Soooo, here in Kiwi-land we have the usual suspects.
The Prime Twat has to be seen to be doing something about shootings. Solution: Change the law so that people have to hand in their guns. Which criminals and potential nutcase shooters sure as fuck ain't gonna be doing.
Ebola. Ebola. Ebola. Holy shit. Someone trying to cull the herd or something?
I haven't worried too much about things recently. Work tries to Pile it Higher and Deeper (PhD). Just nod, smile, and laugh inside as others drag the chain on shit. Close to six months of dealing with governmental slowness and stupidity - someone is milking the system big-time.
Me, I can't be bothered pushing on a rope.
Every Friday we get together for a lunch, it's very cool. Best is when there is no wimminz around - the real talk happens instead of the fluffy dogshit that teh wimminz lurv lurv lurv to talk about.
Today's was a beaut. Just the two of us. We got to comparing ex-wives situations with our own. Fucking awesome eye-opener.
Him, weeeeell, he's got his mortgage back. His finances under control. Adding to his collection of motorbikes. Him and his lawyer went through everything, about all he has is an older car - everything else is owned by a Trust. On paper, he's a fucking pauper.
Her, she's got a house and mortgage. She's had to rent part of it out to her boyfriend and his teenage girl kids - which is fucking weird by itself. The boyfriend has nothing, two teenager girls tearing the place up. A beat-up car belonging to the boyfriend is on the lawn, her car is broken down and on the lawn. Looks like trailer-trash central.
The difference between my mate and his ex: he can go out and do shit, she's living hand-to-mouth and fucking her live-in rent-paying boyfriend who has two teenage girls - one of which is not his.
Very similar situation in comparison with me and my ex-wife. Fuckin' striking.
Retirement-wise, he was originally planning to retire around 55 - now it'll be 60-odd. Me, I was originally planning to retire around 50 - now it'll be 60-65. Unfortunate.
Then we look at what the exes are doing. Ho-lee-fuck. If they'd stuck with us:
* his wife would have been on easy-street instead of hand-to-mouth pauperdom
* my wife would have been retired at 38 and traveling the world with me, instead of hand-to-mouth pauperdom
Thinking about it, my brother and his ex-wife are much the same. He's doing damn well. She's living hand-to-mouth.
These women have simply pissed their lives away.
Basically fucked themselves and their lives beyond repair. ('Cause there aren't many 50 Shades of Shit millionaires to "rescue" their shitty asses from their bad choices.)
Gentlemen. If you happen to become divorced - hold on tight. Because within 10 years, you will almost certainly be back on track.
And she will still be fucked.
On a cold winter evening, in front of a fire, I raise a glass of warmed Grand Marnier to you, my brothers. Live well!
