Freezer Mugs Can Start Fights

This weekend, while visiting Hubby’s Grandmother the funniest thing happened. We went over to their place for cocktail hour before dinner and Hubby cracked open a beer.

Grandmother: You want a mug for that?

Hubby: Sure, I guess so.

She then proceeded to walk over to the bar area and holds out about six of those freezer mugs. You know, the kind that you should put in the freezer, so when you pull them out they are nice and cold for that perfect, ice cold beer? MMM I am getting thirsty just thinking about it. Well, she didn’t really know the purpose of the freezer mug.

Hubby: Grandmother, I think you are supposed to put those in the freezer, that way they are nice and cold and keep your drink that way.

Grandmother: Oh, I wasn’t really sure what they were for. I guess I didn’t realize they don’t stay iced if you don’t put them in the freezer. Silly me.

So, she takes all six of those mugs and puts them into the freezer and her significant other (SO) asks her what she is doing. They then proceed to argue about the significance of freezer mugs for about 10 minutes:

Grandmother: Did you know you have to KEEP these in the freezer for them to work?

SO (crabby-like): Huh, what? Why do mugs go in the freezer? That’s stupid.

Grandmother: So they stay nice and cold. I didn’t realize they melted.

SO: Huh, why would they melt? I don’t understand.

Grandmother: Because they are a FREEZER mug.

SO: But, why doesn’t he just drink his beer out of the bottle? What does he need this mug for? WHY does it go in the freezer?

And that is how the freezer mug started a fight….

Chainsaw Snores and Waffle Nazi’s

So, this past weekend, Hubby and I went to California to visit his family for his Grandmother’s birthday. I must admit, I was a little remiss to make a turn-around trip ( mostly because I HATE road trips, I am just not a good traveler and we were up there for one one whole day and half the next morning), but I am glad we went. We had a great time with the family despite some minor obstacles.

We drove up late Saturday night and arrived basically in time to go to bed. Hubby was hoping a night without the pets and a NOISY sister would allow for a good night’s sleep. (AWWW, isn’t he sweet?) However, he couldn’t have been MORE wrong on that one. His dad, in the next room, was snoring SO LOUD that I thought he might wake up the entire hotel. And I don’t mean light snoring, I mean shaking our room so the walls shake and there might be an earthquake snoring. I mean just imagine that the snoring is SO.VERY.LOUD that even a pillow over your head won’t block out the noise! Yea, it was bad and since I could barely sleep, I decided to wake Hubby up too.

What? He shouldn’t be sleeping, if I’m not!

Me: PSSSST Hubby!

Hubby: Huh….Wha?

Me: HOW does your Mom sleep through THAT snoring?

Hubby(falling back asleep): Ugh. I have no idea

Me: PSSSST Hubby…I can’t sleep. PSST. PSST PSST…..

fastforward next morning

Dad: How’d you guys sleep?

Us: NOT AT ALL! YOU SNORE!

Dad: No I don’t. I wear breath right strips.

Us: They don’t work!

So then we all decide to go to breakfast. The hotel we were staying at had a waffle maker where you could make your own waffles! I was SUPER excited. I.LOVE.FOOD. And am particulary fond of breakfast food. However here’s what happened:

There I am minding my own business, making waffles when I am approached by a crazy-haired waffle nazi lady (WNL) with a psycho look in her eye.

WNL: Whose waffle is in there?

Me: Mine.

WNL: Well, did you set the timer? I mean geez.

Me: No, I don’t need timers, I can magically sense when it is done. I am just THAT good. (under my breath so she didn’t hear me): psycho I am going to throw my waffle in your face

WNL: I mean geezus there are A LOT of people here wanting waffles. You can’t hog the waffle machine!

She was terrible people, she was just crazy and very obnoxious about the waffle machine. Who knew that waffles would bring out the worst in people?

How do these crazies ALWAYS find me…even on vacation?

A Rating of the Hostage

The Hostage survived his torture last week.

I cannot give him 4 stars because he was being insubordinate. EVIL HOSTAGE. So, with that being said, I give him a 3 out of 4 stars.

(For those of you that need an explanation; the hostage is my baby sister’s Boy and we took him as a hostage while the Hubby was out of town so we could eat something besides cereal.)

His food was great, he kept up on conversations and he even did some dishes.

I like this.

I think I will keep him, except I am going to glue his mouth shut. FOREVER. He has no right to talkback because it is his JOB to serve us.

I did tell him though, thanks to you faithful readers, that I think we might have a new business on our hands. I even told him I would go 70/30 with him. It could be called RENT A HOSTAGE. I am FULL of great ideas!

