Note: This post was originally written on my tablet, which I thought was a clever way to get a post started without having to get up off my ass to go to the computer. Unfortunately, typing on a tablet is not the same as typing on a computer. My post looks like some form of Mayan hieroglyphics that even I can't be 100% certain translated as it should have. If sentences seem weird, it's probably that. Or it's just me being weird. Either way, I'm blaming the Mayans. They're an extinct people so they'll never know, plus they keep trying to scare us with their END OF THE WORLD calendars, so they deserve to take one for the team.
In addition to my dear husband's many fears, like toothpaste and loose socks, he is most deathly afraid of the phone. He can't answer it, not ever. He can't order pizza. He can't call down to the neighbors and see if our kid is where he said he'd be (he'd rather get in the car and go stalk our child with a slow, slumped down in his seat, call the cops drive-by than just make that call). He can't make outgoing calls without making it a chore on his to do list as in "make sure and call my mom on Tuesday to make sure she's still alive." In my mind, if that's a valid concern, it seems it should be worthy of - even necessitate - a spur of the moment ring-a-ding, but no, Homey don't play that way.
Tonight the phone rang and it was a real person's name, not one of those fake company names, so I answered. A real man asked for Jay by name like he knew him. I took the phone upstairs and whispered, "Who is xxxxxxxx?" He hissed back, "I don't know." So I said, "Well, he's on the phone for you." He started backing away like he was Superman and the phone was kryptonite, shaking his head no like a toddler with a spoon of smushed peas being shoved in his face. I hissed back, "Take the damn phone, I already told him you were here!" He gave me a look of what I think HE THOUGHT was fearsome, but I was already pissed at having to get up, walk upstairs, and then back down again, so his fearsome was no match for my annoyance.
After he came back down:
Me: See? It was someone you needed to talk to. Why'd you have to be such an ass about it?
Him: It wasn't anyone I knew.
Me: Yeah, right. Why were you giving out your information?
Him: It was a guy from State Farm wanting to give us an insurance quote.
Me: Right. From State Farm. Except we don't need any insurance so why would you even talk to him?
Him: He offered to give me a quote so I agreed.
Me: Whatever. So why were you telling him to call you back tomorrow for the information?
Him: Because he said he'd have the quote ready then.
Me: You don't even handle the insurance stuff, I do.
Him: Will you just shut up already?
There was probably another comment from me right there because Lord knows I CANNOT ever not have the last word. Not ever. But.....halfway through this witty repartee, I had started to go upstairs for something, so the last few sentences were yelled back and forth across the house (as usual). Proving my inability to multitask, i.e. walk and talk at the same time, after his last comment and I was gearing up for my own, I slammed my knee into the foot of the bed instead. I also yelled "DAMN it, son of a BITCH, frickin' frick frick frick!!" as loud as I could because like a wounded lion roaring, everyone in my house appreciates a little safe notice when I'm gonna go all out crazy bitch angry. But my HUSBAND, never one to panic over any of my dozens of weekly self-inflicted owies, at the exact same time as I yelled at HIM, "Look what you made me do!" HE yelled at me, "See? That's what you get!"
I came downstairs and like any mature adult would do, I went to my mom and held up my knee a la Nancy Kerrigan circa 1994 and said "Look! Look what happened!" Like the very nice mom she is, she said, "Ow, honey, what'd you do?" I yelled, "HE did it! This was HIS fault! He made me smash into the bed and now my knee's broken and it HURTS!" He was sitting smugly in his chair like the jackass he is and said, "Karma's a bitch, huh?" I said, "No, ***I*** am a bitch, so you better sleep with one eye open tonight." As is his usual 'let it all just end right now' careless attitude, he just smiled and said, "Bring it on."
Oh, don't worry, love of my life. It's so on.
Queen of my own Magic Kingdom, full of all the irreverent, obnoxious, and sometimes offensive sarcasm you know and love. I don't care what people think of me, but I do care if you like my blog. Read, forward, repeat.
