I signed a contract to provide a three-hour video on computer programming. I thought it was going to be easy, but I need to be a flawless typist and I need to speak intelligently while typing.
But I’m not a flawless typist at all. Compared to some of the other teachers, I’m downright slow. Working on this course has been pure pain.
So type first and add voice-over later.
I love how illnesses target the most inopportune time to crop up. Today, I had my nice work pants on and was all ready to drive into the office and meet my new team for lunch. Until my daughter staggered out of her room with an intense stomach ache and began vomiting. Poor kid. I can’t be mad at her, and vomit doesn’t really care whether I’m supposed to be somewhere or not. But holy shit, the one day I needed to go in.
I tried waking my husband to tell him he was up this time, but he said he had a required in-person meeting. When he got up (after the vomiting crisis had passed), I’d already let the team know I couldn’t get in lunch today. But, he told me I should call them back because he didn’t remember saying he had a required lunch meeting and I should’ve tried harder.
What the fuck? So many things wrong with that statement. You’re a goddamn adult. When dealing with a vomiting kid, there is only so much time I can dedicate to waking your ass up to tell you what’s going on. Given that the damage was already done and driving in would make me late to numerous other conference calls I had scheduled, the moment I could’ve reasonably driven in was already past. I’m sure this is going to make a delightful impression.
Oh, well - overlygirl has been passed out on the couch under a blanket for the last two hours so I’ve been hiding in the bedroom during conference calls so I don’t wake her up, then working where I can see her. I hope she wakes up soon so we can try some sips of water. I hate when either of my kids is hurting.
That may help explain why you’ve never taken a baseball bat to your husband. You don’t want to see him hurting, even when he does something which really deserves a nice dose of hurt.
It always amazes me how much Moms can juggle and men stand around with their mouth hanging open and waiting to be given orders and instructions. ( not talking about you Dad’s who step up).
It amazes me how many women get this “I’m the mother and I’m in charge and my husband needs to get the hell out of my way, do things when I tell him to do them and just shut up and deal with it” attitude that leads their husbands to step back and wait to be told to do something so that their wives don’t scream at them.
Happy wife=Happy life.
Overlygirl is apparently right as rain now, thank goodness. I guess all’s well when the vomiting ends?
I’m on the fence as to the appropriate level of aggravation. On the one hand, we agreed on what to do the next time (i.e., this time) one of the kids got sick. Said agreement included me waking the husband, asking him for help and him giving help. I woke him up - or thought I did since we were having a conversation - asked for help and did not receive help. In less emergent circumstances I might’ve continued to nudge him, but needed to disinfect the bathroom, which had previously been covered in vomit, so gave it up as a lost cause and bleached the bathroom instead.
In his defense, I honestly think the guy has a medical condition of some sort. I’ve never met anyone who requires the amount of time he does to wake up. The man has literally slept through a marching band. A parade went by our house one day - on our quiet, suburban road - complete with brass band and drums and the guy just slept the entire time. So I don’t think it was a deliberate, douchey, selfish act, but damn was it frustrating as hell, and after all the vomit I’d like to think that some level of aggravation is a-ok.
The mini-est part of this whole rant, though, is that I finally had a chance to prank her for April Fool’s (something she loves, but her brother hates) and she missed it! I froze her cereal, with milk & spoon in the freezer overnight, and I’m pretty sure she would’ve found it hysterical. Unfortunately, she decided to grab a handful of cheerios this morning to try and settle her stomach, and guess what she threw up? Now she hates cheerios. Fucking one hit wonders. Damn you, weird-ass coincidences! I guess I’ll just have to find something else to freeze.
That’s incredibly sexist. So, in order for a marriage to work, the husband needs to keep the wife happy? Where is the wife’s part in creating her own happiness within the relationship?
Now I understand why I hate all those sitcoms where the husband is a buffoon and the wife is the “smart one”.
I know, I was being facetious. :). Sorry it irritated you.
Dear Toxic Person,
I have blocked you from my life. I have no blood (real or otherwise) or contractual connection to you and I have no obligation to put up with your shit, and neither does my husband.
I hope your new caretakers can help you, but probably not. You will continue to refuse to do what the doctor needs you to do, ‘forget’ to take your anti-psychotic meds, and be a complete cunt to everyone who has ever tried to help you. You have PTSD? Fine - get real treatment. You have some sort of brain swelling? Fine - do what your doctor needs you to do so that the surgeon can evaluate you correctly. But all you have done for the last year is (literally) cry, whine, bitch, moan, complain that no one loves you or takes care of you or understands your pain and suffering and mental trama; actively resisting all suggestions and offers of solutions while the love of my life care(d) for you like you were family.
I never really liked you, I pegged you as a manipulative leech from the first, but you managed to activate my husband’s ‘rescuer’ gene and took advantage of his kindness.
Fuck you toxic person.
I’ll miss your dog, though.
So fuck off toxic person.
I’ll miss your dog.
FUCK YOU WINDOWS 10 SUPERFETCH
“Improves system performance” my ass.
I just disabled it because I’m fucking tired of this program eating 100% of my drive I/O and stopping me from using the fucking computer. Here this has been happening so much that I ran several anti-virus programs just to see what was spinning my drive so furiously.
Where can we apply for your Canine Thievery Task Force?
Fucking Cunts always have the best excuses for why you should put up with their shit. 
Completely selfish, directly. I’ve heard different versions of it, all of them from people who were abusive towards their spouses or children.
No wonder why my husband and BILs are among the most helpful, most we’re-partners-in-this-marriage types in direct contrast to my FIL whose main objective, back in those years, was simply to be the breadwinner so my MIL could raise the kids.
I have a 52-mile commute. Today it took an hour and 40 minutes, and amazingly, that’s not the rant.
No, the rant is that the entire commute was covered in thick, dense fog, and despite this, I saw no fewer than 100 cars without lights of any kind on.
PEOPLE. It’s *really *hard to see you when it’s this foggy. I don’t care if the sun is up, TURN ON YOUR FUCKING LIGHTS.
Why is it that, during pollen season, there’s always that one asshat who regards you with disgust every time you sneeze or cough, sometimes going so far as to say something like “Ew, do you have a cold?”
I start taking applications next week. 
(I have no idea why the last part of my rant repeated itself. Computers is weird)
Five degrees outside. Feels like -7. On April 4.
I can’t be the only one thinking that global warming needs to hurry up and get its fucking act together.
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