I woke up to the baby's cries a short 2 hours after the husband came home. I am tired. But not too tired to make the loudest scrambled eggs ever. I made one egg for the baby but used about eighteen other pots and pans as cymbals and drums to wake-up my hung-over husband and his idiot friend the way they woke me up the last two mornings. I cranked the volume on the stereo and played Helen Reddy's "I am Woman", ran the blow dryer for an hour, and placed the baby's shitty diaper on my husband's pillow... why should he get to sleep? Finally, as a penitence for his sins I took all of the cash out of his wallet, which amounted to a few $20 bills and twenty-six $1 bills. Strippers don't take one-dollar bills anymore, do they? Even with his military discount one-dollar could scarcely buy a lap dance with nastiest of strippers... it would have to have been a woman that refers to "brushing her tooth" rather than "teeth". Hmm... FHB has a mystery to solve... but torturing the men takes priority.
Neither of them moved... not even when I belted out "I am woman hear me roar in numbers to big to ignore..." My tone-deaf ass sang the whole damn song and nothing. Maybe they were dead? Actually, that would be a better fate for my husband then what he was going to endure if he is still alive.
I really didn't care that they stayed out all night and that they laid on the sofas like sloths all yesterday and they will likely do the same thing again today. What pisses me off is that he is such a hypocrite. If I deviate one fraction of one degree from the June Cleaver that he wished he had married then he is all up my ass. As a hypothetical example, let's pretend that I did something really foolish... like, um... let me think... OK, as a hypothetical example that just popped into my head, let's say I were to fall off of a boat dock (fully dressed) into the jellyfish infested water in a public place... very similar to the poor girl in the image below, who is definitely not me, but who appears to have fallen into the water with all of her clothes on... poor thing:
So assuming hypothetically that I had fallen off of a public, well-lit, boat dock in much the same way as the precious, hapless creature in the pictorial example above... the husband would put Baby in the corner so fast that not even Patrick Swayze could save her. That is a double standard and FHB ain't gonna take it anymore!
So assuming hypothetically that I had fallen off of a public, well-lit, boat dock in much the same way as the precious, hapless creature in the pictorial example above... the husband would put Baby in the corner so fast that not even Patrick Swayze could save her. That is a double standard and FHB ain't gonna take it anymore!
Gotta go. I need to get the husband's phone before he wakes up so I can return that text from his mother to let her know that it may be a while before her son texts her back because he has the whiskey flu.
FHB needs to think of other ways to punish him... I welcome any and all suggestions.
1 comment:
This is easy...
First, remove all booze from the house (no worries, just hide the wine in the clothes dryer). It's important that you dont let him re-up on the hair of the dog.
Then just put him on diaper duty all day. If it's Sunday morning force him to go to Church then insist on Deny's afterwards. Sure, there's the risk of cleaning shit off of 2 vs. just the 1 but tell me you won't get some mileage off that for years to come.
"Going out honey? Do I need to get out the big boy wipes?"
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