Posts Tagged 'family'

Glade Plug-ins are a cock block

Someone once told me my house smelled like a Jolly Rancher.  I remember it well.  Let me clarify; my memory is like my hearing.  Very selective.  I remember someone once telling me I walk like I have a board up my ass, I remember someone telling me that when I talk my mouth moves like I’ve done several lines of cocaine (What?? Thanks!)  And who could forget the brother-in-law who told me the caloric content of iced cappuccinos from Tim Horton’s.  Dick.  Beyond that, I can recall bits and pieces of whatever the fuck I choose apparently- or whatever my sister deems really happened.  She, of course, remembers swimming out of the birth canal.  But the Jolly Rancher compliment??  It always makes me smile.

I have always had a candle fetish.  I like potpourri and incense and cinnamon and tend to impulse buy any new contraption promising to deliver strong scents.  Gone are the days of candles alone!  Wax melts? Scentsy? Wallflowers?  Oil warmers? Febreeze Noticeables? Glade Plug-ins?  Yep, I have them all.  And God forbid when I find a scent I like.  Then I must purchase the spray, the designer one-touch spray dispenser, the decorative things that look like gel, the melting candle cubes, and whatever else I have a coupon for.  I am sure I would give the marketing director at Glade wet dreams.  I wish I could say the same!

The husband does not bitch about much concerning the interior of the house.  Not that he can.  It is an unspoken agreement that it is my domain.  He does not complain about the quantity of candles I purchase; nor does he give me shit about how much money I spend.  Not the he knows.  Another unspoken domain.  But he does not (physically) pay the bills and definitely does not (physically) clean the house.  So we are both happy.  Except for the electrical outlets that I whore out to all my little smell good friends.

We have three kids and a dog.  I do not want my house to smell like we have three kids and a dog.  Therefore, I keep the 16-year-old’s door shut, a three wick candle (or three) in the kitchen, and random plug-ins throughout the house.  I strive to be accommodating.  I make sure I leave one attainable electrical outlet near each of our end tables to allow the husband easy access to our ever disappearing phone chargers.  He still gets angry.  Apparently it is a fucking inconvenience to reach BELOW my plug in and use the other outlet.  Of course, this is only when he is sitting on a certain part of the couch.  If the charger is plugged into the bottom outlet, it does not quite reach past the arm of the couch which causes the husband to have to tilt his head slightly to the left.  Which apparently hurts his fucking neck.  If I move the plug in to the bottom outlet,  this hinders his ability to smoke a cigarette in the garage while using his charging phone.  This also causes him to have to more pronouncedly tilt his head.  Yes- I realize that a longer cord for the charger might solve this issue, but

1.  I REFUSE to buy anymore fucking chargers.  We have had seven I-phones in the past year and I still have purchased three new chargers; two of which we have left that the five of us fight over daily.

2.  It would still piss him off.  Like he mistakenly believes that the electrical outlets are his domain.

My solution?  Charge your fucking phone before you use it.  The husband charges his phone like he puts gas in his car; only when it is below empty  or at two percent.

So tonight the husband moved my plug in to another outlet.  When I noticed, I moved it back.  I figured one of the kids had moved it.  Nope.  So we argued about it for a few minutes.  I tried to rationalize.  I pointed out the fact he still had an available outlet but made the mistake of pointing out the laziness I associate with his lack of understanding.  I know it was a silly argument.  No matter.  He is in bed and I am on the couch enjoying my last Bass.  I will meander upstairs eventually; but I am sleeping with my clothes on tonight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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i fucking hate christmas(and people who won’t call it Christmas)

I am in a pissy mood.  I don’t necessarily have a reason either.  Sometimes, I like to think that because I have not had a period for the last 17 years that grants me pms days whenever the fuck I feel like it.  What set me off? I had just finished making dinner and my daughter grabbed a can of soda from the fridge.  She asked if she could pour it in a glass.  Let me explain.  I empty the dishwasher almost as much as I do laundry.  I fucking hate it.  While I was making dinner, I realized that the dishwasher had reached its maximum capacity.  However, I pride myself on my dish loading skills.  The husband wholly believes I should never have to load or unload the dishwasher.  We have three kids for Christ’s sake.  I agree.  But they, like him, tend to fuck shit up so they do not have to do it again.  No one in my household understands the concept of rinsing off debris from plates before stacking them in the dishwasher.

“What’s the point of washing the dishes before we wash them?”

I refuse to buy Cascade Complete.  Too fucking expensive.  I do, however, buy Cascade.  The off brands don’t seem to work as well.  Have you ever bought a generic magic eraser? Yeah- not the same.

