Is it a sex blog? A mommy blog? A bitch & moan blog? Um, . . . yeah. This is my place to be totally honest. In my real life, I feel like I'm always lying to somebody about something. Here, I am totally honest. Brutally so. However, no matter what bad things I say about my kids, I adore them and would never ever really, say, sell them on Ebay. The husband, often referred to as Spousehole, is another story. Oh yeah - if you are under 18 (or if you are my husband), please leave now.

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

Bitch, gripe, and moan (and not in a good way)

Hot Pierced Guy at the Gas Station: I've always thought you were kind of hot, even though piercings aren't usually my thing. But it tells me you can handle pain and sometimes that's a good thing. You get my sly, esoteric jokes and I love that. But you ruined it for me today. I came in wearing my “I voted” sticker. You saw it and said “ There's an election today? What are we voting on today?” Arrggh! Not informed on issues of the day – the kiss of death! You almost redeemed it by saying “I'll have to read the ballot closely when I head over there.” So at least you're going to vote, now that you know there's an election. Still, your hotness level dropped considerably.


HPGatGS's Cute Bi Co-Worker: You too have ruined it for me. I had fantasies of you joining the husband and me and you introducing him to pleasures heretofore unknown. But you were on your break when I arrived today and you were outside smoking. Smoking! Nothing I hate more. Oh well. Husband would never have gone for it anyway.


UPS: Where the hell are you people? Your robot calls and says that Husband's package (new kick-ass dual-core machine) is coming today and someone needs to be home to sign for it. That was 8:00 this morning. It's 4:00 now and I've been trapped here almost all day (had the neighbor watch for you while I voted – you didn't come then). Couldn't take the kids to the park, couldn't go to the grocery store, couldn't even take the Girl for a “go-sleepy drive.” Your driver had better be male, cute, and wearing the shorts. For lonely housewives, it's all about the brown shorts.


Girl: What the hell is your problem today? I tell you there is no “blue” of the snack you want. I show you there is red and there is orange, but no blue. You persist in asking for blue. There is no freakin' blue! Never has been, never will be! It's red or orange! Those are your choices! Deal with it! Bite me one more time and that “no spanking” pledge is history. History, I tell you! Dumping your chocolate soy milk on the living room floor while you gave me the “What are you to do about it?” look? I'm preparing the Craig's List post “2-yr-old for sale” right now.


Boy: Stop torturing your sister. That's really all I've got for you. So, stop it!


Husband: I always have a list for you, don't I? “Love” you for ordering a package that requires me to stay home to sign for it. Next time, take the day off work; YOU wait around all flippin' day. Or waive the freakin' signature. I know it cost a small fortune, but whatever. And that small fortune, by the way, it would have been nice to know you were spending before it was a done deal.


Self: Stop getting so pissed off about every little thing! They're kids, they do dumb stuff. Deal with it. UPS is never reliable; again, deal. The others - they're men. They're unreliable and they do dumb stuff. Chill, have a small drink, grill something dead and red, and roll with it.


Okay, I feel better now.


1 comment:

Semi-Celibate Man said...

I always vote. Always. It's a fetish.