Where Have I Been? UNEMPLOYED. That's Where!

Life is literally a bitch right now, ya'll. It reminds of that Depeche Mode song about how God has a sick sense of humor. How does it go again? "....I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors..." oh, never mind. This ain't the time for sing-songy shit. This is the time for bitching and moaning.

Balancing unemployment and responsibility is really cutting into my leisure time. First of all, plans to lay out on a  beach with a pina colada in one hand and a trashy novel in the other have been foiled. And, so much for sending the youngest spawn off to summer day camp every day. You can't do THAT and pay rent when you're living on unemployment checks! Don't even get me started on sending the oldest spawn off to college. I'm still paying on MY fucking student loans from 20 years ago and now I'm taking out more for her! Thanks, universe! Thanks a lot for kicking me in the teeth when I'm already down!

Needless to say, this shit has really taken a toll on my sanity. My kids are all up in my face 24/7. And Hubber is over here planning imaginary vacations...

Hubber: Hey, Wife! Check this out! We could go to Disney World for only $569/person!

Me: WTF? Are you mental? We have NO money.

Hubber: The bank account says we do...and I think we should high tail it out of this shoebox and see the world while we have the chance. Usually you're too busy "WORKING" to take a trip like this!

Me: You have officially lost your mind if you think it's smart to spend our life savings on frivolous shit when we have no income! And, you wanna take the kids? That's double the cost!

Hubber: But, I have faith in you! You will land a fabulous job soon! So, why not take advantage of this little break!?

Me: How am I the responsible one in this relationship all of a sudden? Do you have a brain tumor?? I think you have a brain tumor.

Hubber: Fine...let's just you and me go to New Orleans!

Me: Now you're talking!

I think we're both going a little stir crazy up in here. Something's gotta give. But, in the meantime....

Addressing Envelopes - It's Like Rocket Science, Only Harder

The fact that "a" should be "an" is not
lost on me. But I liked the message
here, so I went with it. Don't hate.

I just realized that the oldest spawn does NOT know how to address an envelope. That's right. I was in the middle of sitting down to start addressing envelopes for her graduation announcements and I'm all like, fuck this shit - when I graduated high school, my mom made me address the envelopes and lick to seal each and every one.

Lick to seal. Heh. That's what he said!

Anyway... so, I printed out a mailing list and gave a stack of envelopes to the spawn...

Me: Here. You get to have the honor of addressing these envelopes.

Spawn: Addressing? What do you mean?

Me: Uhm. What I mean, is that you need to WRITE ADDRESSES on these mofos so we can put them in the mail.

Spawn: Can't we just print them?

Me: No. I looked up proper graduation announcement etiquette on google... and all those goody-too-shoo beyotches say you have to hand write them.  So, get on it.  You want gifts?  Then you gotta do it right...Because I don't give a shit.

Spawn: Ok. Fine.

* 2 minutes later *

Spawn: Moooooom!

Me: There's no way you're done already.

Spawn: Where does the address go?

Me: You're kidding, right?

Spawn: Uhm. No.  It goes right here, right? <pointing to top left corner where the fucking RETURN address goes>

Me: No. That's where YOUR address goes.

Spawn: I have to put MY address on these? I thought I was going by your list??

Me: Am I on candid camera again? <looking around the room very sure that Hubber hid a camera somewhere>

Spawn: Moooom... I'm serious.

Me: WTF do they teach you in school?!  How do you have all A's?!  You are the epitome of everything that is wrong with our education system!

Spawn: We don't MAIL letters at school, Mom. We E-MAIL. And, text. Duh.

Me: Shoot me, now.

Then, I proceeded to tell her the City, State and zip go on the third line after she ruined the first envelope. AND there's a comma after the CITY!  For safe measure, I went ahead and printed return address labels. It was either that or punch Hubber in the throat.

Hubber: Why do you want to punch ME in the throat? I'm not in charge of etiquette up in here. As a matter of fact, I am probably the LEAST qualified etiquette expert in this family.

Me: My point exactly! I can't do everything!  Your children should know how to address envelopes!  What about all those thank-you cards I've made her write throughout the years?

Hubber: Well, in her defense, YOU always address all the envelopes.

Me: So, it's MY fault your kids are dumb?!

Hubber: Uhm. I'll be right back... gotta pee <he says as he's shutting and LOCKING the bathroom door>

Then, the sounds of machine guns can be heard through the door.

Me: You're not peeing! You're playing games in there!

Anyway... so, if you're one of the lucky people on our mailing list and your address looks all jacked up on the envelope, THIS is why.

And, on a totally related note - feel free to send money for my booze fund.  It's dwindling.

Bed Sheets and Spiders

It really is a mystery how Hubber and I have been able to sleep in the same bed for the past 13 years given the fact that we are not compatible sleepmates. He likes his bed made like a military drill sergeant - and he likes to sleep in it that way, too; with all the corners and edges tucked in under the damn mattress, he'll stuff himself into bed like a sardine.  I, on the other hand, like FLUFF and disorder.  I like pillows everywhere, and blankets and sheets untucked so that that my feet can breathe and whatnot.

Me: NORMAL people only tuck in the fitted sheet, Hubber...because that's what it's meant for... fitting to the mattress.  The flat sheet isn't supposed to be tucked under the mattress! It's supposed to lay FLAT on top!

Hubber: How do YOU know what NORMAL people do?

Me: I'm being serious right now. DO NOT tuck my side of the bed in where my feet go.  They can't breathe when you do that!  They'll suffocate! Why do you insist on torturing me this way!?

Hubber: First of all, feet don't breathe.  Second of all, if you're so interested in NOT suffocating, why do you sleep with your damn nose under the blankets?  All I see is the top of your head.  It's creepy.

Me: I leave airholes up around my nose.

Hubber: That's the dumbest thing you've said all day.

We've had this argument at least 10 times a month over the course of our marriage.  It varies in that sometimes I'm the one calling HIM dumb. But really, we've never really found common ground where the placement of bedding is concerned.  When he's feeling extra nice, though, he'll just tuck in his side of the bed and leave mine alone.  I feel extra love for the man when he does that. But, last night was NOT one of those nights.

There I was, 2 hours into REM sleep, dreaming about unicorns, beaches and hunky football boys when the bedroom light is switched on.

Me: WHAT THE F-....!?

Hubber: <angrily shoving the sheets under the mattress> You untucked my sheets with all your tossing around!

Me: So you turn on the fucking light? While I'm dead asleep?

Hubber: Yes.

Me: Have you lost your damn mind?!

Hubber: I can't sleep without my feet tucked in! What if spiders crawl in from under the bed?!

Me: <stupified> I hate you right now.

Hubber: Not more than I hate you, you spider loving wench!

The man clearly has issues.