I’ve be so mad that I’ve tried to be really quiet in the morning, telling my son that daddy needs his rest so shhh, so that he’ll oversleep, but so far it hasn’t worked. What a bitch I am, I know.
I wasn’t mad at my hubby until his ‘big ass box of cereal’, fell from it’s precarious perch atop the refridgerator, onto my head, corner first!
I opened the fridge door, while simultaniously aligning my head under the BABOC, by reaching for the broccoli.
Now that I’ve had time to cool off (2 weeks), I fell a little guilty for scooping the spilled contents back into the box, directly from the floor. :o
Me, too. I have a couple forks with bent tines.
Unless your kid is grown and living away from home, your husband will have his revenge without doing anything.
Perferring the salad fork over the too skinny, too long regular fork, is a sign of great intelligence. 
In my house, we have the common forks, and the “Mama Forks”.
I just find them much easier to handle. Maybe because of my tiny hands.
You know, your Mom went through Nine-And-A-Half hours of labor with you.
You should have more respect for her. She has needs, just like anyone else.
That, and its ging to Suck for you come Thanksgiving. 
Mmmm, meat loaf, burnt or not. Yuk, ketchup. This works for me.
I have to agree with you here. I get might get mad but I get over it. Retaliation for some real or imagined slight just seems wrong somehow.
Maybe we’re just crazy.
When you do the laundry and ‘forget’ to wash his dress pants for work and let him wait till monday morning to find out.
(not that I would ever do this of course) really cute innocent smiley here
My wife always does the same thing when I make her angry - she stops talking to me. It’s really not all that effective a tactic.
We once had a fight that went on for three days before I found out about it.
:eek: Is that you, honey?
Good grief.
Bwahahahaha! Makes me wish I’d substituted “tool” for “utensil.”
See, I don’t yell or throw things. So, was it so bad that he had to eat with the Ugly Fork[sup]TM[/sup]?
The reason that it was so funny is that I am usually patient and calm. I really had to laugh at myself. 
Angry BoboWife is indistinguishable from tired BoboWife and BoboWife watching a good show on TV.
I’ve also taken several days to discover I’m in trouble for something. Been times I walked in to face a stony silence, causing me to mentally reveiw everything I’ve done in the past week or month, only to find out later that she was just really into that episode of whateveritwas.
Frazier: Lilith and I had a fight.
Norm: How is she punishing you.
Frazier: I’m not getting any.
Norm: You got off easy.
Frazier: No, I’m not getting any.
Norm: No, you got off easy.
I’m waiting for the post that says, “You know you’re really mad at your husband when you sit down and discuss your anger and work through the situation like a rational adult.”
Me too. That’s probably why I’m divorced.
That’s what happens after I cry and yell (which, btw, doesn’t happen often; probably a half-dozen times in more than 20 years together. For the most part, we try to catch things that make us angry before they reach that point, and, y’know, work through the situation like rational adults).
Act like I have absolutely NO INTEREST IN SEX WHATSOEVER. Then, just as he’s about to fall asleep… whip out the vibrator.
Yeah, like I’m the only one who’s done this…
Heh, my mom told me about a bunch of these she did to my dad way back in the day. She’d pack his lunch for him and one of the tricks was to make a bologna sandwich–but leave the paper in between the slices of meat (yes, I do understand that this dates me severely–I’m okay wid dat.) Or make a chicken sandwich out of the tiniest shreds of chicken possible, no mayo, fluffy white bread, and don’t cut it in half. Dad used to play pinochle every lunch with his co-workers, y’see, and it’s awfully hard to play cards when you need both hands for the sandwich. Another great one was to include a gigantic piece of chocolate cake, lots of icing–but no fork. This would necessitate a long trip from the sixth floor to the basement cafeteria, again really boning that card game. Apparently after a few of these episodes Dad would get the razzing of his life when he’d pull one of Mom’s tricks out of his lunch bag. Mom was such an evil genius and Dad so deserved it.
I’m more of a get along kinda chick, but I’ve been known to get my own back. I’m not above scrubbing a toilet with the wrong toothbrush, oops! The worst I ever did was over a totally grubby coffee maker–I don’t drink coffee much, but the SO pounds it like water, and the coffee maker was gross. It was all caked from spills and it sat on a wooden table where it leaked and messed up the varnish and there were crusty patches of sugar where the spoons had been set down and it was basically really foul. I got tired of cleaning the mess up constantly, so I bitched and badgered and he would NOT clean the damned thing, so I unplugged it and cut aaaaalmost through some of the wires, then the next time he turned it on, poof! It sputtered and died, oh so sad! No coffeemaker, what will you do? Go to instant, which is much less messy, that’s what… These days, the coffee maker along with the rest of the kitchen stays ever so nice and clean–I think he figured it out somewhere along the line…
When I’m really pissed off I tend to go out to dinner by myself–or on really bad occasions I take off for a weekend somewhere. I’ll let someone know where I’m going, but I won’t answer my phone until I’m damned good and ready. I find that living well is indeed the very best revenge.