Urges

Today I wanted to....
...drop kick a co-worker
...beer bong the coffee pot in the work room
...email respond:  "Please leave me the F* alone.  I do not give a rat's ass.  Respectfully, Ms Blither Blather"
...chain smoke
...stuff whole cupcakes in my face three at a time
...snort chocolate
...take off my bra and lay spread eagle on the bed-alone-don't even get any ideas-seriously.
...flip birds to stupid mo'er f'ers

I guess you could say, I'm pretty much over the BS.  I'm gonna make Mr B go buy me a lottery ticket tonite.  And some beer...  and a lighter.  And maybe a candy bar.

Advice

Church parking lot:  "Hey guys, we're here now, so listen up!  No cussing or lying for the next lil bit,  K???  (startled giggles from the back seat)  I'm mostly saying this for myself, but y'all can just join in, too."

And honest to God-it was a trial.  But Satan didn't win this round.

Still fighting the good fight....  barely.

Disclosure

While driving 'round town with lil brother riding shotgun, I ask him, "So what worries do you have about growing up?"  And he seriously ponders this questions.  "Living alone," he says solemnly.  Pause.  "Drinking coffee!" he says with disgust.  Another pause.  "Losing all my money in Vegas," he says with finality.

Laws, y'all...  now I'm worried!

***
Big kid and his friend were laughing at Mr B as they ambled through the house and caught him alone....watching Shrek....and drinking a beer.  Now that's an ADULT movie for ya'.

***
Mr B said he had a nightmare 'bout me (yes, that irony is rich, I know...sigh!).  We were at his gay friend's party and all the gay men criticized my clothes.  "You didn't take it well," he grimaces.  And you can bet your sweet ass, I didn't!  That dream pissed me off in real life.  I can assure you:  gay men would APPROVE of MY wardrobe!

***
Mr B was a real trooper on our Saturday shopping trip for next weekend's graduation party that we're hosting.  I drug him to Old Time Pottery, Dollar Tree, Party City, and Jo Ann's Fabrics (those quilting ladies are hard core!).  Anyhoo...  I only had to give him the beady eye once (which is one step down from the crazy eye but just as unpredictable)...  and he did straighten up and fly right and stop hustling me and nay-saying 'bout all the sh*t I was buying..for awhile...before he starting getting all explicit 'bout the sex'shal favors I was gonna have to perform for all this shopping (*eye roll*).  However, last stop was the local liquor store, and he did perk up when talking to the Indian owner 'bout sizes and prices and types of beer kegs.  So once home, I put the remote in his hands and turned on the History Channel and promised to leave him alone....  for a little while!

We are so PROUD of our graduate, Mr Magnum Cum Laud! 

Love you, bunny!

Disclosure

1234  check

Church Fight

Confession:  Mr B and I were mad as DIRT at each other today at church.  As a matter o' fact we had a good ole fashioned car fight and just carried it on into the building.  It was all I could do not to beat him over the head with my Bible while yelling wordy dirds that'd scare the be-Jesus outta those ol' hoitty toitty Christians.  We were even having words during the singing-which is one of the few times I've been grateful for that irritatin' as hell contemporary music-drums an all-for God's sake.  Anyhoo....  Mr B said some words to me that I prob'ly shouldn't repeat (but I will!) that were along the lines of my being a crazy @ss psycho who needed to just SHUT UP! for one f'n minute....  which really got my tea kettle steaming and made me think EVIL thoughts in ancient Hebrew 'bout lighting the sacrificial fires and roasting a man on the altar.  But since I don't carry matches, I just gave him the silent treatment instead-which we all know means imminent death in woman psychology.  Long story short:  Mr B later apologizes at home for being an @sshole and gives me a suffocating man-hug while trying to feel me up under my skirt.  This type of man-pology is very effective since it makes one forget philosophical differences when fighting off sexual advances.  So against my will, I was starting to thaw out a smidge when he pronounces that he's figured out why we're fighting in the first place-which according to him is all my fault-since Judy TAMPONELLI is on her way to our house to stay for a week...  Y'all KNOW these are fighting words.  But I decide it's my Christian duty to forgive him...  since he might be right.

Death Wish

So lil brother comes down to br'fast in boxers, no shirt, and rooster hair and wants to know if I won the lottery and only had 10 days left to live if I would want to go to the beach...

And I say no, probably not, I would just stay home and be in my dirty house with the irritatin' people I love...  and I wouldn't even make him clean house at all, but I would probably still do laundry...

And he pressures me some more.  "Are you surrrrrre you wouldn't want to go to a beach house...???"

Again I defer.  So he says, "Mmmmkay.  We'll just go after you're dead then."  And he ambles off to watch cartoons leaving me to contemplate the bitter irony of winning the lottery, living in a dirty house with selfish people, and NOT going to the beach when I had the chance!

!#$%F!

Tit for Tat

In GIANT chalk letters scrawled on the driveway for all the world to read, lil brother writes this proclamation:   MY MOM POOPS ON THE POTY (sic)!

And of course Mr B insists that I walk out there to read this message.... in my bathrobe, mind you.  And of course the first thing that irritates me (besides being escorted outside in my robe by a chuckling man) is the misspelling, not necessarily the message-which is accurate although impolite.  So I holler in lil brother and interrupt his play time so we can have a convo (I do all the talking-FYI) in my bedroom with him standing nervously in the doorway while I lounge on my mountain of coordinated pillows.
 
Me:  Hey, so I read your message 'bout me on the driveway..."  He starts to look a lil uncomfortable although a grin is tugging at the corners of his mouth...  but he doesn't trust my sweet, purring voice...  "So this is what I'm gonna do.  I'm gonna write a Facebook post 'bout you that all my friends can read and it's gonna say this:  LIL BROTHER WATCHES TV WITH HIS HANDS IN HIS PANTS!  Oh, and I'm sure the Easter Bunny is gonna have to downgrade your basket this year too...

Lil brother (fighting panic):  Nuh huh!!!  I don't do that ALL the time...  And you're not the boss of the Easter Bunny!

Me:  Ohhhhhhhh,  really.......  mmmmmm-kkkkkkkkkay.

Lil while later:  The message is still there, but lil brother has marked giant X's through the word MOM.

FYI-that damn bunny did indeed show up with a ridiculous basket full of goodies.  Guess I'm not the boss of it.  But I ain't telling lil brother THAT.