Posted by: anniewilson | January 19, 2009

Oh no she di’int!!!!

PART ONE: My knee jerk reaction…

Deanna Colletti,

You white trash piece of shit. Now I see why you were calling me. When you sobered up you remembered that you had fucked with one of my kids in a drunken stupor again…and I believe that I made a promise about that. This is gonna be good.


PS You know something fat ass, even RICK didn’t fuck with my children. That was way stupid. Now even the fact that you’re dying a slow alchoholic death isn’t as appealing as it used to be. First I waited for you to grow up, now I’m waiting for you to drink yourself to death because you grew up to be one nasty skank. If I were fat, tall, ugly and stupid, I would be one NICE mother fucker. You have reached out of your own personal slum of a life to mess with my children and you’ve done it for the last time. You’ve made yourself impossible to ignore. Have a lovely day.

PART TWO: I’m not quite in the mood to be a bitch yet…

Happy Monday!

I bet that it’s particularly tough to think about holiday spirit today…especially if your team lost yesterday. But there’s a pretty darn good feeling going around the world right now with the whole inauguration thing. Slow down and pay attention or you might forget some of it. If you’re young enough, you’ll live to see people who only read about this in history books. You’ll want to be able to tell those people what it was like, because you’ll be Grandma or Grandpa and it’ll be your job to tell such stories. You’d be amazed how quickly today will be history…I remember JFK’s assassination. Of course, I only remember it because it interrupted Bozo…but I do remember it. 

Anyway, That’s not what I came here to say, I hate when I get all turned around like this.

OK, some of you may have noticed a short message that I left to my other ex-husband’s insane drunk of a wife. It may have seemed somewhat curt and if so, I’m sorry…but that wench really pushed my buttons when she messed with my kids. I’m funny like that.

I’ve ignored her for 20 years now and for some reason that one can only ruminate over, she is in awe of me. She hasn’t turned her attention away from me since she claimed her betrothed…an event that would have been considered statutory rape in most states without her mother’s signature…and ever since, she has tried her best to inflict pain upon me in her drunken passive aggressive manner. Since I live a thousand miles away and I hang up when she calls me in a drunken stupor, the only way she can bother me is through my children and I specifically requested that she NOT to do that anymore.

Anyway, I have to write something about that but it probably won’t be funny and I’m in such a good mood that I wanted to start off lite instead of going straight into bitch mode. As I’ve said before, it’s not a natural state for me but I know how to get there. And, as Jerry said, “I’m not unskilled…I’m in the union.” With age comes great potential for effective iniquitous behavior. But, as I said, it’s not in my nature to behave malevolently so I’ll work that up in a while…maybe while I’m doing the dishes. Then, after due consideration, I shall return and attempt a direct hit that will have repercussions for years to come. I shall follow up that hit with a few occasional surprise attacks. Then, I’ll quickly bore of this and it’ll go back to the way it’s always been. It almost makes it a waste of my time but only in the same way that changing a shitty diaper is a waste of time. You clean up the shit and then it happens again. In all aspects of life, you have to clean the shit out every so often and that’s all I’m doing.

But first, I’d just like to enjoy the new day as it begins with my coffee and a PB&J on toast. I might even read the morning news too. Ah, it IS a very peaceful morning. The only thing interfering with my morning joe is Tony DeFranco. I’ve got ‘A Heartbeat is a Lovebeat’ stuck in my head. I hesitate to act without thought because once I did that and I ended up with ‘Down in the Boondocks’ stuck in my brain. That was supposed to get ‘Never on a Sunday’ out of my head and I can’t figure out which song was more annoying.

If I’m gonna have a song in my head, it should be one without much redundance. I could try ‘Blinded by the Light’ or ‘American Pie’…I think I’ll go with ‘American Pie’. My theory is that something will interrupt me before I finish the song and then I’ll forget where I was and go on about my business. Even if you’re interrupted by Jehovah’s Witnesses, you can go back to “A heartbeat it’s a lovebeat, and when we meet , it’s a good sensation”.

