.. I say this because the last time I went on a rant about I vented about my douchebag husband and his blobs of DNA swamp pool spawn, I got a finger wagging and a lecture from some one :: sorry, Dude.. don’t remember your name and really don’t feel like looking it up :: who said that I was “having a bad day” and taking it out on Chief .. that I was “.. beating him up over his kids” .. that I “.. beat him up for not have good parents” and that I don’t talk to him in the manner I should.
No.. this isn't me. Although I think she might be pretty cute if she wasn't so frustrated!!
So Mr. Why-Don’t-Read-Delve-Alittle-Further-Before-Berating-Me .. you might not want to read any further.
Ok.
So lets back up to last night.
All day yesterday I’ve been chest issues. There was a pain in the center of my chest and it felt like I was having a hard time breathing. It may just be the after math of jumping over the counter last week because believe me.. there’s been aches and pains in places where I haven’t had aches and pains before. Remember.. I’m not as young as I used to be!
So the big question of the day was what were we going to have for dinner. It’s ALWAYS the big question of the day but since it’s been soooo fucking hot and humid where I live, I wasn’t looking forward to turning on the oven or standing in front of the stove. So he decided we’d hit a drive through.
After we closed the store and got into the car, it NOW became the debate of WHICH drive through to go to. I told him I didn’t care because I really didn’t feel like eating anyway.
He HATES when I don’t eat. HATES IT. Like.. he’s my grandmother reincarnated. I told him that I really didn’t feel good.. really shouldn’t even have been driving and just wanted to go home and go to sleep. He asked me if I wanted to go to the doctors, to which I replied he could make an appointment for me when I’m dead.
The usual banter.
So we wound up at Burger King and after ordering value meals for them, I decided to just get a mini burger in case I got hungry later. I hadn’t eaten anything all day and figured that once I wake up feeling better I may have an appetite. So we get everything and we get home and as soon as I come through the back door and see all the crap in the sink and all the stuff left out on the counters when it should have been in the fridge and all the crumbs and the over flowing trash can.. I walk into the dining room where Bubba was on the computer and Spaz was on the couch and said, “… nobody’s eating until the kitchen it cleaned the way it’s suppose to be.”
Chief was like, “.. yea! What’s this about? Get off your asses and clean up your mess! How many times have I told you to pick up after yourselves…” blah blah blah blah blah.
So Bubba get up and goes into the kitchen and Spaz comes running up to me saying that he told Bubba to do his dishes.. blah blah blah blah blah.
We finally sit at the table..
Wait.
Back up..
Earlier when I doing Weed’s laundry, Bubba had gotten up at 4pm and immediately him and Spaz started arguing over the computer. It was a good thing that I had to bring Weed his clothes then or else I think I would have knifed them both.
Not pretty. But real, none the less.
So when we got back to the house, I figured since both of them were home that Chief needed to address the fighting over the computer issue which is why I sat at the table instead of going to bed.
I should have went to bed.
Trust on that.
We’re sitting there and after Chief asks me why I only got a mini burger and after me telling him because my chest really, really hurts.. I say, “.. we need to have a conversation about the computer and all the fighting that’s going on about because truthfully, I can’t take it anymore.”
Chief was like, “.. yea.. no body is allowed on the computer for more then two hours at a time.”
And then Bubba said something about not liking mayo or steak sauce or something and Spaz said that he liked mayo and Chief just went right down that road discussing the pros and cons of various condiments.
So yea.. nothing accomplished there.
I got done eating half a mini burger.. gave the other half to the dogs.. and when I went into the bedroom I had forgotten that I had started sorting the our laundry earlier. So I got up.. went down the basement.. got the extra laundry hamper.. came back upstairs.. put the whites in one and the darks in the other..
Chief asked me if I was doing laundry now and I told him.. no, my chest is hurting.
As I dragged the hampers out into the dining room, Bubba was playing with Ernie the Terrorist Puppy and he asked me if I saw the sore on his back. When I went to look, I saw what must have been four or five fleas.
Now I had given both dogs flea baths and used Frontline on them not even a month ago so I was a little put off about that. But seeing the sore on the dogs back, I couldn’t not just let that go.
So I tell Chief that the dogs are going to have to be bathed. He said he would take the out so that Ernie would be on the leash since I had to wash them in the tub and there was NO. WAY. IN. HELL. that Ernie was getting anywhere NEAR the tub.. he dives under the bed whenever you pick up a spray bottle.
Any spray bottle.
