It was a busy week up here in the Canadiana. I tell you my locale because you will surely figure that out as I tell you a tale of my Thanksgiving weekend (which might seem to have come a bit early for most of our readers) in which we gave thanks to a yummy turkey, brussel sprouts, a broccoli and cheese dish, and all the other trimmings you can well imagine
First, let me tell you, I am a hard working woman. I have two children, I work full time, and I maintain my home (vacuum, sweep, laundry, dishes, pets, children... oh don't get me going!) So, when I choose to wear my sweats (which by the way, are nice looking sporty cute kinda sweats) and a hot looking white t-shirt for 3 days in a row, I don't think that should be looked upon as unsavory. Can I get a "Hell Ya!"?
So, on my third day on said sweats and well... unwashed hair, I lacked the feeling of love from my man. As I slaved over his turkey and fix'ns, he failed to appreciate that which he should appreciate in any form- my essence; my, oh so, womanly essence.
I did him the favor of taking the words out of his mouth and saying, "aren't I sexy baby?" waving my unwashed long locks to and fro, and that man, my man, had the nerve to say "ya..."
Fucking liar. Who the hell does he think he is?
That's okay though, I'm a forgiving woman. I let that one go. But, after all night of me not really showing up on his 'hey baby' radar, I asked for his undivided attention. It was the end of the night, the last of the kids went to bed. I said "come baby, put you computer away and sit with me." He closed the lid of this laptop and said, "yeah, time for bed."
"No baby," I said. "Lets hang out and watch TV and massage feet," as I sat, visibly eating my pumpkin pie.
"Yeah..." he says, non committaly, and heads upstairs. I see he goes to the bathroom. I'll wait. Then, it takes too long, so I look upstairs. Where is he?
"Where you at baby?" I ask.
"Folding clothes" he replies from he bedroom. Oh, I think, okay.
"You coming down? I thought we were watching TV down here?" I ask happily.
And, I'm pretty sure I got - ya, just putting these clothes away type of response. When he still didn't come down I went up and found him in bed. "What are you doing?"
"What? I thought we were going to bed?"
"Fine, fuck it" I spit out in my venomous way. Son of a bitch. It was one thing when he told me I looked hot when I didn't (fuckin' liar), it's another to fuck'n punk me off and, frankly, embarrass me! Mother. Fucker.fuck you- I. don't. need. you. I huff my way down back to my comfy couch and throw lightening at him with my mind.
At 2am I wake up and stumble into bed only to wake up at 4 to no man lying beside me. Clearly! Clearly, he doesn't love me anymore, he can't stand my sweat pant wearing ass and was horrified to sleep beside me. He's having an affair, he met someone else, he doesn't love me. Son of a bitch! I raise myself up out of bed aiming to fix one stupid mother fucker.
"What are you doing?" I say as he rolls over at the sound of my feet. He looks at me with a lovely softness and lovely genuinely loving voice and says "you were just too gassy... I had to come down stairs"(see bold turkey dinner items).
"Wha?" I give one shake of my head, "What?"
"Oh... I don't know what's wrong, or what you ate, you just had, like, really bad gas. I just couldn't take it anymore" he says nicely with a crinkled nose.
Oh no. You. Di-n't! Did you just tell me that my beautiful behind is spouting a noxious gas that is beyond your capabilities to handle as A MAN?
"Are you all done being gassy do you think?" he says in his sweet I don't want to embarrass you voice. Mother. Fucker. "I'll come to bed" he says.
"Oh, don't do me any favors- I wont be offended" I tell him after I har-ruffed and turned my back to him."
"Won't you?" he asks nicely.
"I probably will!" I say like Linda Blair as I walk into our bedroom and shut the door on him, who is about 2 feet behind me. Take that, mo fo.
To attempt to make a long story short. I told him in no uncertain terms that he was an ass and that he LIED to me and went to bed without clearly inviting me. He said he thought we were both going to bed, that when he said "lets go to bed (making a fucky fucky motion) that he thought I said "yeah."
I asked him how the fuck he got "yeah" out of "No baby, ... Lets hang out and watch TV and massage feet," as I sat, visibly eating my pumpkin pie.
He said, "I dunno." Typical fucking BOY. So, of course, he was punishing me for wearing the same sweat pants and t-shirt for 3 days and not looking hot. I'll show him I say to myself when I wake up the next day. We're both getting ready for our day, and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I will get his positive attention if I put on those jeans. You know, those jeans that separate the east and west of my vagina like a slick through the port o' call. That little bastard.
So, I walk down stairs with my vagina on display through my jeans, and my breasts bouncing freely through my shirt, unbound. Sure enough, that bastards head shot up on cue. I sauntered my fine self around aloofly until he came up and said proudly "you look very nice today" and smiled.
"Ya, that's what I thought you would say" I hissed at him as I threw the bread back in the freezer. He stupidly looked stunned and said, "Well, I just saw that you made an effort."
You. could.hear.a.pin.drop.
Little fucker walked right into my trap, and then shot himself in the mouth. Stupid boy.
How dare he compliment me when I change out of my 3 day sweats and t-shirt look, wash my hair, apply some make up, and flaunt my sweet (apparently noxious) ass in his face. HOW DARE HE?! How dare he not immerse himself in my stench in the name of chivalry? And, after all this time, how dare he not just say, "I'm sorry honey, I was wrong, I wont do that again." ?
After all this time, he still doesn't get that when he acts like a boy and pulls out some selective hearing bullshit, that I am going to be, undeniably, a girrrrl? A trait that I do recall him being grateful for many a lonely night- by the by!
