Feck Shite Bollocks!

11/02/2009

One day I will have a day when at no point at all do I stop and think to myself. So, there she goes again. Making a pigs ear of every frigging thing that she does”.

Bman has been home less than 5 minutes and has gone back out again. He came, I shouted, He left.

In my defence I was fuming that yet again my authority had been undermined by him infront of the children which in my own feeble unprofessional opinion is partly why half the time they never take a blind bit of notice of anything I ask or say.

I should start at the beginning.

Childerbeast have been beyond silly all morning. All through lunch they gooned and goofed about like drunken freaks which I just put down to cabin fever from being indoors most of the weekend. Some suspicious activity in their room after lunch alerted me to the fact that they had a stash of Halloween trick or treat sweet sin there and the prime suspect was some jumbo multicoloured lolly that they had been having a going at between them since about 10am by all accounts. Close scrutiny of the ingredients and alarming list of E-numbers prompted me to confiscate immediately and dispose of in the bin.

Bman returns from work shortly afterward and straight away the childerbeast tell him “we’re not allowed to go to the movies now because we’ve been too silly”. I ask them to explain why it is they have been too silly, which they do. I elaborate, citing said E-number packed lolly and explain that they were ripped to the gills on food colourings and aspartamines so were not allowed sweets for a few days, if not all week and in like a whippet Bman says; “nothing wrong with that lolly, they had some on Halloween and were fine”. Why don’t you just say infront of the kids “Your Mother is talking shite and is wrong again, as usual”.

Why do you have to argue about almost every single thing that I say. “This is black.” “No it’s not it’s white”. Never apologise. Never back down and never admit you might actually be wrong now and then.

I objected to being shot down in flames AGAIN infront of the kids and I then get the “Oh fuck this I’m off back out”.
Yes. Run. Run away like a man. Leave me here and then if you can be bothered top come back later you can criticize my choice of dinner suggestion, or ironing technique and then you can keep me awake half the night with your great big snoring problem which is impossible to sleep through even with earplugs in.

Bah!

Is it any wonder he hates my hair, jokes about my weight and laughs at me most of the time. Why the fuck should I bother making more of an effort… for you? Huh. What a joke. And don’t give me any of that “what about for yourself?” crap. I am quite happy in my slobs and not prancing about in full make up and heels 24/7 thank you.

I’m ranting I know. I realize that but right at his precise minute I don’t care.
I may do later once I have posted this but then again maybe I won’t.

Just anther day in the life of another faceless, domestically challenged, stuck in a rut, bored of each other, irritated with everything married couple with kids.

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