Wednesday, 13 October 2010

In Which I swear. A LOT.

I was talking with a friend today. She needs a pseudonym… uhhh… Sandy. She’s Sandy. Actually Sandy is like the worst name ever because Sandy is the uptight virgin from Grease while this woman is more at home sprawled back, fag in hand, vodka in the other, cackling with me about penis sizes. Anyway. We’ll call her Sandy with an ironic wink, eh?
Sandy said there was nothing worse than having a reallyreallyreally bad day and you go to your husband/partner/whatever for a comforting hug. And they use the opportunity to grope your ass or boobs. You’re like “What the FUCK???!” And he’s like “What?????” As if he did nothing wrong and you are some over-sensitive uptight shrew.
Yeah. That’s bad.
I wish I’d remembered, though, what Himself does to me….
So I had a bad day. Thing One has morphed from this gorgeous bundle of love into a mouth with an attitude. She was doing her usual being mean thing, this time at Babe. So I literally screamed at her that Babe had spent 8 hours in hospital this week alone, she was in pain and tired and why couldn’t Thing One just be CIVIL for God’s sake.
And then I went into the kitchen, turned the Ipod up LOUD and burst into tears.
Himself came in and asked me what was wrong…. “She’s just a child but she won’t be a child much longer, she could leave home in as little as two years and I do nothing but YELL at her because she’s so horrible but I have so little time left with her and I hate all this…..waaaaaaahhhhhhhhh.” Sobs I.
“Awww.” he says. He puts his arms around me. And then he says it. The thing that is worse than groping your crying wife.
“Is your period due then?”
And okay I wasn’t exactly coherent but... I’d rather be fucking GROPED than fucking PATRONIZED. YOU TWAT.

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