Conversation with the Hostage:

Me (a bit too excitedly): I will do all the marketing, writing, and web design (cause I am amazing like that) and all you have to do is all the work, i.e. cooking, cleaning. Not too bad, right?

Hostage (skeptical): Is that right?

Me: Yea, I mean, it would be awesome. You’d have a lot of work, make some money and I will manage you cause I am the brains behind this business. (I mean that is why I got my MBA, right? Totally genius material here)

Hostage: Yea, I just don’t think it would work.

I think I am on to something here….anyone want to be my financial backer?

A Big No-No

So, this morning I got up early to take Boston to the vet for his allergies. Which he does have, by the way. At this point, I think we own half the vet, but hey….Boston is MY baby and he has been keeping me up for a week with his sneezing.  They gave us medicine to help his sneezing and he should be better in no time, so I am not worried. They also taught us how to force pills down his throat. NOT FUN. I think I am going to try smashing them into his favorite roast beef sandwich from Arby’s before I try and use that gizmo.

Anyway, this morning after I got dressed to go to the vet, out walks Hubby in practically the same outfit as me. Jeans and the same color tee-shirt. Not okay.

Me: Hubby! You are basically wearing the same outfit as me! You need to change.

Hubby: No, I am not! My shirt is a little different and besides I thought you liked when we dressed alike and are all matchy-matchy.

Me: Ummmm are you crazy? No, I don’t want to match. EVER. We are not cute like that. I AM NOT CUTE LIKE THAT. I would never say something like that. Now, Go change quick!

NOT okay with this....

Live Encounters with March Madness

I enjoy a good basketball like everyone else, and March Madness time is just plain fun. Especially when you have teams you love. Since we already established, that I am an AZ WILDCAT fanatic, I am pretty excited to root for my Cats.

But yesterday, at lunch, I had my first real encounter with a real-life march madness team! And what did I do…I made a complete.fool.of.myself.

Eh, at least I am memorable, right? 🙂

So, I am standing in line when I notice 4 really tall guys wearing basketball shorts. When they turn around and they are all wearing shirts that say UCONN. I immediately text Hubby.

ME: Is UCONN playing HERE?

Hubby’s text: Yes

Whoa! This is so cool. So I decide I should talk to the UCONN boys, I mean I LIVED there one year ago. We are practically family, right?

Walking over cooly

Me: Hey, do you guys play for UCONN? (forget the fact that they are all practically wearing the EXACT.SAME.OUTFIT.)

Boys (looking at me like I speak Japanese–which I don’t, btw): Yea

Me: Cool. I used to live there.

I casually walk away (obviously not a genius day)

I then told this story to Hubby. His response:

DUH. They were all wearing UCONN shirts.

HERE’S YOUR SIGN.

Why Hubbys’ Need Rules

It's amazing how I can always find the perfect google pic!

Another long day at work done. WOO HOO.

As you can tell, after a long day at work…my genius brain is practically all used up. So in order to keep the spark alive, I try and woo Hubby, but alas it doesn’t work.

Me: Wanna smell my feet?

Hubby: No. Not really.

Me: The shoes I wore today really make them smell. In fact (as I lift my feet to my nose and grimace) they REALLY smell. Smell them!

Hubby: No

Me: Don’t you love me? It is part of your job, as a HUBBY, to do things that your wifey says, even if you don’t like them.

Hubby: No it isn’t.

Me: Yea it is! It is in the I-got-married-and-now-what rulebook. It defines the rules that Husbands have to perform in order to keep their cute wifeys!

Hubby: What about the rulebook for wifeys?

Me: There isn’t one. Wifey’s are perfect JUST.THE.WAY.THEY.ARE.

UPDATE: I succeeded in shoving my feet in Hubby’s face. He looked like he might vomit.

Hubby: Those feet smell HORRIBLE. GEEZ

Me: I even febreezed them!

Hubby: You febreezed your feet?

Me: Yea

Hubby: Are you sure you didn’t miss?

Ain’t love grand?

Oscar the Grouch

It’s just been one of those weeks. Filled with stress and lack of sleep and now it has compounded where any little thing feels like it will set me off.

Like what? Well, let me start the list:

1. There is never anything “good” for dinner. We have no food and are poor. I hate grocery shopping and yea, sure Hubby tries to “find” stuff to make out of nothing in our fridge, but I am just tired of eating the same old frozen pizza dinners. So then Hubby gets mad at me because I don’t like anything he suggests. JERK.

