, as always.

    1. Thanks Babe! And may I say that your description of the oppressed woman is right on target. Far too long we’ve been considered second-class citizens in our own homes, which I might add are the same ones that WE take care of, and would cease to be a ‘home’ at all if we did not do so. I’ve gone out of my way to try and allow my old man to keep his pride intact around his friends by cooing over his and their every need when they’re present to look like the gem of a wife and he the luckiest bastard that ever lived, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to continue the charade and allow someone to come in and talk down to me in my own home. Not going to happen! I think it’s safe to say I’m not going to have any further problems with him. Wanna know something? The old man has said nothing…NOTHING…about it. In fact, when I told him today that I was tired of his buddy coming over here drunk, the only comment he had was, “So am I.” That’s right. He better know his damn place too! Mama has taken off the gloves and is on a roll. Just looking for an excuse at this point to scrap.

  8. IMO, nothing that you said constitutes overreaction. I think you would’ve been justified to say exactly what you did absent power tools. Considering power tools were involved? Oh, hell no. Just hell no. You shouldn’t have had to speak up so loudly and so clearly against something so incredibly stupid, but it’s good that you did–because how might today’s entry have ended otherwise?

    That is just terrifying. Just absolutely terrifying. And how dare someone tell you not to worry about it. What are you supposed to be worrying about, exactly, if not drunk men wielding power tools on your property?

    This reminds me of learning about “expectation setting” in my big corporate job. At the beginning, I had people harassing me every two hours about whether their contracts were done. My manager said that was because I wasn’t letting them know what to expect. She proposed I start telling people right up front when they could expect to hear from me, and stretching that out a little to accommodate unexpected delays. It was so uncomfortable doing that for the first couple of months, but i found that I saved so much time by setting those expectations right up front that I started doing it in my personal life, too. Sometimes people see it as aggro and unnecessary, but . . . life is always, always easier when people know what the boundaries are straight out the gate.

    You did the right thing and you did it the way it was most apt to be heard. Nothing bitchy about that at all. Nor c**t-y, falling back to an old email!

    1. Drunk men…I know…right? Sheesh! If they ain’t slurring, stumbling, hugging, bragging, flexing their muscles, or wrestling around, they’re trying to kill themselves or each other. Not on my watch! I intend to keep my old man around long enough to either… A: Fix what’s broken in our marriage, or B: Get the satisfaction of having him see my sexy ass walk out the door. I ain’t intending on burying him before either/or happens.

  9. Mother Hen has found that, as a general rule, she only loses it big time after she has been bugged and sat on it and sat on it…So now what she attempts to do is to speak up earlier on before the pressure builds too high and she gets a bad case of exploding verbal diarrhea, which gets messy and tends not to go over well.
    Postponing conflict tends to lead to big, hairy scenes.
    You were right about the drunk with the chainsaw though. Let him go saw off his own leg!
    Mother Hen

    1. That’s what I’m saying! “Go home and let your old lady worry about this shit, not me!” Cripes!
      Yeah, I used to be really bad about holding shit in where people I cared about were concerned, and then when I blew, I blew big time. It’s getting easier for me now just to nip it in the bud, but unfortunately the damage is already done where some are concerned and they haven’t figured out yet not to open their trap around me or my alter ego ‘Lucretia McEvil’ is going to come out. Dumb-asses!

    1. Perhaps a ‘Bitch’ that’s RIGHT. I did really jump his ass, and almost feel bad about it now. I just didn’t like the almost-patronizing tone he took with me, as if I should keep my mouth shut about things I didn’t understand and let the ‘men’ handle it. WTF? I’m still a little pissy about the way he sat there on MY loveseat, in MY living room, in MY house, after I’ve been kind to him, served him beer and cooked for him in the past, and then acted as though I was second-class to my husband or something. I think perhaps now he has an idea of who really runs the roost around here, and that when Pissy gets ‘PISSY’ even my husband won’t interfere, but only bothers to save his own ass. Good for him to know. Damn men, anyway! I hate it when they make me break out the broom and give my true nature away.

  10. I’ve had similar incidents happen when I was married to my first ex, but being very young and immature and easily intimated, I didn’t say anything. That would not happen today. With age come experience and knowing what your priorities are and I don’t care what anyone says anymore. It takes all I can do to keep my yap shut when my son-in-law is around and I only do that so I can see my grandkids. You did the right thing. Who knows what would have happened if those two had gotten hold of a chainsaw. I had a friend who was cutting branches and the saw kicked back and nearly sliced his arm off. And he wasn’t drinking. You did the right thing.

    1. Son-in-law, huh? Yep, that sounds familiar. Although they’ve never gotten married, my daughter has been with her boyfriend now for about eight years and they have two children together. He and I do not get along. I believe it’s because he likes to control her, and feels a power struggle when he’s around me. Dunno. Anyway, I tried to appease this boy forever, and kicked myself in the ass every time I did it. The chunks of pride I swallowed were unimaginable, and did nothing but egg on his desire to be an obnoxious jerk to me. I did it though because I wanted to keep my daughter and grandchildren in my life, and knew if I didn’t he would make it difficult for them to come out and see me. I finally had enough one day. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I decided he was no longer welcome on my property, I would not allow myself to bite my tongue or be insulted by him any longer, and if that meant not being able to see my girl and those kids then so be it. I hoped that she wouldn’t let it happen, but unfortunately this is the way it’s played out. I would never have let a man keep me from going to see my mother, but apparently my daughter doesn’t have the backbone I have, because it’s been over two years since she’s been out to my place and that I’ve seen my grandbabies, and even more since we’ve shared a birthday or holiday together. I’m not pleased with what has transpired because I had to stand my ground, but I’m no longer subjecting myself to bullying either. It’s a price I’m willing to pay. Sometimes you have to stand your ground no matter what happens. In my case, my daughter and I have learned to have a relationship over the phone and make due. I can live with this if I have to, but couldn’t live with the other. Give that a little thought before you keep taking the shit, grandma. Like I’ve told my children many times, “I can love you no matter where you are. You don’t have to be here with me.”
      Yeah, I’m terrified of chainsaws anyway, and the hair on the back of my neck rises and a lump appears in my stomach any time my husband borrows his fathers to cut down shit. The last thing I’m going to do is have some drunken fool wielding one around my old man. Not going to happen! I don’t mind divorcing his ass if I have to, but I don’t want to bury him and then be forever grieving over the loss. Um..no.

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