It’s probably best I don’t say much. Its part frustration, part disappointment, with a smidgen off irritation thrown in just for good measure. And confusion. I’m confused. Mixed signals aren’t better than no signal at all.
Yeah. Frustrated.
Archive for the ‘Boys Are Stoopid’ Category
More Frogs Than Princes
Thursday, June 24th, 2010And I didn’t even get kissed.
Why I Blog
Thursday, February 4th, 2010One of these days I won’t ever need to blog again. Because one of these days I will have someone in my life to be my sounding board and won’t need the internets to blab to. Someone happy to listen to all my wacky stories and off the wall ideas.
Someone who won’t judge when I start listing out 25 weird things about me that may or may not include the fact that I can fit my fist in my mouth.
Someone I can rush home to at night that I can share a batch of photos I took of myself while standing in front of the bathroom mirror at the office.
Someone who thinks its a great idea to eat animal crackers dipped in cream cheese frosting for breakfast and to make pancakes with Skittles in them for dinner.
But for now, and especially right this moment, I am painfully aware that there isn’t that someone.
And so I blog.
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Just A Little Bitter
Monday, November 3rd, 2008I never realized how much toilet paper you used until after you left. I know that we would routinely go through 3-4 rolls in a week’s time. I just thought that the kids were using it as they would go in our bathroom just as much as their own. Turns out it WAS you. You seriously need to go see a doctor. I have counted – in the last week I have used less than one roll. And that includes 100% child usage as well since their toilet has been out of commission (until earlier today, thank you Mr. Landlord for coming over to fix!).
I’m finding myself getting used to, and quite enjoying, a lot of other “missing” things lately. Like the coating of partially dissolved protein shake mix that was always left to dry and cement in the bottom of the kitchen sink. Apparently turning on the faucet and rinsing was too foreign of a concept for you.
I also do not miss your underwear lying on the floors (yes, as in multiple rooms) or your keys thrown carelessly on top of my heirloom wooden jewelry chest (thanks for scratching it jerkface and then trying to say it was already damaged). Ditto on your lazy butt using my bath towel and then not hanging it up to dry, I totally love wiping off with a smelly, soured towel. *hoarf* You obviously knew that you were getting in the shower – would it have killed you to grab your own towel?
I can’t say that I’ve missed the house being dirty all the time either. It’s amazing how spending 5 minutes a day to pick up after yourself will do wonders for the place. The kids understand this concept (to a certain degree) and I don’t have a problem with it. But somehow, your genius level I.Q. 39 year old self can’t grasp it. Buh bye.
No, I don’t miss you and don’t sound all pissy when I confirm this to you every single time you ask me. The kids don’t miss you either. Oh wait – The Boy would like for you to put his basketball goal back together, the one you disassembled before a storm and then have let lay on the grass for the last three months. Preesh.
I especially enjoyed telling your friends at church today that you were gone. Oh and the one that’s known you for the last 25 years? Yeah, she didn’t really seem all that surprised. Go figure.
I hope you had a nice weekend on your bike at the beach. If the check you wrote me on Friday bounces, I’m selling your tools.
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Hypocrite
Tuesday, July 8th, 2008I was on the phone with a new salon making a hair appointment (still can’t believe I’m cheating on my long-time stylist!). The man on the phone laughed because I kept saying “sir” to him and joked, “call me sir one more time and you’ll loose this appointment.” Now, I get the joke. I’m not miffed that he was joking around and had he shut.his.mouth at that point then I wouldn’t be writing about this.
What I’m miffed about is that he then proceeded to call me “darling” and then “cutie” as I completed the appointment making process.
WHY is it not ok for me to be polite and use the formal “sir” (seriously, I just have good manners!) and it’s ok for him to use terms (darling/cutie) that some women find degrading when uttered by strangers or people less than familial?
I’m writing his name down in my book. He and I will have a conversation about this when I visit the salon.
Strike one.
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