Last night my husband came upstairs and said, "You know you are going to end up on one of those shows on the I.D. channel because you killed me, right?"
PS - Last night at the end of my work day, I sat in my car, put the key in the ignition and all I got was the middle finger and a heavily Japanese accented voice that said, "Fuck You!"
I yelled back, "This wouldn't happen if you were a fucking robot."
Jason picked up my prescription on his way home.
PPS - Seriously - I've been told this might not be entirely clear. Let me clarify:
My husband thinks I should kill him. Or that I'm going to, I'm not sure which. He yelled something else about life insurance.
My car wouldn't start. I'm not sure how that wasn't clear when I said it gave me the finger and talked to me.
If it was a robot it might do the same things but it would take me where I wanted to go. It's a car robot, it has too.
Meds people. The crying, they help the crying.
Why do I feel like I will have to explain this again?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
UPDATED! My Car and Wednesday Conspired Against Me - Jerkoids!
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12 comments:
Maybe it's because I've taken like a bijillion advil in the last 24 hours for a migraine and haven't had any caffeine yet today, but I had to read this 3 times really slowly to understand it.
If your car were a robot you could program it to have heavily accented gay if you wanted.
I always watch that show about the women who snap and murder their husbands and stuff with Billy and tell him he better watch his step. He laughs because he knows I'm totally serious.
Is that the same thing as me telling our Chihuahua I'm going to stick a tiny straw into her tiny head and suck up her tiny brain?
Pretty much. It's like when I try to tell my kid to do something that involves more than one step.
See, I kind of fear robots. I've seen that damn I, Robot movie with Will Smith so damn much on f/x that I fear the revolution. Or whatever. I'm just saying I hope my used minivan holds out for as long as possible.
And when we can't hold out, that's when meds come in. I get it. It's good.
That's EXACTLY what I felt like with Jenny's blog, except that it went ahead and actually did yell at me. Yours was just metaphorical, so you can imagine how frightened and frustrated I am.
I hope you got some good meds. When I pick up my scripts it's always the happiest day of my life. The more of your stuff I read, the more I realize how much we have in common. Sorry your Wednesday sucked. I was really, really hoping it was better than your Tuesday. At least you're married to a guy with a sense of humor.
Thanks for the update, I totally get it now. It was probably just me and my stupid brain that didn't understand and now I feel bad and also kind of proud that you had to update your blog for me.
It was just for me, right?
I am in a fucking mood lately too and I can't even bitch about it on my blog. My husband’s family checks it too often and they would pop a vein if they thought I was even close to crazy. These days I feel certifiable. If they only knew. It comes in waves. I hope yours is over soon.
I thought it was perfectly clear, but then again, our minds work damn near identically sometimes.
I'm feeling all sorts of smart. I figured it out without the extra explanation.
Where's my cookie?
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