Diary of a Wolfeman

(psa)

Just a quick heads-up for those of you out there who own a domain name that is due to expire anywhere within the next decade: you will be receiving a letter in the mail from a new Registrar trying to get you to switch over. There is no requirement to do so, and it is not a bill. If you’re happy with your current Registrar, throw away the letter.

(/psa)

I received another letter today, this one from my stepsister. I’ve never talked about her before because I don’t talk to her, and feel no need to talk about her. See, when The Old F.a.r.t. married the MallHag, he got stuck with her daughter as well. The both of them are the worst sort of mall-bunnies a man could run afoul of. I admit that The Old Man was never a good father, but it got worse after he married MH. This was back when my brother and I were both fighting tooth-and-nail to get by, and would every now and then get stuck in a “crap they’re gonna evict me!” or similar problem. Dad, however, was never in a position to help because the Hag had already spent all of the money – on the daughter.

They are currently long-haul truckers who spend a fair amount of their time on the West coast and could conceivably drop by to see us sometime, but they only ever see my bro, because her parents live in the same town. The last time, they spent the weekend with the in-laws, and saw my brother for an hour. I’ve been here for 4 years, right on I-5, and they’ve stopped to see me once.

Of course, this is the same man who bragged to me about how much money he was saving on his new house because the builder was using illegals to build it – at a time when I had been unemployed for 6 months and was signing up for food stamps because thousands of tech jobs had been outsourced to India.

Bitter? Moi?

In the eight years I lived in ‘Vegas, the stepsister lived there for I think 7, and the only communication I received from her at all was via her mother – something about having met an old girlfriend of mine and wanting to know if she could give out my phone number. Never heard from her again, and this was sometime before I got married, which means pre-1995. (The return address on the letter was First-initial.Last-name, and I couldn’t remember what the initial stood for. That’s how long it’s been.)

Well, she is finally worth something to me: she’s blogfodder.

Today’s letter was a teaser invitation about her upcoming wedding. Not a full invitation mind you, but a teaser invite with the pertinent names, date and location with a “More info coming soon!” tacked on the end.

Worse than that, the thing is printed on a fridge magnet, with a quote from Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire”. Ok, if you just look at the lyrics, it can me thought of as a love song – but it never struck me as one. More like a man reminiscing about a love that burned him, but he can kinda look back on it as a lesson learned.

The kind of song a divorced guy would sing.

On a wedding invite.