Defying the Odds: A Tribute to Giovanni

Douche Bag is an amazing human being – and I don’t mean that in a complimentary way. How someone has managed to bungle their way this far through life with such stunted mental capacity and have achieved any modicum of success gives credence to the story of Forrest Gump. However, unlike Forrest who at his core had a heart of gold, Douche Bag has the soul of a satanic imp. I shouldn’t call him a devil…that’s not nice, and it’s not fair to the legions that dwell in Hell either.

What makes Douche Bag so amazing is his ability to draw certain types of people to himself – which are mainly other idiots. One of the laws of physics is that opposite poles attract. However, Douche Bag and his cronies are all like poles. How does one defy the laws of physics?!? Intriguing.

Let’s take Giovanni, Douche Bag’s ‘hairdresser’, for example.  This is the same champion who wrote a 3-5 paragraph statement concerning the alleged deplorable condition of Nadjah’s hair for the benefit of the courts. This statement was supposed to serve as proof that I am a negligent mother. Let’s fast forward 6 months later. This mental dwarf informed Douche Bag, who eagerly informed ME, that Nadjah’s roots were damaged, probably from being over pressed, and that she was going to treat it with shampoo the next time she saw her. Douche Bag emphatically made washing gestures on his bald scalp to demonstrate the planned procedure.

“So…does she mean she has bald spots?” I asked.

“No!” he cried.

“Ok…so is her hair falling out?” I was confused. Everything that I had ever read or been told about root damage was that the proof lay in the loss of hair. Her ends could use some work, but as far as I could see, her roots were (and are) fine.

“No! She just wants to treat it,” he reiterated. I drove away with my daugther in the back seat of my car, still confused by the conversation I’d just endured.

My sister had a field day when I relayed this story.

“Ah. Shampoo. So she’s going to wash the hair?”

“Yes, I guess so,” I said.

“So what is one washing supposed to do to her hair? Unless it’s a leave-in shampoo…in which case it really would damage her hair,” she thought aloud.   

“I don’t know what Douche Bag and his idiot friends have planned,” I conceded. “I asked him to find out what this ‘treatment’ is, and I haven’t heard back from him.”

“God, what an idiot!”

“Oh, it gets worse,” I continued. “My car has been making a squeaking sound for the last 3 years. The mechanic hasn’t had anything to say about it, and my car has passed emissions every year. Douche Bag has never said a word about it either…until this weekend –the weekend I’m supposed to see Prince. ‘Baby! Your belt sounds like it needs some lubing. That squeaking sound means your belt is dry and is about to snap. Want me to show you?’ So he gets out and shows me and then says ‘Well, your belt is brand new, but it definitely needs lubing. If it breaks, that’s going to cost you a couple hundred dollars.’”

“Ok, I don’t know much about cars, but I thought the purpose of a belt was to cause friction,” Adj quipped. “If you lube the belt, there will be no friction…therefore the car cannot move.”


“What a frikkin’ idiot!!!! How does he make it through the day?”

It’s true what they say: God looks after babies and fools.

Sometimes I feel like I’m staring in a cartoon, and this idiot thinks he’s the hero, albeit a bumbling one. It’s like this is a never ending episode of Scooby Doo – he’s Scooby, I’m Shaggy, and he wants to be rewarded with accolades before he does what he’s supposed to do.  

 Scooby Douche, will you pay your child support?


Not even for a Scooby snack?

Roooo…rokay. Mehber rater! (maybe later)

Do you know this brain dead barbarian actually had the gall to call me, while I was at my job, to tell me that since he is now working consistently, I could call him to ask him to buy Nadjah shoes or clothes or to pay to get her hair done if she needed it?

“I don’t mind at all,” he smirked. “And I know you. You won’t ask me for anything.”

He doesn’t mind? Is this not the same Neanderthal who informed me that I was not to interfere with he and his daughter’s relationship? She’s a GIRL. She’s always going to need shoes, clothes, and to get her hair done.  Furthermore, at the exact moment he called me, he was 2 months behind in child support! Why would I think to ask “Father of the Century” for anything when he’s spent 5 of the 6 years of Na’s life doing and paying nothing? Do I look like I was born alongside him in the Dumb Ass tree?

No, no I was not. I don’t call to ask him if I should give her breakfast/lunch/dinner; maybe he should get a clue and do what comes naturally as a parent? Perhaps that’s too much to ask of someone who shares the mental fire power of a mushrom. 

I’m dismayed that he has managed to locate and congregate with so many others  (Giovanni the ‘hairdresser’ and Diamond the hairdressing stripper) who share the same DAGs {Dumb Ass Genes} this far from Demopolis, AL. But what am I to expect? Idiocy is a virus that is difficult to contain.