Background to gripe: I like to go to all the Saints home games, whereas my husband does not.
When I asked my husband very delicately if I could take one of my guy friends from work to a Saints game this season, he spat out ‘you ain’t going to a game with some dude!’
Jawohl, mein herr! Fuckin’ great. Here’s to sitting at home.:mad:
Good grief, noLAFIN. That’s a serious relationship red flag right there. Like, bright red flashing lights and earsplitting sirens kind of a red flag.
Is individual and/or couples counseling something either or both of you might consider?
Really? Is it that bad? I have no other relationships to compare mine to, so sometimes I don’t know the levels of dysfunction.
I just know this really pissed me off.
My husband asked me yesterday whether I’d like to take a little vacation this summer - just the two of us. “Sure,” I says. “That sounds like a great idea! Where do you have in mind?”
“I’d like to go visit my friend N. Haven’t seen her in years. She’d love to meet you.”
“Hmm, well that sounds okay. Where does she live?”
(Wait for it. This is really good.)
(No, really.)
(Y’all ain’t gonna believe this shit.)
Fort Riley, Kansas.
My husband wants us to drive from SE Georgia, to Middle Of Freaking Nowhere, Kansas, in order to spend three days with someone I’ve never met, nor even talked to on the phone, nor even friended on Facebook, for pity’s sake. And then back. Four days in the car, three days of Junction City Kansas. Woo fucking hoo.
(Apologies to those of you who live in and love Kansas. I’ve been there - lots of nice folks. Cute little zoo in Topeka. But there’s a god-awful amount of vast NOTHING in Kansas. I can’t think of many places I’d rank below Fort Riley Kansas for a relaxing little vacation.)
It doesn’t have to be the end of the world, but controlling your behavior and not trusting you to go to a public place with a male friend can seem a little off. I’m guessing he would not have reacted like that if the friend had been woman, given that you knew you had to walk on eggshells to even ask the question of going to a ball game with “some dude”.
If this was a weird or one time thing, I would not worry. If there’s a pattern in his controlling who you socialize with, or if he tries to prevent you from seeing your family and female friends, I’d worry a bit. Removing someone from their support structure is a classic first step towards abuse (but it’s not a requirement for abuse, so don’t panic needlessly.)
I’ll assume you’re both adults.
It is NOT healthy for one partner to have to ask permission to socialize with someone other than their partner, nor is it at all healthy for one partner to try to control the other’s friendships or activities. Your guy sounds seriously insecure if he gets that mad that you might want to do something in a public setting with a male friend.
Okay, I’m getting confused. Was this about a game you had to miss during the 2012-2013 season, or one that you want to plan on for the 2013-2014 season?
'Cos (don’t hold me to accuracy on this) I don’t think we’re within spitting distance of another Saints home game THIS month.
Dear art lecturer,
While I approve of the college’s decision to ban smoking on the campus, I think you are being a bit overzealous when you declare we are not allowed to depict a cigarette in our art, even if it would be thematically appropriate. We’re not allowed to run around naked either, but that doesn’t mean we are not allowed to depict the naked body in our art.
So far this has been a godawful year for ticks.
I’m out working in the yard/gardening frequently, and the little bastids are as thick as, well, fleas. I do not enjoy waking up in the middle of the night to a crawly sensation and finding a tick crawling on (or worse, embedded in) my flesh. Naturally the things are not at all attracted to Mrs. J (or to our dog, who has the benefit of Frontline)., but find me tasty.
I’m on the verge of trying a few drops of Frontline on the back of my neck, after which Mrs. J. could give me a belly rub and feed me a bacon treat. :smack:
But then, a belly rub and a bacon treat? Might be worth a few drops of pesticide now and again.
To sum up:
Arthritis still awful
Mystery rash still there
Bad reaction to cream for rash has made me look and feel like I have the plague
Jsa haven’t paid me after a month because they have me down as receiving dla. I don’t (yet) and it would make no difference to my jsa if I did
Last employer hasn’t paid me despite repeated calls and emails and assurances they will pay
I’m behind on rent and my GF mentions this every day. GF also criticises my housekeeping and decorating every day; the place looks like a fucking showhome because I do tons of housework and it takes an effort to find anything to criticise, but she manages
Talktalk have referred me to a bailiff because they want me to pay them despite me not having an account with them. Bailiff phone line is so poor that I gave up after repeating my reference number three times
Home internet’s not working. Mobile internet’s working sporadically
The catsitter can only come twice. All our plants will die and I’m worried about the cat. Gf has finally agreed to let one of my other friends check in, but I have to pay for the keys
Can’t go to my father’s funeral. Will never see my family again.
I am feverish, itchy, in bad pain, haven’t slept since Tuesday, have no appetite, am nauseous, and now I have to sweep the floors, gloss a stupidly large window with 20 separate frames, make a shepherd’s pie, complete a 48-page form and pack for a holiday I don’t want to go on. Then phone my stepmum and apologise for not even going to the viewing because I’m covered in hives.
