Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Normally my kid saying 'bitch' would've been the highlight of the evening. But not tonight...oh no...

My husband thinks he's quite hilarious.  Isn't it annoying when people think they're funny and they're NOT?  Yeah, I hate that...  *Ahem*  Anyway, he's a douche taco.  He does all of this obnoxious crap that's supposed to be funny but really just makes me want to back over him in a monster truck.  (A blue one.  I don't know why, but when I envision it, it's always blue.  With spinners.)  Tonight, for example, he thought it would be funny to trip me.  I was just walking past and he stuck his asshole foot out (while giggling like a four-year-old girl) and tripped me.  I fell directly into the door and severely bruised the last unfrayed nerve I possessed at the time.  Jackass.

So I did what anyone would do: I began to plot my revenge.  It started out simple.  I calmly walked to the counter, picked up my glass of ice water, and dumped it all over him.  Then he called me an un-nice word under his breath.  I didn't hear it and asked him to repeat it.  Mackenzie said, "Bitch.  He called you a bitch."  Nice.  

This meant war.  Oh yes.  Not long after that the UPS dude came and left some of my kids' 1,387,002 presents from Santa on the porch.  I told Scott they were heavy and he needed to go get them and bring them in.  Dumbass fell for it.  I locked him out.  He was in his underwear.  Take that punk.  

When I finally let him in he was kinda pissed.  It may have had something to do with the fact that he was outside in the cold in his underwear covered in the ice water I'd dumped all over him.  Or maybe it was something else.  He's a moody motherfucker.  He got over it quickly though (it was probably the Midol I've been crushing up in his beer), and he thought it was all over.  Rookie.

The kids went to bed at 8:30.  And again at 9:15, 9:23, 10:02 and 10:47.  At that point they were told that if they came out again they'd have to go live in the attic with their oft-discussed but not yet seen banished older sister Rachel.  They're pretty sure she's not real, but with our level of crazy I'm betting they feel like they can't be sure.  All the better.  Anyway, the hubs got in the shower and left his phone on the bed.  He makes it too easy.  I quickly deleted all of the little icons on his home page.  Next, I removed the card with all of his pictures on it, deleted them, and put the card back in.  (I saved the pictures to the computer, I'm not a monster.)  I did everything I could to make the phone look all sorts of jacked up.  He spent the next hour on the phone with customer support complaining about his phone having a virus!  It was GLORIOUS!  And me?  I just sat here chatting with friends on Facebook while pretending to research smartphone viruses.  I'm helpful like that.  Eventually I let him off the hook and we had a good laugh before he fell asleep.  But I think he got the message, which is: 

Dude, your wife is bat shit crazy.  

1 comment:

  1. Holy cow. Don't let me get on your bad side! Not that I would do any of those juvenile things like trip you to start with.

    My hubby is notorious for not turning on the outside lights when I'm out late. Granted, that doesn't happen. In return the next he's out late he would find it just as dark, but because the lightbulb was loose. Mysteriously.

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