Well, that’s enough brevity for right now. I’ll be on my way to do a chore or two and then, as I said, I’ll be back.


PART THREE: Here we go…

I can’t work myself up into the bitchy mood that I was going for. I almost had it and then a great Meatloaf song came on and I started tapping my toe and the next thing I knew, I was fricking happy again. My bad…I should listen to country music if I want to get angry…not great 70’s stuff. Anyway, I have to get this over with so let’s see what I can do with a smile on my face.

In 1978, I met a short Italian dude at a disco. It was literally a disco…that’s what we did in 1978…we went to disco’s. Or, of course, we went to disco record burnings on baseball fields. Anyway, my date was a gay friend who was my perfect dance partner. We practiced for hours and we would go out dancing at the local places where Chicago kids discoed every weekend. We danced for hours that night and earlier that day at my office Christmas party. After half a day of dancing with my friend, a song came on that I wanted to dance to. But by then, our other friends had shown up and my escort wasn’t in the mood. I went off to sulk at the bar and I ordered an apricot stoned sour. After I ordered that drink, I never, ever danced like that again. That’s when Italian Dude sat down next to me. I’ll spare you his lines, suffice it to say they were what you’d expect from a guy in black, high wasted polyester pants and a red silk shirt unbuttoned down to the gold Italian horn that hung between his nipples.

Long story short…we got married and divorced, all pretty quickly. We were kids and it was a mistake. No harm no foul…right?

Well, it was that way. After we separated, my ex was the perfect ex. He gave me anything that I needed for the kids. I knew that he loved them and I knew that he was a man who came from a very close knit family. He would never let the kids down. I was so happy that he wasn’t the type of father who would abandon his kids but looking back, he IS one asshole who might should have.

Within a year he met this teenaged psycho wench from hell who has turned him into someone who honestly believes that creating a home environment full of disdain for me personally is a good thing to do to his kids. How does a nutty kid with substance abuse problems turn a grown man into some pathetic shell of his former self? Where did the spunk that this little guy had go? How about everything that his family taught him about respect? If you can disrespect your own mother, who is out of bounds? Who the hell is safe in a world where it is acceptable to disrespect your own mother?

And my poor daughter has had to hear how she is “JUST LIKE HER MOTHER!!!” My beautiful little girl was told repeatedly that her mother was bad and that she was “JUST LIKE” her mother. That poor kid. How do people live with themselves? God forbid any of my kids did something Mom-like, like listening to that Springsteen guy!

Springsteen’s bad.

Mom’s bad.

It’s just all bad.

I need to be with my daughter.

My kids will tell you that I have always reminded them to call their father and his parents and each other on birthdays and holidays. But I was more into the raising of decent humans thing, not so much a personal army of downright mean people.

But, the crazed wench slowly, and in an extremely passive-aggressive manner, created a home where it was not only good to speak ill of me…the mother of the children she was manipulating…it was passively rewarded to the point where even Pavlov’s dogs would have attacked me for simply walking by. Her control over her little Hate Mommy Party extends to friends, lovers and spouses. If you want into the good graces of the head drunk…you must participate in Mommy bashing. Period. Tst! Tst! (That was the Dog Whisperer.)

Over the years I have tried to befriend her but it’s not worth it. So, I just stay away and assume she’ll get bored. But, she never, ever, ever does. Remember that I haven’t even lived in the same state as this nut since she married a man years her senior and inches her shorter. I’ve never bothered the Drunken Duo, I sit here and live my life without giving them a second thought until someone gets drunk and calls me. I just hang up on her and now I have to hang up on my ex as well because he has totally lost any shred of manly honor that he had when I was married to him. I have lost all respect for him and I don’t know who he is anymore.

He was raised in a family with a “black sheep”…like many of us. His black sheep has stolen from every single person that he could possibly have stolen from and he’s done enough drugs to kill a small woolly mammoth. But, he is always forgiven and always given quarter and the respect that family owes one another. That’s how he was raised…I met his family. But in his household, a mother is disposable…even his very own mother…should she speak to ME. How he could allow his own home and his family to be terrorized by this nasty, nasty female is beyond me.

