Schadenfreude ist die schönste Freude.

Well, now. What do we have here? There you were, talking to everybody like you had your shit together, you were on your way up with a shit-hot new job.  Talking shit on both me and my wife like we were, well, lower than shit on the bottom of your shoe, like you were so much better and better off than we were — only, as it turns out, you were telling filthy lies to everyone, and your life is a fucking wreck, fucked up ten ways to Sunday, worse than it’s ever been, frankly, because of your bad decisions. You can say what you want about us, and I have no doubt you will…buuuuut….

… at least I still have my job, and a pretty good one at that.

…at least I didn’t burn through all my paid time off as I burned through God knows what substances legal and possibly not, leaving my employer to give me the choice between quitting or being fired.

…at least my house isn’t in foreclosure because of all the above.

…and, last, but certainly not least, none of my children are being raised by their grandmother, who has already put in her time raising her own children to adulthood.

And you know, I’m sure all your friends who pointed the finger at my wife and me for being “jealous” of your “success” would see this little gloat and sit on their self-righteous asses and tell me to have more compassion. Well, fuck them, fuck that, and fuck you. Now, I do hope you actually do get your shit together, for your kids if no one else, but fuck you just the same.

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