Supposedly the best cure is to keep a couple ‘free range’ chickens in your yard. They spend the entire day hunting the ground for tasty little bugs to munch on.
And, hey, fresh eggs!
Dammit mom! DAMMIT!
No, I can’t yell at my mom. She was doing what she thought was right, and…
sigh
My father has ALS (Lou Gherig’s disease). He’s nearly paralyzed, and, by doctor estimation, has about a year left.
My mother is very small, and we’ve continuously told her that if dad falls or has an accident, she needs to call either us or the paramedics immediately.
So, last night my dad falls out of bed. My mom decides that calling other people would be too much of a burden (she always thinks this way) and tries to pick him up herself. She ends up hurting herself badly, and, long story short, both of them get rushed to the ER.
Mom’s home now, dad’s still in the hospital. I have -no- other details as of yet. The trickier twist is that my mom… Well, her mental state has been deteriorating. That slow descent, combined with pain meds she’s now on, and incredible stress over dad, is making her forget even basic things.
I’m not angry at my mom, beyond the bad choice she made last night. I’m just angry. I’m angry about the mortality of parents, and I’ve got no idea which direction one can appropriately strike out to relieve that anger.
Meaning, you would be staying at the home of someone you’ve never met? Or are you at least planning to get a motel nearby? The former sounds … well, it could be pleasant, or it could be a recipe for disaster. (If it turns out that way, would you let us know all the gory details?)
I dunno, a belly rub and bacon sounds like a pretty good consolation prize. 
Please check with your PeopleDoctor before using critter-approved chemicals on yourself …
Wanna come live with me? If you really do “tons of housework” I promise to nevereverschmever criticize!
I’m really sorry. That does suck. 
I’m really sorry for you, for your dad, and for your mom - all in different ways. What littleI know of ALSsounds nightmareish.
For what it’s worth, reading your post, I do understand both your anger, and your frustration at not knowing where to put it. You can put it here, for now - we’ll read and commiserate and send you anonymous stranger prayers.
“Anonymous stranger prayers” came out sounding a bit creepier than I’d intended, but I don’t know a better way to phrase it.
Better than ‘Stalker Prayers’.
Get your terminology right: we’re imaginary friends, not anonymous strangers.
My brother’s FiL died of ALS. It was a bitch in many, many ways.
They’ve gotten me through some tough crap. And I always think of:
*These shoes have walked some strange streets
Stranger still to come
Sometimes the prayers of strangers
Are all that keeps them from
Trying to stay static
Something even death can’t do
Everything is motion
To the motion be true
*
– Bruce Cockburn
Oh, I forgot that this song (“The Gift”) has one of my favorite lines:
*
May you never tire of waiting
Never feel that life is cheap
May your life be filled with light
Except for when you’re trying to sleep
*
Wishing you light (until nine pm or so).
My cat is no longer secretly plotting my untimely demise, he’s now starting to actively try to kill me. The other morning he got in between my feet and tripped me up. I went sprawling onto the kitchen floor.
I’m not sure what I hit my foot on, but now I have at least one and possibly three broken toes on my right foot. No insurance, so I can’t go to the doctor. Besides, what’s the doctor gonna tell me about treating a broken toe that I don’t already know? Wrap it up with the toe next to it, stay off of it.
My foot is about eight different shades of green and purple. Driving is a real chore, if I didn’t have to hit the brakes I’d be ok. And it hurts! Couldn’t sleep last night because of the pain.
Oh, and the cat? He’s fine. He growled and hissed and carried on like he was being tortured, but five minutes later he was back to his old self. How I didn’t fall on him I’ll never know.
Offers Dr G some ice for the foot and gentle hugs. Then worries quietly that it might not just be broken toes. There are lots of bones in the foot that can be busted up very quickly.
Oddly enough, I was just coming to this thread to bitch about our cats. Our new cat gets along with all the other cats. Except if any of them dare to get into one of the crow’s nests. Then she HATES them and tries to chase them out. The problem with this is that she is too busy climbing up the poles and slapping and hissing that she doesn’t realize that she has them treed.
Karen called me at work and demanded that I come home at lunch so I could make our 7 lb stray leave the 18 lb house feral alone.
Some day, I will remember that my phone has a video cam, because it really was pretty funny to see her hanging on the pole with her back feet and reaching up to slap a cringing, crying feral 3 times her size.
I don’t think that any cats were hurt, btw. Cats are all about posturing. I scruffed Missy Mouth and pulled her into my arms and started giving her kisses (which are not rewards for her), Steve climbed down and ran up the stairs.
Oh God I would’a paid for a pic of Steve all cowarded-up… 
(is too a word, I just made it up!)