First, let me tell you, I am a hard working woman. I have two children, I work full time, and I maintain my home (vacuum, sweep, laundry, dishes, pets, children... oh don't get me going!) So, when I choose to wear my sweats (which by the way, are nice looking sporty cute kinda sweats) and a hot looking white t-shirt for 3 days in a row, I don't think that should be looked upon as unsavory. Can I get a "Hell Ya!"?
So, on my third day on said sweats and well... unwashed hair, I lacked the feeling of love from my man. As I slaved over his turkey and fix'ns, he failed to appreciate that which he should appreciate in any form- my essence; my, oh so, womanly essence.
I did him the favor of taking the words out of his mouth and saying, "aren't I sexy baby?" waving my unwashed long locks to and fro, and that man, my man, had the nerve to say "ya..."
Fucking liar. Who the hell does he think he is?
That's okay though, I'm a forgiving woman. I let that one go. But, after all night of me not really showing up on his 'hey baby' radar, I asked for his undivided attention. It was the end of the night, the last of the kids went to bed. I said "come baby, put you computer away and sit with me." He closed the lid of this laptop and said, "yeah, time for bed."
"No baby," I said. "Lets hang out and watch TV and massage feet," as I sat, visibly eating my pumpkin pie.
"Yeah..." he says, non committaly, and heads upstairs. I see he goes to the bathroom. I'll wait. Then, it takes too long, so I look upstairs. Where is he?
"Where you at baby?" I ask.
"Folding clothes" he replies from he bedroom. Oh, I think, okay.
"You coming down? I thought we were watching TV down here?" I ask happily.
And, I'm pretty sure I got - ya, just putting these clothes away type of response. When he still didn't come down I went up and found him in bed. "What are you doing?"
"What? I thought we were going to bed?"
"Fine, fuck it" I spit out in my venomous way. Son of a bitch. It was one thing when he told me I looked hot when I didn't (fuckin' liar), it's another to fuck'n punk me off and, frankly, embarrass me! Mother. Fucker.fuck you- I. don't. need. you. I huff my way down back to my comfy couch and throw lightening at him with my mind.
At 2am I wake up and stumble into bed only to wake up at 4 to no man lying beside me. Clearly! Clearly, he doesn't love me anymore, he can't stand my sweat pant wearing ass and was horrified to sleep beside me. He's having an affair, he met someone else, he doesn't love me. Son of a bitch! I raise myself up out of bed aiming to fix one stupid mother fucker.
"What are you doing?" I say as he rolls over at the sound of my feet. He looks at me with a lovely softness and lovely genuinely loving voice and says "you were just too gassy... I had to come down stairs"(see bold turkey dinner items).
"Wha?" I give one shake of my head, "What?"
"Oh... I don't know what's wrong, or what you ate, you just had, like, really bad gas. I just couldn't take it anymore" he says nicely with a crinkled nose.
Oh no. You. Di-n't! Did you just tell me that my beautiful behind is spouting a noxious gas that is beyond your capabilities to handle as A MAN?
"Are you all done being gassy do you think?" he says in his sweet I don't want to embarrass you voice. Mother. Fucker. "I'll come to bed" he says.
"Oh, don't do me any favors- I wont be offended" I tell him after I har-ruffed and turned my back to him."
"Won't you?" he asks nicely.
"I probably will!" I say like Linda Blair as I walk into our bedroom and shut the door on him, who is about 2 feet behind me. Take that, mo fo.
To attempt to make a long story short. I told him in no uncertain terms that he was an ass and that he LIED to me and went to bed without clearly inviting me. He said he thought we were both going to bed, that when he said "lets go to bed (making a fucky fucky motion) that he thought I said "yeah."
I asked him how the fuck he got "yeah" out of "No baby, ... Lets hang out and watch TV and massage feet," as I sat, visibly eating my pumpkin pie.
He said, "I dunno." Typical fucking BOY. So, of course, he was punishing me for wearing the same sweat pants and t-shirt for 3 days and not looking hot. I'll show him I say to myself when I wake up the next day. We're both getting ready for our day, and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I will get his positive attention if I put on those jeans. You know, those jeans that separate the east and west of my vagina like a slick through the port o' call. That little bastard.
So, I walk down stairs with my vagina on display through my jeans, and my breasts bouncing freely through my shirt, unbound. Sure enough, that bastards head shot up on cue. I sauntered my fine self around aloofly until he came up and said proudly "you look very nice today" and smiled.
"Ya, that's what I thought you would say" I hissed at him as I threw the bread back in the freezer. He stupidly looked stunned and said, "Well, I just saw that you made an effort."
You. could.hear.a.pin.drop.
Little fucker walked right into my trap, and then shot himself in the mouth. Stupid boy.
How dare he compliment me when I change out of my 3 day sweats and t-shirt look, wash my hair, apply some make up, and flaunt my sweet (apparently noxious) ass in his face. HOW DARE HE?! How dare he not immerse himself in my stench in the name of chivalry? And, after all this time, how dare he not just say, "I'm sorry honey, I was wrong, I wont do that again." ?
After all this time, he still doesn't get that when he acts like a boy and pulls out some selective hearing bullshit, that I am going to be, undeniably, a girrrrl? A trait that I do recall him being grateful for many a lonely night- by the by!
Errrrr!
The moral of this long winded story. I don't stink. Boys, however, do!
Hrmmphf!
The moral of this long winded story. I don't stink. Boys, however, do!
Hrmmphf!
3 comments:
ha! that's hysterical!
that's why we have seperate bedrooms. I know it's weird but it works for us.
Farting. That was fun. I wish I'd not been working all day so I could have read it this morning, when my raging PMS was making me bit people on their necks.
Perfect post! Why can't guys just deal?
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