Sometimes I really hate my husband. Take yesterday, for instance. To make a long story short (and to make me out as the hero) a few months ago we received a notice from our mortgage lender that we were late on a payment. I know, snore, blah, E.F. Hutton, that's exactly what I said. I called and squared it away only to receive yet another notice. And then another. A few trips down to the bank and more blah blah Charlie Brown adult voices and I thought it was resolved only to receive a final notice that we had been reported to a credit agency. Blah blah but wait! There's more! Soon I will huck my cell phone across the room in this story and it shatters in two! Not the story but my phone! So yesterday morning my husband is throwing a manly man conniption fit that we will never be able to refinance our house, buy a new car, a sailboat, a motorcycle for Zoey, that our credit will be ruined. Ruined! Ruined, he tells me! And then he obtusely infers that it is my fault by point blank saying
this is all your fault and here is the point in the story when I throw my cell phone and yell at him for not unloading the dishwasher the night before because obviously the dishwasher is IN the house and thus part of the fight, for stacking his papers on the kitchen table, for never making dinner, for only changing one poopy diaper for every 417 that I have ever changed and for beer farts, his and those of all mankind.
And then he goes and does something like this:
And the man's shit? So long as he is wearing a head full of flower barrettes and letting Zoey hack away at his head with a plastic hairbrush, that other shit? It. Does. Not. Stink.
p.s. While on the phone with the bank (who is TOTALLY in the wrong, BTW) I maybe might have lied a little bit and said my brother is a segment producer with KCBS and looking for human interest stories regarding the mortgage crisis. Then I paused with the phone to my ear and thought
touché motherfuckers, tooshay! But the bank totally called my bluff and said
go right ahead and air it, bitch, we've got you by the short and curlies except maybe she left out the bit about the pubic hair because financial institutions almost always deny existence of the nether region. And of course my brother is
not a segment producer for the local news but a commercial director so please, if anyone out there just so happens to be a producer for KCBS (or other! KTVU? Anyone? Anyone? Fox? I'd even do Fox!) and would like to pretend I'm your sister then email me and together we will take them down.
Silkwood of the Menses, people! Keepin' it real!
12 comments:
It's hard to resist a man with a head full of barrettes! I KNOW! (or pink sponge rollers on Some occaisons-only when styled by the likes of a small child, not when they are testing out a new "do" on thier own)
You go girl, beat down the System, wear a push up bra and call yourself Erin Bra-kovich while your at it! It's all good!
LOL! I don't think I could stay mad at a man in flower barettes for long either.
what a cute pic. now you have some blackmail on him should he ever eff up the bills again.
What a shitty situation! At least you two kissed and made up. Although, I hope you still gave him a piece of your mind, even if he was wearing adorable barrettes in his hair.
Hilarious! I almost peed my pants a little on that one (not really that surprising in my pregnant state). Isn't the regular hating your (adorable, I must say) husband just part of a healthy marriage? I think so!
Dude, one of my coworkers JUST told me a story about how his mortgage company got the Nervous Tummy when he was TWO DAYS LATE on his payment and got all up in his shit. They are FREAKING THE FUCK OUT, man. And rifling through the couch for spare change and shit.
Hilarious post. Effing adorable fam.
The short and curlies! I can't even...pissing my pants, literally!
OK. Deep breaths. Oh, and I tagged you, girlie!
Your mortgage co. has somehow confused you with me...sorry. Do NOT try this at home,folks-but I have either had a breakthough or a breakdown. Sometimes they're so damn hard to tell apart...especially if you actually have had a breakdown. Not many years ago, I was a fanatic about bills and finances. By the 5th of every freaking month I paid all my bills, completed my payment stubs nicely, documented on my portion of the bill the amount paid (always exactly what was due) with the date and check number, wrote everything in my check register neatly and balanced my checkbook monthly to the fucking penny. Then life happened. It began slowly..I just got a bit more laid back about it all. Little by little, I cared less and paid bills when I felt like it. Then, one day, it just seemed easier to wait till they called to ask why I was tardy and just happily pay it over the phone and thank them for calling. Soon, I wasn't opening the bills at all.I DID feel guilt and shame-certainly worry-but not enough to get my act together. Now I'll insert here that in every other aspect of my life, I am very together. I'll also add (not that I think I'm unique) that I'm balancing a lot of balls in the air metaphorically speaking (and, alas none in my physical life-I know, Sweetie, TMI and GeeGees to boot). And even though I sort of know that the way I'm behaving financially is childish, irresponsible and harmful to my credit rating and old self-esteem, I slid further and further into financial ennui.I'm pretty sure that this has everything to do with my coping mechanisms-or lack thereof. I know I've regressed in the financial responsibility arena to maybe Zoey's age. I know that if I tried to keep everything in my life together and under control, something vital would break inside me and I'd lose it all. I know that, were I to choose a function in my life to "let go of", it would have been far better to opt for, say, housework...but I DIDN'T choose it, it seemed to choose me. Some time ago my credit rating dipped to "This woman shouldn't be left alone-much less handle money" category, I really didn't care anymore and...and...I JUST. DON'T. CARE. I'm not proud of myself nor do I spend much time self-flagellating (am I even spelling correctly-where is spellcheck on the comments page? and I just almost made a bad Freudian slip some words back after "self-")Don't misunderstand, I DO always pay my bills, just late and under the wire for legal action sometimes. I have crossed over into a place though...past guilt,past shame, past worry of consequence...and, amazingly, into a freedom the likes of which I could never imagine. Because, where bills, credit ratings, credit calls, financial responsibility is concerned...I just don't care, not a worry. Now, I am NOT advocating this to anyone-quite the contrary, younger readers. And I'm not boasting. And, maybe I have lost it and this is a blaring symptom and a loud, too late call for help-but, for me, it just doesn't feel that way. So, there's my most intimate and, probably quite troubling to my children, confession. How the mighty have fallen...but maybe it's Zenish not crazy. No one has arrested me yet and I still have all my possesions-way too many, in fact. So, Susannah, what you and Bry should do is give my name to your mortgage people and blame it on me. Financially, they can't hurt me anymore 'cause I'm already there! Love you and hope you and Andy don't feel the need to plan an intervention immediately. I promise that none of my "relaxed" financial habits will ever have to be cleaned up by you guys and, I do have a different last name so no guilt by family name. Love You. Your Less Than Stellar Mom
short and curlies is one of my favorite 3-word combos. good ones.
OMG you made me pee AGAIN! personally, i put my panties on my head when i can't win a heated discussion. i, in fact, have tried to start a global movement asking that all of man and womankind put panties on their heads when they get mad and/or cannot resolve an issue. talk about world peace. just march down to that bank with some undies on your head...and thanks for sharing the lovely family photo.
I cannot get over the priceless look on Zoey the Hairstylists face...
Can't wait for your big TV debut on a Dateline expose!
Love the pic..and BTW, I have spent the last two years frustrating myself with the whole credit thing in anticipation of having to refi. Well, I hit the motherlode and now I know exactly how to play their game ( thanks to the secrets of my mortgage broker ). I got my husband's credit report up 140 points...only to get a letter from the mortgage company that our rates were going to stay put for the next five years anyway - no need to refi now.
Anyway, if you need help PLEASE email me....would love too :)
Post a Comment