So, Daddy Dearest forgot my 18th birthday.
And today, two full days after my birthday, he sends a card. And it didn't say a thing at the end. Not, "Happy Birthday", not anything. I didn't even watch it all, to tell the truth. I'd be surprised if he had even known how old I am.
It's not like he has no contact with me, either. I have to talk to him every night on the phone.
I deleted the card, so there's no date on it anymore. Therefore, I received the card just before five o'clock, on Friday, March 4th, 2005. Just to have that down on record. As far as eyewitnesses- my mother saw the card as well, she was the one who watched it all the way through, and showed me the message (or lack thereof).
It sounds horribly esoteric of me, I know, but I think it's necessary that I have that written down as proof. And my mum has printed a copy of the card out, just in case.
Well, we know where his loyalties lie. And I'm sure some judges would love to hear my little story. What a great birthday present, indeed! ...he always says my mum tries to turn me against him, and it's stuff like this that proves him wrong. He turned me against him himself. I also want it to go on the record that it is his own responsibility to remember the birthdates of his children, and it is no one's fault but his own.
**good news: I got the part in the play that I wanted. You're looking at Stacey Miller, beauty-queen pork packer extra-ordinaire!**