So I questioned why the daughter needed a glass when she usually drinks soda straight from the can because the dishwasher was already full and the husband had just brought in 6 tumblers from his car that he toted his coffee to work in for the week.  Because God Forbid anyone(the husband) in my house uses anything(a  travelling coffee mug) for anything it was meant to be used for.

The husband gave me shit for giving my daughter shit (yeah- he understands) so I fell silent.  Because I am passive aggressive.  My best friend chose the next moment to call me, when I had already fast forwarded to all the reasons my life sucks right now; including but not limited to the fact that I need a vacation yet my husband gets motorcycles.

“Why did you call me?” I asked her.  Her turn.  She fell silent.

I tried to explain that she called in the middle of one of my “I’d probably be pms’ing if I had a period,” moments.  (God love Mirena!!)

I tried to assure her that it was NOT because she had told me a few hours earlier that she had most of her Christmas shopping done.  She has three kids too.  But they don’t count.  Because they are young and not demanding.  Her husband, on the other hand…

I am Jewish.  I do not like Christmas.  I grew up celebrating Chanukah (pick your own spelling!)  I never had the visceral experience of running down the stairs on Christmas morning and tearing into present upon present that Santa had delivered under an adorned Christmas tree.  Nope-Jews drag that shit out.  Over 8 days.  One year, before my daughter was born, the husband’s best friend gave each of our boys $100.  He gave kid #1 a hundred one dollar bills.  He gave kid #2 one $100 bill.  Kid #2 freaked the fuck out because he thought his brother received more money than he did!  Yup, sums up my thoughts on Christmas!

Two years ago, I asked the kids what they had gotten for Christmas the year before.  Not one of them could remember.  I told the husband, “No more! We are only buying them large, tangible gifts!”

And yet, I still find myself shopping Christmas Eve every year because we do not think we have bought them enough.

Another reason I hate Christmas?  Because my birthday is in December.  What a bunch of shit!  Every year I pray for cash.  So I can buy my ungrateful kids MORE presents.  Christmas music?? Pshaw.  Unless it is “Please come home for Christmas” by Bing Crosby.  The only Christmas song I love.

I am currently trying to arrange a Christmas get together for all of my high school friends and our kids.  Mainly because one of our friends works for Bath and Body works and I want to solicit her for discounted gift certificates.  Not necessarily for gifts; my candle infatuation is quite ridiculous.  But it makes a good cover.

“Just ask her! She’ll understand- she’s Jewish too!” my best friend said when I told her my plan.

She isn’t really.  She may have married a Jew but deep down she is as Jewish as I am.  Which boils down to CHEAP.

My other best friend agreed with I’ve- got- my- shopping- done best friend.

She has five kids- twins and triplets.  And I hate Christmas more?

I do, however, LOVE Thanksgiving!!

And I just can’t seem to quit smoking….