I remember yelling at one of my kids once and it had something to do with their father. My son begged me to stop and I saw the pain in his eyes. I never, ever, ever did that again. But when he’s with his father, he is in a place where he is taught that it is perfectly OK to disrespect me. That’s where my kids were raised, in the “Who can say the meanest things about Mom?” house.

That’s what they know. It molded them. It was as though my ex took the lessons about respect that his own family had passed down to him and he tossed it all in a gutter. What a slap in the face to ALL family everywhere.

In the 80’s, I drove a Mustang. My kids came back from a visit with their father and said to me, “Mommy, Deanna said only STUPID people drive Mustangs…why do you drive one?” Another gem, “Mommy, Deanna said that people who watch soap operas are idiots…why do you watch one?” And my favorite…”Does your mommy still do drugs when you fall asleep at night?”

This from a woman I’ve seen maybe 4 times in my entire life and the last time was when you didn’t need a 2 to write the year.

I go back to Chicago occasionally but they never know when I’m in town…unless of course she reads it here. But she would never find me and I wouldn’t think of her with so many other options…(Hi Hickey Guy!).

I pretty much leave them alone because I’m not stupid and I hate drama. I sit here and shut up and over the past 20 years, everyone who had listened to her and my ex speak ill of me have seen nothing to indicate that I am indeed, the devil incarnate. But that doesn’t stop these two from crying “Druggie!” every time they hear someone bring my name up, in conversation or in a late night drunken phone call. Basically, I’d have to be a glutton for punishment to WANT to be involved with those 2 lunatics and I get enough punishment all on my own. I don’t need to import any from Chicago.

Last year my ex sent me paperwork from the Catholic Church so that we could have our marriage annulled. I spoke to him and said, “If there’s anything that I can do to make this easier, just let me know!” He thanked me and our marriage was dissolved in the eyes of the Church. I was pleased because I thought that if this last link was gone, they could get married in the church and she wouldn’t be so insecure and she might leave my kids alone. I was way wrong.

As always, I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Of course that probably means that my ex is ALSO damned if he does or damned if he doesn’t…I would feel sorry for him if he didn’t help her make me look like Satan’s spawn in front of my children.

I give up…that’s it…that’s all I can do. I’ve raised the kids, I’ve stayed out of state, I’ve left them alone for years at a time. But sooner or later, someone gets drunk and finds the phone.

If it were just me…I could deal with it. I always have and jimmy crack corn and I don’t care. But she calls my kids. And…if my kids aren’t angry at me over some transgression, she will berate them into submission. It’s pretty much a done deal now that they’re older…my kid’s father let some piece of trash create an environment where it is OK to disrespect your mother. He knows better than that. At least he used to.

I speak to in-laws, the family of my children, who see the situation for what it is and we just don’t tell anyone because if Jabba the Bitch knew, she would make life miserable for the person who should speak to me. Once she had my elderly ex mother-in-law in a hideous state because she had committed the atrocious sin of allowing me into her home on a visit to see my daughter. That poor old lady is still paying for that gracious behavior. So, now instead of just sitting back and listening to everyone be honest with her, she has created a situation where everybody with a backbone just does what they want to do and tells her what she wants to hear.

Personally, I would have gone with open and honest but I never even would have considered trying to wield that much power over other humans. It just never would have occurred to me…and I’m a much nicer person.

Oh, before I go…every single mother fucker who knows that nut will also know that I am absolutely, 100%, dead on balls accurate. Every single one of them. Of that I am sure. Another thing that I’m sure of…there’s a special place in hell for those who abuse children and old people…and those who stand by and allow them to be abused.

Mark and Deanna Colletti…behold the world your deeds have wraught.



  1. Were you ever able to up load any pics / video from Your Presense Requested? I would love to see them.

  2. Those pictures were on my roommates camera and I couldn’t get them off and then she moved out. I asked her once if she still had them and she said she didn’t know, but if they were mine, I probably would have taken them off. You never know if one or two made it. I’ll see next time I see her, she always carries the camera.


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