It's There. Really. It's There. I Promise.

Men. Boys. Anyone with a twig and berries. SERIOUSLY - Which chromosome are these cromagnons missing that helps them FIND something? 

Scene 1: Branden is in the fridge. 
Him: Mom, where's the stroganoff from last night?
Me: It's in the fridge.
Him: I can't find it.
Me: It's there. Move things around.
Him: I still don't see it.
Me: Branden, it's right there in front.
Him: I guess it's all gone.

(This is when I look over and see the container that he just put ON THE COUNTER.)

Me: Branden, do you see the container with the noodles in it?
Him: Yeah.
Me: What's in it?
Him: I don't know.
Me: Does it look like noodles from the stroganoff we had last night?
Him: Ohhhh yeah!!!!!!
Me: Then that would be the stronganoff, wouldn't it?


Scene 2: Jay kinked his neck (doing absolutely nothing that I could see, but apparently being a man is a VERY physically grueling job).
Jay: (Hollering from upstairs) Babe, where's the Icy-Hot?
Me: It's in the hall closet.
Jay: Where in the hall closet?

(In our hall closet, there are towels, sheets, and a bin right in the middle of the closet at eye level where all medicine stuff is kept. It's always been there, it's never been moved, it's never been used for anything else, and everyone - I mean EVERYONE - knows where it is, what it's for, and what's in it.)

Me: It's in the bin.

A few minutes later I go in and he's lying in and around a dozen pillows, maneuvered into the most ridiculous position I've ever seen. About 99% certain he hasn't been reading the kama sutra or trying a new yoga position, I ask the obvious: What the hell are you doing?

Him: My neck hurts.
Me: Did you put the Icy-Hot on it?
Him: I couldn't find it.
Me: Did you look in the hall closet?
Him: Yes. It's not there.
Me: Did you look on your dresser?
Him: Yes.
Me: Did you look on my dresser?
Him: Yes.
Me: Are you SURE you looked in the hall closet?
Him: Yes.

So I go look in the hall closet because that tiny maternal part of me is up to date on teenagers and the dangers of medicine closets to them. Partly concerned that one of them has snatched the Icy-Hot in an obvious attempt to get high (and more power to them if they do), I decide to do a quick spot check. I open the lid and here's where it got really hard and I'm gonna give Jay the benefit of the doubt for this: I actually LOOK INTO the bin. Lo and behold, the Lord doth providith 'cuz right there in plain sight of anyone with an eyeball was - you guessed it - the Icy-Hot.

I go back in there and stand about 6 feet from his ridiculously contorted self. "You are the biggest dumbass. You didn't even TRY to look! I should force you to get your sore retarded ass up and walk over here and get this. Better yet, stay there and I'll throw it to you. You know I'll miss and hit you right in your stupid eye, and then you can explain to everyone why your wife gave you a black eye because you are STUPID!"

Because I'm not entirely heartless, after about twelve please's (and since he's already a human pretzel, I'm gonna assume his position was an attempt to beg on his knees), I finally gave it to him. But he can sure as hell rub it on himself 'cuz if my hands get anywhere near his neck, it's gonna be for wringing, not rubbing.