April consistently proves to be a busy month in my household. Easter, birthdays, and spring break usually equal an eventful few weeks. This year was not an exception.
Easter fell early this year. I volunteered to host dinner because I ALWAYS volunteer to host dinner because then I can drink beer.
#1. I am a responsible parent and do not drink and drive. With the kids, anyway. Ever.
#2. No other family members usually offer beer at family functions. And if they do, it usually does not meet my standards. (Bass; or any other dark beer).
I should mention a few points here. Both of our families enjoy coming to our house for family functions because deep down they really want to drink too. (Don’t family gatherings naturally equal a deep desire to imbibe?) And even if they do not drink, the atmosphere is always more relaxed.
I remember attending a birthday party for one of my nephews before my sister graciously moved to Florida. My husband did not attend because I do not make him attend anything my sister and her douchebag husband host. I shall explain that dysfunctional relationship in a future post. My dad also attended said birthday party. About halfway through, he asked if my daughter could stay the night with him after the party. I said, “Sure!” and went to hunt down the douchebag to get a beer.
He studied the fridge much too intently before handing me the only beer the refrigerator contained. Bud Light. I shook my head, disgusted.
“No, thanks!” I futilely tried to feign politeness.
“Are you kidding me? You’re an alcoholic!” was his stupid response.
Instead of warning him, “Yeah, you grow up with my sister and see how much you drink!” since his marriage will certainly be affected sooner or later, I simply looked at my watch. Time to go.
I guarantee the douchebag has never drank a Bud light at my house. He beelines for the stocked garage refrigerator at my house every time he visits. It does not contain cheap beer.
Easter dinner just consists of the husband’s family. For obvious reasons. My Jewish family does not celebrate the resurrection of Christ. And yes, I just asked the husband while I was typing whether Easter was the resurrection or the birth of Christ.
The good Friday before Easter also marked the first day of the kids spring break. Years prior, we have gone on vacation. This year, their very short spring break started the Friday before Easter until the Wednesday after. The husband was scheduled to go back to work (YIPEE) on the 10th of April, so he and I decided to go away just the two of us for a few days.
The husband had surgery on his elbow and convalesced at home for 3 months. More accurately, he built himself a motorcycle. I think he agreed to go on a quickie vacation with me so I would like him again.
We decided on a few days in Chicago. We decided the night before we left. On Easter. My mother-in-law took the kids home with her after Easter dinner, and the husband and I left for Chicago Monday morning.
Chicago is such a fun city! The 6 hour drive was not too bad; mostly flat and not very scenic except for the hundreds of wind turbines through Indiana. And the freeway signs once we entered Chicago.
Fist of all, I made the husband Google how many drunk driving arrests were issued in Chicago per year. How the fuck do you drive drunk in Chicago?? It’s hard enough sober! Secondly, the freeway alerts blared the number of traffic deaths so far this year in the city. When we arrived on Monday, the first day of April, the sign proclaimed 222 deaths. The husband and I meandered around the city for almost 2 days. Every time (fucking often!) we heard sirens, I would say, “224!”
I know, I know…that’s morbid. Bu when we left, the sign read 226 traffic deaths so far this year. Essentially a day and a half later!
We ate well, we drank well, and we did other things well!
We came home and immediately celebrated my father-in-law’s birthday, kid #3’s birthday, and the husband’s birthday. (All within 6 days!) The real reason to celebrate?? The husband went back to work!
While we were in Chicago, he found several things he liked at the local Eddie Bauer store. “We” agreed everything he bought should be considered his birthday present.
I still felt obliged to get him something on his birthday. But what the fuck do you buy someone who buys himself whatever he wants?
I decided to blow up a picture I had taken of his motorcycle. It is, no matter how bitter I am, beautiful. The only pictures I had taken were on my phone, though, and were not good enough quality to enlarge to a poster size.
A great Father’s Day idea! But I still had no idea what to get him for his birthday.
So it is Wednesday morning. The day of his birthday. His first day back to work. I have dicked around on the computer trying to enlarge the un-enlargeable photo to the point where I am going to be even later to work than usual. The doorbell rings. Aaaaahh… the UPS guy!!
I grabbed the two packages off the front porch. I knew their contents contained parts for the husband’s motorcycle. Boxes had arrived daily for the past 3 months. I inspected the perfect-sized cardboard and knew they were the solution to my dilemma!
Yes. I sure as shit gift wrapped both boxes and left them on my kitchen table!
Watching him open his gifts later? Priceless!
He opened the first box and pulled out a chrome kickstand. His first reaction?
“How did you know?”
And then he started laughing. And remembered he married a Jew.

Things I fucking hate

1. The fact that there are only 24 hours in a day.

2. Trying, trying, and trying to quit smoking.

3. When companies discontinue products I love. Bath and Body works is my primary offender. My favorite lotion was Peace. It was part of the “Peace”, “Love”, and “Happiness” collection and came in a green bottle. I ordered it off of Ebay for a few years after it was discontinued. Then I just boycotted the fuckers for a year. Kroger no longer stocks my favorite hot cereal. Doritos stopped making their Habanero flavored chips that every male in my household loved. I even made a chicken dish with those chips!

4. My husband’s motorcycle. (This week.)

5. My family’s reluctance to refasten twist ties. Really?? The husband will twist the bread bag and pull the excess over the loaf and feel like its properly closed. As opposed to taking 3 seconds to twist the twist tie.

6. That my husband calls me the laundry fairy.

7. Items that go missing in my house which include but are not limited to: socks, hangers, Scotch tape, toenail cutters, and the home phones.

8. The empty and full syndrome. No one empties full trash cans or dishwashers. But they sure as shit leave empty toilet paper rolls and empty boxes in the cabinets. And then bitch when we run out of pop tarts. Or cereal. Or soap. Then throw the fucking package away and tell me!

9. The fact that my boobs are so small. I was ready to go run one day and came downstairs to put on my shoes. Husband looked at me and started laughing.
“Your sports bra is on backwards!”
And it fit.

10. Peeing a little when I cough. Or laugh. Or jump rope.

11. The fact that Bailey’s makes a Bailey’s FLAVORED creamer. Right up there with non-alcoholic beer. What’s the point?


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