Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Clearly, I have returned to The Real World. Once again I am clinging to sanity by my unmanicured nails. My plane arrived 5 minutes early, but we had to sit on the tarmac until a gate opened up. By the time I reached the security area where the crowds are allowed to wait for arrivals, it was 5 minutes past my scheduled arrival. Shitfoot was grumpy because they'd been waiting for *40 whole minutes*. And somehow I'm supposed to care. We went to dinner, during which he spoke less than 10 words (all of which could easily be classified as complaints or whining). Just general prickishness all around. The kids are extremely wound up, naturally, which makes them very difficult to be around without losing one's temper.
I've spent the waking hours since I returned home attempting to hide all evidence of my new tattoo.
I decided the time was right to celebrate my divorce by permanently marring the appearance of my body. What better way than to carve the image of a bird rising from the ashes and flames of my ass crack? I also decided that it's really none of Shitfoot's business, and I'd like to see how long I can keep it from him. It's nice having secrets from him, especially since this secret, in particular, is completely meaningless and unimportant. My ass crack, my tattoo, my decision. So poop on him.
This morning's routine was back to the basics: momcanyougetmesomecereal momwhereismybelt momIspilledsomemilk momwherearemyshorts momcanyoubrushmyhair momIwantedtwoponytailsnotonebuttwojustlikeKatiedoeshers (all the while Shitfoot is snoozing away, waiting to get up til the very last minute)
By the time I got to the hair brushing routine, I had used up all the "extra time" I'd allotted myself by getting up early so I'd get to school on time for a change. I hurriedly brushed DD's hair, but it was full of knots and she whined about me pulling too hard. I slowed down to be more gentle, only to discover the source of the problem. Not a knot. Not a wad of half-eaten Gummy Bears or Hubba Bubba. No, it was a big, FAT tick. [skin crawling just recalling it] I knew she would FA-REAK out if I said anything, so I quickly grabbed a kleenex and yanked it out [hurl]. Of course once it was out I recalled thinking you're not supposed to do that, but I was far too tired, too stressed, and too FA-REAKED out to remember why. Big fat nastyass tick sucking on my baby's head. Damned filthy beast. Go away for a weekend and come home this?? Geez, how long had it been there?? I sent her to get her school things ready, and brought my new prize into Shitfoot's room to wake him up. "Put on your glasses." I ordered. He groggily complied and I shoved it in his face. "This was in your daughter's hair." He recoiled in horror, "Aaaaaa! Kill it! KILL IT, it's still alive!!" Well DUH. "When was the last time that girl had a bath??? Don't you brush her HAIR when I'm not here???" "I don't know."
I'm starting to feel sleepy... NOOOOO!! If I can get through work tonight with enough energy, I plan to meet Rusty tonight. Just for a bit, of course. We have neither the time or finances to do anything big or complicated. I didn't tell him, but I'd be happy just to sit in McDonald's and talk, maybe steal a kiss or two in the parking lot like a couple of teenagers, LOL. Oh who am I kidding? If I wasn't afraid I'd get arrested, I'd strap him down in that car and fuck him like a porn star til we both collapsed from exhaustion. Oh my, did I just say that out loud? Now the whole world knows. Good thing y'all don't know where we meet...
Conversation with Shitfoot, only moments ago:
Was I supposed to feel bad at some point in that sentence? Was it supposed to make me stand up and say, "Wait!! I'm so sorry for oppressing you! Please allow me to do the housework and yardwork for you. To hell with my job, they're all a bunch of losers anyway, right? You don't deserve to be burdened with such menial tasks. Everything is all my fault!!"
And another interesting quote:
things that make you go 'hmmmmmmm'...
I've spent the waking hours since I returned home attempting to hide all evidence of my new tattoo.
Tattoos: They're not just for sailors and whores anymore!
I decided the time was right to celebrate my divorce by permanently marring the appearance of my body. What better way than to carve the image of a bird rising from the ashes and flames of my ass crack? I also decided that it's really none of Shitfoot's business, and I'd like to see how long I can keep it from him. It's nice having secrets from him, especially since this secret, in particular, is completely meaningless and unimportant. My ass crack, my tattoo, my decision. So poop on him.
This morning's routine was back to the basics: momcanyougetmesomecereal momwhereismybelt momIspilledsomemilk momwherearemyshorts momcanyoubrushmyhair momIwantedtwoponytailsnotonebuttwojustlikeKatiedoeshers (all the while Shitfoot is snoozing away, waiting to get up til the very last minute)
By the time I got to the hair brushing routine, I had used up all the "extra time" I'd allotted myself by getting up early so I'd get to school on time for a change. I hurriedly brushed DD's hair, but it was full of knots and she whined about me pulling too hard. I slowed down to be more gentle, only to discover the source of the problem. Not a knot. Not a wad of half-eaten Gummy Bears or Hubba Bubba. No, it was a big, FAT tick. [skin crawling just recalling it] I knew she would FA-REAK out if I said anything, so I quickly grabbed a kleenex and yanked it out [hurl]. Of course once it was out I recalled thinking you're not supposed to do that, but I was far too tired, too stressed, and too FA-REAKED out to remember why. Big fat nastyass tick sucking on my baby's head. Damned filthy beast. Go away for a weekend and come home this?? Geez, how long had it been there?? I sent her to get her school things ready, and brought my new prize into Shitfoot's room to wake him up. "Put on your glasses." I ordered. He groggily complied and I shoved it in his face. "This was in your daughter's hair." He recoiled in horror, "Aaaaaa! Kill it! KILL IT, it's still alive!!" Well DUH. "When was the last time that girl had a bath??? Don't you brush her HAIR when I'm not here???" "I don't know."
I'm starting to feel sleepy... NOOOOO!! If I can get through work tonight with enough energy, I plan to meet Rusty tonight. Just for a bit, of course. We have neither the time or finances to do anything big or complicated. I didn't tell him, but I'd be happy just to sit in McDonald's and talk, maybe steal a kiss or two in the parking lot like a couple of teenagers, LOL. Oh who am I kidding? If I wasn't afraid I'd get arrested, I'd strap him down in that car and fuck him like a porn star til we both collapsed from exhaustion. Oh my, did I just say that out loud? Now the whole world knows. Good thing y'all don't know where we meet...
Conversation with Shitfoot, only moments ago:
"I think this weekend, I'll give YOU the pleasure of mowing the backyard. I think it's YOUR turn."
"Sure, I'll do it. On my day off."
[sarcastically] "Ooooooooooh, playing the WORK card. Well FINE, [turns and stomps off] I'll remember that, when I'm out there sweating my BALLS off, picking up all those damned sticks and having all those cicadas flying at me."
Was I supposed to feel bad at some point in that sentence? Was it supposed to make me stand up and say, "Wait!! I'm so sorry for oppressing you! Please allow me to do the housework and yardwork for you. To hell with my job, they're all a bunch of losers anyway, right? You don't deserve to be burdened with such menial tasks. Everything is all my fault!!"
And another interesting quote:
"S, put that shirt in your dirty laundry, don't leave it on the couch!! [note, she was still in the process of getting dressed] It's not a dirty laundry couch. The dirty clothes belong in your room in the laundry basket. How long have I been yelling at you for this now? 5 years?? Aren't you sick of hearing me yell? Even *I* don't like hearing me yell."
things that make you go 'hmmmmmmm'...
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