So while he’s outside with the dogs, I get the spray thing for the tub faucet and the flea stuff and the towel. He brings Ernie into the bathroom, I lift him up into the tub and start shampooing him. Chief says he’ll be right back and hands me the leash.
Now.. what the FUCK am I suppose to do with that? My hands are all soapy and sudsy and I can’t continue to wash him and told the leash at the same time so I call for Spaz and tell him to hold the leash.
Spaz is talking a mile a minute asking asinine question after asinine question and answering them himself.
I just drowned him out and continued doing what I was doing. But when I finished, my back was killing me .. my chest was hurting more and I knew that there was NO way in hell that I was going to be able to wash Bella in the tub. She’s too big a gal and I wasn’t going to be able to lift her in.. lift her out.. OR manage washing everything on her that needed to be washed.
She’s like a baby seal.
So after Ernie is all finished and running around the house like the Crack Whore on speed, I go into the bedroom and there’s Chief, sitting on the bed playing on the PS3.
You’re kidding me, right?
That important?
Ok.
So I tell him that I’m going to have to wash Bella outside in the kiddie pool because I can’t lift her into the tub.
No response.
I say it again.. no response.
Mind you, I’m about two feet away from him.
Mind you, he played PS3 ALL. FUCKING. DAY at the store.
So finally I was like CHIEF!!!!!!!!!!!
He was like, “.. oh. I’m sorry. What did you say?”
So I told him again and he was like, “ok.”
So I was like, “… you going to help me or what?”
“… oh yea.. yea.. I’ll help you. Just get everything ready.”
I bit my tongue and went down the basement.. connected the hose to the laundry tub sink.. ran the house up the steps and outside.. got the kiddie pool set up.. get the towel .. got the shampoo.. got BELLA.. and waited.
And waited.
While I was waiting, I checked Bella for fleas and OMG did she have them. She has a really, really think undercoat and long Lassie-like hair that I cut back when it gets warm. There always one spot on the back right about her tail that is always balding so when I checked her and saw soooo many fleas, I was literally at a loss. Meanwhile, the mosquitos started hitting so I go in the house and went into the bedroom to see what’s holding Chief up and he’s STILL playing PS3 AND he even started another 10 minutes round.
I was like, “… what are you doing?”
He said, “.. I’m just playing this match”
I said, “.. you were just playing a match before when I came in”
He said, “.. I know but it sucked so I started another one.”
And then he called for Spaz to help me because.. yknow.. playing Call of Duty is SO MUCH MORE important then helping me, right?
Silly fool I am.
So me and Spaz are outside and I’m trying to direct him in actually helping me but he just wants to play with the hose. I literally go in the pool with the dog and sat in the water in order to do what I had to do to get the fleas off her. And then he slapped a mosquito off his leg and said, “.. ok. I’m going in.” and left.
Now.. not only is my chest hurting but add on top of it the frustration.. the anger.. and all the other rainbow of emotions that were going on and I was literally just on the verge of a breakdown.
I finally get the dog washed and dried off.. go back into the house.. put the hose away.. put the clothes that had been in the washer in the dryer.. put all the dog stuff away.. wash the glasses and utensils that were STILL in the sink :: because LORD KNOWS when you say “.. do the dishes” they only DO THE DISHES :: .. clean up the shit that was still on the dining room table.. go into the bedroom where Chief finally turned off the PS3 but was all engrossed in Bill O’Reilly… changed out of my wet clothes.. then went into the bathroom and scrubbed the tub.
When I was finished.. I went back in the bedroom and said to him, ”.. yknow if I didn’t do anything because it was hard.. or boring.. or because I just don’t want to do it, nothing in this fucking house would get done”
HE said, “.. what did Spaz not help you?”
And I said, “.. YOU didn’t help me. HE didn’t help me. NOBODY helps me’
And with that he clammed up with nothing to say.. put on the History Channel and I just got in bed went to sleep.
This morning he wakes me up at 630am because I have to drive Weed all the way back to the rehab place because he forgot to take home his wallet and GOD FORBID if he didn’t have his ID to buy booze. And I had to go early because.. omg! Can’t leave Chief out on a limb, right?
He goes out into the kitchen and I hear him say, ”.. you’re kidding, right? You’re kidding me, right?”
Because at 630am, Bubba was still up from the night before on the computer. I don’t know what Bubba said but Chief didn’t say anything else and as I got dressed and was walking out of the bedroom I reminded Chief that it was trash day. He takes the bag from the trash can and calls for Bubba.
Who doesn’t answer.