2. My middle sister asks me if I am PMSing since I am being a “a jerk.” Whatever, maybe I am, but I don’t feel overtaken by the crazy, chocolate monsters yet…so maybe I am not. JERK

3. I decide to go to bed early, in the hopes that IF i get enough sleep I will wake up happier, excited to go to work (yea, right) and get more done. But, instead I am awoken in hour by the youngest sister who decides to have a loud silverware dropping food session in the kitchen at midnight. AWESOME. It not only sounds like World War III in the kitchen, but now all the pets are up whining and bothering me too. Guess I AM not sleeping tonight. JERK

4. Boston, my favorite cat, will not stop sneezing. And he will not stop sneezing in my face at night, so his sneezes get all over me. I think he has allergies. But, Hubby doesn’t want to take him to the vet because we just spent a small fortune on Americus there. But he is my baby, and if he gets sick I get freaked out. SAD

5. It is ONLY Thursday and this week is not over yet. It is the longest week EVER and I still have to go to a 3 hour meeting on Friday afternoon (when my I-care-level is at 0 and I had a 4.5 hour meeting this past Monday. What is it with meetings? DUMB

6. I just want to know what we are doing….i.e. jobs, living situations, and real life. I am tired of being stuck in limbo-land. P.S. I have the patience the size of a small paper clip. DUMB

7. I planned on drinking last night, to make me nicer, however I found out we have close to no booze…ok, we just don’t have what I want. Which is a whole bottle of red wine (to myself) or crown with coke (the best thing to drink when you have to shovel snow—not that we are experiencing any snow, but it is the shoveler’s drink of choice). DUMB

8. I forgot to make my lunch last night and I am out of Ramen at work. DUMB

 I think I need a vacation OR a really, really stiff drink.

The Dirty Fighter

LOUD NOISE of dog throwing up next to me in the computer room.

Me (shouting): NOT IT! HUBBY, NOT IT!

Hubby (angrily): That does NOT count!

Me (sweetly, if that is EVEN possible): Yes it does, I need to get in the shower and get ready for bed. (Remember I get up at 4:30, it doesn’t matter that it is only 8pm)

Hubby: It is still early; you have PLENTY of time to clean up the dog throw up.

Me: WHATEVER, you still owe me from when Americus was sick (thankfully she is better now—though we still don’t know what was wrong with her) because I cleaned up LOADS of vomit and poo.

Hubby(clearly exasperated): Uh huh. Well then fine, I will clean this up, but you have to sift the cat litter.

Me (whiney): Please, Hubby! Can’t you do it? I am heading into the shower right now…

10 minutes later

Hubby (NOW YELLING at his cute wifey): Are you STILL on that computer!? You cannot call not it and not even head to the shower!

Me (now yelling because Hubby is yelling): We are in a fight! I am going to write you a hate blog!

Me: Running to shower

Is it Friday, yet?

This is the longest week EVER! I just want it to end!

This is so me….and then I am slapped back into reality.

Confessions of a Tupperware Closet Monster

Not our real drawer...just a sample. I cannot mortify Hubby by posting real pictures. That is just too humiliating.

So, out of my MANY, MANY, MANY WONDERFUL qualities, I do have one downfall. I suppose I can let you in on this little secret, but just know that it has been passed down many, many generations on my dad’s side. It is….wait for it…the curse of the tupperware closet monster.

The lore goes that somewhere deep inside me is a tupperware closet monster. How does it emerge, you might ask? Well, whenever one is unloading the dishwasher it comes time to put away the tupperware. I.HATE.PUTTING.AWAY.TUPPERWARE. This is when I am overcome. I fall into a trance and before I know it, I reawaken and all the tupperware is tossed put away.

I only recently realized it was hereditary when I caught Rae tossing putting away tupperware the same exact way. The monster was in her blood too!

NOTE: This is where I should mention that the tupperware closet is Hubby’s pride and joy. It is so cute how he likes to make sure each tupperware fits into another one, according to size. He then puts all the lids in similar size-arranged order. It is actually quite crazy, obsessive, psycho strange if you ask me, but it makes him happy. So who am I to judge?

But once I came into the picture, Hubby no longer knew the beauty and organization of the tupperware closet. Soon chaos hit the tupperware closet. Today, the tupperware closet is no longer organized into nice inner-fitting shapes, with matching lids. It no longer glistens in its’ organized crazy, psycho bliss. Now it is a closet nightmare: scary, messy and ready to fall out on anyone who dares open the door. Kinda like an avalanche building, bursting, and silently, but deadly awaiting Hubby, the unsuspecting prey.

This ONE downfall of mine does not make Hubby happy, in fact, he was so excited to show me his accomplishment today!

Hubby: Look Dear, I re-organized the tupperware closet! (He is BEAMING with pride here)

Me (feigning interest): Wow, Hubby, looks amazing. Really it does. Great job.

Fastforward to clean up time after dinner

Me (under my breath): Hmmmm well, that tupperware closet DID look good. ( I than quietly kick nudge the door shut and back away slowly)