It is my home, my neighborhood, and my history. It is what I am and where I came from. Embarrassing? Yes Boring? Never

Friday, May 9, 2008

Life's Like a Bag of M&M's (the kind with nuts)

Okay, got to tell you, I am a little drunk right now. So this may not be the cohesive letter I have ever typed, but I seriously needed to calm myself down. I seem to be in yet another downward spiral and it s ever so annoying. Although they do prove to be very entertaining afterward, they are most trying to go through. Yet again I interview for another position for which I am qualified, and it appears I have yet again, lost out to someone sleeping with a manager. (okay it is a wife of a director, so technically she is allowed to sleep with him, but it does give me justification to complain) Whine, wine, whine. …

My dogs are not letting me type. When I have the lap top on my lap, they think I am petting it and they get all jealous and start barking and pulling my hands and rubbing on the keyboard. It is slightly amusing. Right now if I was in an interview I would be asking you if you have dogs and if they are jealous and before you know it, I would have your life story and we would be B.F.F.’s. which seems to be my pattern. Then you would call me and tell me about how great the other people were and ask my opinion….

I just notice that my husband is not drinking, not a drop but is steadily refilling mine. That is because when I have been drinking, I am less likely to be annoyed by his breathing, by his presence and his constant channel changing. Not that I yell at him or anything, but I do get incredible agitated and tend to target something that is not really the problem For example, the worst I actually every blew up at him was over a stupid bag of M&M’s, actually both the worst screaming fits I ever through were over the M&M;s. Peanut M&M;s. He was eating them in his chair, one by one, ..

Sorry I had to stop and get Buster’s ball, because it rolled under dad’s end table . His OCD (Buster’s not dad’s) will not let him leave that ball and get another one. Oh no, he will scratch and dig and cry until you get it or he passes out from exhaustion. Dad turn’s off his hearing aids and I get stuck listening to it until I get up and retrieve the ball. Where was I?
Okay ,so Dad was eating these stupid candies, for like, ½ hour, when he turns to me and asks (with way more seriousness than when we discussed getting married, buying a house, or what to do about bailing out one of my relatives) how he wondered what flavor the blue ones were. I could not help myself, it was so idiotic that I just started screaming, THEY ARE NOT FLAVORS, THEY ARE COLORS. I think I may have grabbed the bag and flung them about the house. I am getting incensed just thinking of it right now. I just glared at him, actually caught myself burning him with my eye ball lasers. I may have to scream it again. …
Stupid dog now has to go out. I have to turn the light on because Duke is afraid to go out onto the porch without the light.

The other M&M drama, was the night we went to the ware house club and bought a ginormous bag of the candy, which he immediately took to our bedroom, so that the kids would not dare eat any. That night I fall asleep to the steady munching of peanuts smothered in scrumptious chocolate. I awoke several hours later and reached around to scratch my back when I found s substance smeared against my back. Now we have a water bed, not because we are some swinging, hipster couple but because there was once a near death experience with a 40 year old mattress (Oh, I will save that story for a more sober evening!) . So between the warmth of my sleeping body and the heat of the bed, the substance felt warm and was a dark color and for a few minutes I thought I had touched feces. Long enough of a thought for me to bolt upright and scream bloody murder and flip on the light to find….

Sorry, cat wanted in now, and we had barking as a door bell, and Dad still has his aids off and did not hear the announcement. Or the pitch has finally reached the point where only some people that can actually hear them.

Back to the feces. I flip on the light whilst screaming and found my husband in a near fatal M&M coma, with a 5 pound bag of M&M’s all over the bed, stuck to me , imbedded in my skin, and stuck all in his chest hair. There was more screaming by him, when he woke up and nearly choked on the ½ eaten peanut in his mouth. There were multicolored stains on the sheets and his chest (by the way, the color is amazingly resilient to soap when cooked into cloth and skin). I started freaking out , jumping around and hollering that he was completely insane and should just eat the rest of them and die. Which granted was not nice, and something you should not say to ones life partner, but I lost it. I forbade M&M’s from being in the house for about a year after that.

Now it is raining and the cat and Duke want to go out again, and Buster is checking the end table incase there is a ball there. And I have another drink, and dad has not changed the channel in about 10 minutes, and I may buy him M&M’s tomorrow. It is going to be a very busy day, because we have to go to my nieces babies’ birthday party tomorrow and she just got off probation and there is a big celebration planned. And I have just found out my favorite of my ex-sister in laws (okay, there are a total of 10, my two brothers were very popular with the ladies) has cancer, and I am cooking for mothers day, and well, I think it best if I have another drink.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tell your story about the burnning bed!