He YELLS for Bubba.
Who doesn’t answer.
He SCREAMS for Bubba .. who doesn’t answer because he has headphones on. Chief goes out into the dining room and tells Bubba to put a trash bag in the trashcan.
Now, I’m still hurting from last night. Emotionally more then anything so I’m not my usual giddy self and was thankful that I had to drive an hour or so up and back with Weed because I really didn’t want to be around Chief so much. But this afternoon, around 3, we’re sitting in the back of the store and Chief says to me, “.. I know you were upset last night but honestly, I started to not feel good around dinner.”
I just said, “.. I didn’t feel good either.”
He was like, “.. I’m sorry.” But not in the remorseful way.. more in the snarky way?
End of conversation.
Of course.
So I leave the store and have to stop at the supermarket to get something for dinner and when I got back.. a replay of what I found last night in the kitchen was before me.
Dishes.. crumbs.. butter left out.. you name it.
So I said something like, “.. you got to be fucking kidding me” and Spaz heard me and came into the kitchen trying to maneuver between me and the sink.
I asked him what he was doing and he was like, “.. oh, I want to help you.”
And I was like, “.. No. You’re not going to come in here at 5 o’clock to “help” me when you had all damn day to “help me” but you didn’t want to then so don’t think you’re going to do it now and act like you’re all great and wonderful because let me tell you Bucky, you’re not.”
I think I might have told him to just leave me alone.
And you know what? I don’t feel one little iota of guilt about it either.
He leaves but then comes back a few minutes later to tell me that the reason why he slept out in the living room was because HIS room is FULL OF FLEAS.
Really?
REALLY?
So I said, ‘.. how could YOUR room be filled with fleas when the dogs aren’t even IN your room but they SLEEP in my room.. SLEEP IN MY BED and OUR room ISN’T FULL OF FLEAS?”
He couldn’t answer that because it wasn’t true. Because if his room was full of fleas, he would have been yelling, screaming and hollaring the night before because he yells, screams and hollars about EVERYTHING that bothers him.
And while I’m washing the dishes and scrubbing the counter, Bubba comes in and says that their room IS full of fleas.. at least TEN.. and I told him the same thing AND asked him why he didn’t put the trash bag in the trash can like his father asked him to and he said he didn’t hear him.. he said that Chief told him to do the dishes and I wearily said, No.. he did not.. but even IF he did.. YOU STILL DIDN”T DO THE DISHES.
He walks out of the kitchen because there’s nothing he can say either and so I continue to clean their mess and when I got to the stove where there was dried up egg and melted cheese and bits of ham all over it AND the wall.. I went to move a pot that’s been sitting on the back burner with a little frying pan on top of it :: I have limited space for my pots and pans :: and..
And..
OH MY FUCKING GOD I ALMOST THREW THE FUCK UP.
Because in that pot that’s been sitting on the back burner for a few weeks because I haven’t been cooking the way I normally so because it’s been ungodly hot and humid .. was a ring of sausage that Chief started to cook a few Sundays ago. Apparently, he finished boiling it.. changed his mind on what he was going to do with it.. and put the little frying pan on top of it as a lid.. and forgot about it.
The STENCH alone was vomit inducing.
The maggots.. well, I won’t tell you what happened when I saw the maggots.
Yes. You read that right.
And believe me.. I am so mortally embarrassed to have to even write that. I am mortified that I have to tell ANY of this but THIS is what I’m dealing with.. THIS is what I have to put up with.. THIS is what Mr. Berate Me For Not Being More Sympathetic To The Douche Bag needs to know.
So I call Chief up.
“.. remember that sausage you made a while ago?”
“yea”
“.. do you know what happened to it?”
“um…. silence… silence.. silence.. oh.”
So I tell him that you thought not having a trash bag in the trash can like you told your son to do this morning is bad? You think all the dishes and shit on the counter is bad? Yea.. nothing compares to a pot full of maggots.
He kept saying “I’m sorry” and when I didn’t respond.. I mean, really.. how are you suppose to respond to that???? .. he was did the PLEADING Im sorry.
When I told him that I had to hang up and de-stench-ify the kitchen, he had the BALLS to ask what was for dinner.
I told him whatever I could cook that didn’t make me want to throw the fuck up in the process.
So right now I’m SO WAY BEYOND pissed and I know how I am when I get like this and I really should just get up and go out until he’s asleep because this is not going to be pretty.
At all.
.. apologies for having to skip out earlier.
My little baby boy isn’t a baby anymore!
LIVING ME 101 
