Sunday, October 05, 2008
Bitch Fest
Yeargh. So much to bitch about, so little space. A far-flung relative who we have only met once arrived with his 3 yr old. in tow on rather short notice, and frankly - he's kind of a jerk. I have nothing but sympathy for his soon-to-be ex-wife after spending a scant 24 hours with him. Then again, she married him, so maybe I don't have any sympathy for her.
My brain is overloaded with countless points of contention stewing around after listening to this guy pontificate on the subject of, oh - everything. Normally, I could go on and on about this annoyance, but guess what? I have something even better to bitch about!
You know that whole anxiety disorder thing we've been working through with Pepper? One of the things she is currently worried about is death, specifically MY death. Halloween is proving tricky this year, since everything freaks her out and makes her think about DEATH. We're working on it.
So. My idiot husband came one night recently with a cardboard box.
He said, "Hey! Kids! Want to see something cool?"
He then proceeded to pull a fucking human skull out of the box.
Let me repeat - not a replica, a real human skull that someone had passed along to him that day. I don't even know the whole story - something like he went to make a house call on a patient and the patient was a retired professor of something biology related and gave him the skull - but seriously? Eeeeeewwwww!
Luckily, I was able to use my mad skillz at non-verbal communication to indicate to him that this was a bad idea. Imagine me glaring at him from behind the kids, giving him my best "WHATTHEHELLYOUDUMBASS?!?" glare and frantically waving my hands as he gives me his best "Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel" look.
The second I saw that thing in his hands, my acute parental intuition kicked in, giving me a glimpse of the head-on freak out I knew would happen if Pepper realized it was a REAL SKULL. That once WAS A PERSON who is now DEAD. I began proclaiming that the skull was just a replica they use for teaching and Daddy needed to get it back to the hospital, so they should say goodbye to the cool PRETEND skull!
Honest to God, I'm still boggled by the cluelessness. And the skull is neatly packaged up in Dr. V.'s car, awaiting transport to a more appropriate location.
Like anywhere that is NOT my fucking kitchen counter.
My brain is overloaded with countless points of contention stewing around after listening to this guy pontificate on the subject of, oh - everything. Normally, I could go on and on about this annoyance, but guess what? I have something even better to bitch about!
You know that whole anxiety disorder thing we've been working through with Pepper? One of the things she is currently worried about is death, specifically MY death. Halloween is proving tricky this year, since everything freaks her out and makes her think about DEATH. We're working on it.
So. My idiot husband came one night recently with a cardboard box.
He said, "Hey! Kids! Want to see something cool?"
He then proceeded to pull a fucking human skull out of the box.
Let me repeat - not a replica, a real human skull that someone had passed along to him that day. I don't even know the whole story - something like he went to make a house call on a patient and the patient was a retired professor of something biology related and gave him the skull - but seriously? Eeeeeewwwww!
Luckily, I was able to use my mad skillz at non-verbal communication to indicate to him that this was a bad idea. Imagine me glaring at him from behind the kids, giving him my best "WHATTHEHELLYOUDUMBASS?!?" glare and frantically waving my hands as he gives me his best "Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel" look.
The second I saw that thing in his hands, my acute parental intuition kicked in, giving me a glimpse of the head-on freak out I knew would happen if Pepper realized it was a REAL SKULL. That once WAS A PERSON who is now DEAD. I began proclaiming that the skull was just a replica they use for teaching and Daddy needed to get it back to the hospital, so they should say goodbye to the cool PRETEND skull!
Honest to God, I'm still boggled by the cluelessness. And the skull is neatly packaged up in Dr. V.'s car, awaiting transport to a more appropriate location.
Like anywhere that is NOT my fucking kitchen counter.
Labels: bad wife thoughts, Halloween, marital relations, phobias, ranting, WTF?
9 Comments:
About
Velma is, alas, a pseudonym. I live with my family on Cape Cod, where I attempt to successfully blend in with the normal folk. You'd never guess the darkness that lurks in my heart.
(Insert evil cackle and rubbing of hands together.) For more about me, click HERE to read all my personal details and dirty fantasies.
I make lots of random stuff, but my Etsy shop is currently empty because I haven't taken pictures of any of the stuff I've been making yet.
You can also find me here:
and here:
I jest.
The best place for a human skull is either 6 feet deep or back on the shoulders from whence it came!
(I'm sorry, but it also made me giggle just a little. It was totally the way you said it, though, not the situation. Honest.)
See, the entire year I was six I cried myself to sleep every night, sad that my mother was going to die and I was going to miss her so, so much. I never told anyone, sure that I worried because I was superstitious since my mother's own mother had died when SHE was six years old.
It turns out that this is a total phase a LOT of girls go through around this age and I was not as alone as I thought. (I am almost 32 and my mother is still alive.)
Maybe Pepper can read about nice scary things, like Glenda the Good Witch and Casper the Friendly Ghost?
This post made me wet my pants! Your writing is superb and omg the visual picture you've painted!!!