QUESTION: Why did I agree to run the goddamn Scholastic Book Fair?
ANSWER: Oh, that’s right, because I wasn’t pregnant last year when I said I would. And so therefore I must have been drunk. Or smoking crack. Or both.
QUESTION: Why does Primo think I have the set list of every show I have ever seen embedded in my brain for all time?
ANSWER: Because if I had someone else to cook my meals, do my laundry, direct my bath times, arrange my social life, and pretty much do everything for me but wipe my ass, I too would have the brain capacity for mindless minutiae like he does.
QUESTION: Why am *I* solely in charge of feeding my family?
ANSWER: Because, clearly, H goes to slave away at his job everyday while I sit at home on my Barcalounger, eat bonbons, and watch soap operas, so really, what’s a little meal planning here and there, between “One Life to Live” and “Santa Barbara”?
QUESTION: For that matter, why am *I* solely in charge of all the Christmas shopping?
ANSWER: I gave birth to them, isn’t that enough? Apparently not. And since I didn’t give birth to my in-laws or my children’s teachers, I suppose it’s only right that I be in charge of shopping for them..?
QUESTION: Is “Santa Barbara” even still on?
ANSWER: I haven’t the foggiest idea.
QUESTION: Why do we live in a three-thousand-square-foot house when all three of my children, both cats, and the dog (and probably the goldfish were he mobile) want to be in the same square foot I am presently occupying?
ANSWER: Because they LOVE me, despite the ungrateful, screaming shrew that I am?
(Although I suppose that’s really another question…)
QUESTION: If a boy punches his little brother in the attic and no one is there to hear it, does it still hurt?
ANSWER: Apparently only three hours later, when it occurs to the younger brother to tattle and burst into tears at his previous trauma.
QUESTION: Wouldn’t it be really useful if, with each child you birth, you grew an arm that upon the youngster reaching the age of eighteen, became vestigial and fell off?
ANSWER: Useful, yes. Attractive, no. But that alone might prevent more children and thus, more arms.
(I would also like to grow progressively harder of hearing with each successive baby.)
QUESTION: Whose fucking idea was it to buy those children a drum set last Christmas?
ANSWER: Oops. Shit.
******************
* "Close to You," The Carpenters
9 comments:
Too funny! I especially love the one about the three hour trauma. And I sit on my Barcalounger eating bonbons all day too, only it's Guiding Light and the Young and the Restless for me. It's a good life. ;)
(...I *think* GL is still on. Every once in a while I see one of those soap opera digest mags while waiting in the checkout line, and there is Victor, still alive, staring back at me. Oh wait, is that YR? Gah! The bonbons are impairing my thoughts.)
I would tell you to get out of my head and/or remove the hidden camera from my house, but, you know, I would never in a MILLION MOTHERFUCKING YEARS agree to organize the Scholastic Book Fair. I don't even like SHOPPING at it. Which I did yesterday. Oy.
I came to your page because I loved the Velma profile pic. I hate the Christmas shopping thing too. My husband has an extra excuse some years--he's in the military, so sometimes they send him away for a few weeks here and there, so he claims he doesn't have time to shop. Love it.
Victor is on Young and the Restless. I shouldn't know that.
I don't mind the Christmas shopping if it is books. Am happy to help the sucker who organises the Scholastic Book Fair but am way too lazy to run such a thing.
On the other hand, I volunteered my whole precious Saturday afternoon to help at the election booth at school selling drinks, just to get out of spending it with my in-laws, who visit once a year (yes, I'm a bitch).
Totally relate to the kids hanging off you. We'll miss it when they push us away and say they hate us, one day.
Lazy Cow (for some reason can't leave comments)
Oh HELL NO!
Hubby tried to pull that the first year we were married (you want me to....buy gifts for people who are obviously wondering where in hell I came from? Uh, nooooo)
And then again the second year (Hello? You want me to pick out gifts for people who are just starting to like me? Uh, noooo)
And then he waited until the third year, when none of the old excuses fit. Damnit.
I like it when you get all worked up like this, it suits you.
-J.
Santa Barbara is not still on. It was my favorite soap, though, back in the day.
Good luck, hon.
(I have no useful horror stories in any of the other categories.)
I have car stories, though. You want a car story? Maybe not.
my vw is oomvlzr. oom sounds like a yoga chant or something. oom...or the backwards of moo. which is the sound a cow makes. Do you know what a duck sounds like? (oh, I must be channeling my children's librarian persona there...)
Can I have the crack? (since you're pg and all...)
See? I told you that you were funny!
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