Let's start the new year with a SCM story, shall we?
Well first I need to rag on my son.
GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE. THE HOLIDAYS ARE OVER SO GO HOME! You know that place that I am constantly helping you out with the rent? Go there. I am tired of having all my bath towels on the "guest room" floor.
Newsflash: You don't need two fresh towels each time you shower...which is twice a day.
Which brings me back to SCM.
Initially when the Stinkman found my old blog, he seemed insulted at the nickname enough to actually do something about it.
But, I guess remembering that cologne and breath mints aren't a replacement for soap and toothpaste is extremely difficult.
In the weeks that he isn't called to work for a few days at a time, he feels no need to rinse away the lovely odor of sweat and stale cigarettes. I solve this problem by cringing away from his touch and informing him that he is grossing me out. Now if someone mentioned to me that I smell like swiss cheese has been rotting in my ass crack for a month, I would be slightly humiliated and rush to rectify the rectum situation.
I guess that is just me.
He chooses to have a tandrum and go to his room and pout. A room that not only lacks running water but smells just as bad as he does.
Often that works for me. Okay, that ALWAYS works for me. If he is gone, I can take deep breaths and I enjoy those simple pleasures of life.
However, SCM hasn't worked in a couple of days and choose to cook last night.
Cook meatballs.
That he would have his hands in and around as he rolled them.
Placing them in sauce and contaminating that as well.
Deep inside me is a human being and I understand the need to be appreciated for making a nice dinner for another person. I also understand the desire for the person that I cooked for to actually consume said food.
Yeah...wasn't gonna happen.
I keep picturing him wiping the sweat away from his face with his hands followed by a good scratch to the old balls before he picked up the chopped meat.
Which caused me to vomit a little in my mouth.
He loudly informed me he will never cook again.
Thank goodness for small favors.
Now where did I put that Chinese menu?
9 comments:
Thanks. I needed to gag on the MEATBALL sandwhich. LOL
OMG I am gagging now too! I am going to hug my pristine husband now!
dammit, christine!! if it would've been me, i'da just MSDE him wash his hands first...& many times in the middle...i guess i just hate to cook more than you!!
Yeah Lib but the problem was that I got home from work with the "surprise" already cooked and ready...
I know if I asked "did you wash your hands?" he would have rolled his eyes and said yes whether it was a complete and total lie or not, just to humor me.
...you're right...with the obligatory eyeroll, "of COURSE! whatta you think i AM?"
Oh Gross....I'll never look at meatballs the same way again.
He may have even stood, thinking about the meatballs with his hands tucked under his armpits (superstah style)
Now aren't YOU glad that I dropped by???
I may never eat another meatball again. I don't know though... I do have a pretty BIG appetite.
So I guess that if I scratch my head with my fork while eating, you wouldn't see the pleasure it gives. How about picking my nose? That a problem? I’ll wipe my finger on the arm of the chair or the wall or something before holding your hand.
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