And let me tell you, there is no place on earth more depressing than a child support field office. (Thank DNA/Big Bang/God of your choice that I am financially secure.) So awful. And I feel like a jackass in clothes that are nice with a nice purse and my iPhone and...well. Some dad swanned in ready to be every lady's BFF and chatted them all up and admired their crying babies and had a portable filing cabinet on the birth mother/his significant other maybe? (reading between the lines?) and I wanted to tell him that those offices are just like the elevator: be quiet and watch the numbers.
(Oh, and it was a hilarious episode of Keystone Cops because they didn't have all of the papers, and they don't have jurisdiction, nor do they have his confirmed address and HAHAHA, it's been years, why would I think they would have this down? At least I don't need the money. My kids deserve the money, but we don't need it.)
ION, I am continually blown away by the amazing response I'm getting for this story I'm posting. I mean... a few weeks ago I was ready to delete the whole thing, just sure it was crap. (Thank you, flaming_muse again for talking me out of it, and beating my story up until it became something better.) I just...I've been writing fanfic for YEARS and never had this kind of reaction. HAPPY CHRISMUHKWANZUKAH TO ME!
IOON, I am sick of chicken noodle soup, but I have no energy to go to the end of the block for Tom Kha. [/my life is the hardest] [/suck it, legless orphans that are also blind]
I WOULD LIKE TO BE ENTERTAINED. And fed fudge. And biscuits. How about it, Science?