We say Fuck A Lot: A Rant

This day started out all kindsa sucky.

I awoke to The Mister’s alarm. Since The Mister didn’t come to bed until 5:45, he wasn’t hearing it. I thumped him and we had words. I no longer remember what the words were, but it ended with, “Fuck you, don’t tell me what to do!” and his replying, “Fuck you, don’t tell ME what to do!” Once I was sure he had arisen, I went back to sleep for a bit.

We are NOT morning people, and I assure you, this is quite normal for us, and fuck you, don’t tell us how to talk to one another.

When I finally performed the reluctant flipping off of my covers, I realized he didn’t take the dog out. Fuckin bastard. I wandered down the hallway, where I discovered he hadn’t fed the cats, either. Cocksucker. Once I made it into the kitchen, I saw he did not make the coffee. Motherfucker. Then I reached into the pantry for the coffee and saw that he hadn’t taken the garbage out, either. Son of a bitch.

“Studying all night. Pshaw! I suppose now I’ll just do everything!”

Seriously, THIS BITCH NEEDS HER COFFEE. Don’t make me make the coffee.

Time to begin the morning battle with the thermostat. 56 degrees in my house! Goddamn!

Took the girls to the bus stop. Wicked cold. Windchill -20F, if you care.

Back to the house for the hot coffee and a text from husband, reading “Fuck it’s cold.”

Yeah, I got that when I couldn’t feel my ass, while my thighs had acquired a mild burning sensation through three layers of pants.
I don’t even lock the door anymore. I’d rather be robbed than try to turn a key with the burning fingertips and the arthritis stiffness. Besides, if anyone’s out in this weather lookin for crimes to commit, they’ve got more moxie than I do.

When the weather is so unreasonable, why the hell should I be reasonable?!?
I let the dog just run her little heart out. I figure if anyone’s walkin around the neighborhood, they deserved to be attacked with licking and have belly rubs demanded of them. I’m sorry squirrels, but if you’re on the ground, maybe you deserve to be shaken to death.
Really fucking cold. Too cold for walking the fucking dog.

Then a call from FIL. “I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m in your driveway now. Your hubby sent me to look at the furnace.”
“Oh, I see that now.”
I wasn’t alarmed, I was pissed the fuck off. If my husband is going to ask a man to come to the house, I expect a warning. Because I’m sure FIL was just delighted to find me in my love monkey jammies and no bra. Christ on a cracker.
What the fuck happened to my husband’s brain? Fried up on textbooks, yeah?

You know what room my furnace is in, right? The ugly laundry room. You know what was in my ugly laundry room? Fuckin laundry! I hate people seeing my dirty laundry. Figurative dirty laundry like this is fine, literal dirty laundry is a big, fat nope. Anxiety.

FIL doesn’t know fuck all about furnaces. I can tell, because his dealings with the furnace match my son’s attitude toward cleaning a chicken: Imma look at it, and maybe poke at it a bit, but I’m not actually going to reach inside.
So he gave me a number to call a guy. Actually, he whipped out his antiquated flip phone and dialed, and then handed me his phone. This was one of the most awkward moments of my life.

Fortunately, he left quickly.

The HVAC guy called me right back. He happened to be a few blocks away. I told him I’d verify the cost of the service call with my husband and call him right back. I lied. I didn’t verify diddly. I put a bra on, and put the laundry away, then called him back and gave him my address.

HVAC guy took the temperature of all rooms, registers and returns. HVAC guy had great news — He could make the house warmer!

i felt free to dance, what with my bra on and everything

i felt free to dance, what with my bra on and everything

He cleaned the ignition thingy and said we could benefit from a new thermostat. It’s a few degrees off.

It’s amazing how much better a person can feel about things once their fucking feet have thawed. By the time The Mister came home, he’d finished his classes for the week, taken the trash to the bin, (I set it outside, like, “Welcome home, Asshole!”) and ended his week by having lunch with the genial Mr Hill.

After school, we took the girls to Skyline Chili, where the waitress not only tied a bib around my neck, but also asked me if I wanted a to-go cup. So yes, my life is pretty fabulous.

The Mister is taking a nap. Shh…*whispers*
When I was in college, I never studied until 5:45am. If I pulled an all-nighter, it was usually for sex, but it might have been a writing assignment, or insomnia, or because HME and I spent four hours at Waffle House without considering decaf.
I graduated college with a 3.2 because I often felt sex and sleep were more important than studying.

So, I’ll just leave you with this:

I’m worried about his stamina.


About joey

Neurotic Bitch, Mother, Wife, Writer, Word Whore, Foodie and General Go-To-Girl
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29 Responses to We say Fuck A Lot: A Rant

  1. meANXIETYme says:

    This is the way the hub and I used to talk to each other when we worked together (and shared an office!). When people used to walk by, they’d always ask how long until the divorce? But it’s how we communicate. And if you don’t like it, fuck you. We’ve been together for over 20 years. 🙂
    (also, hahahaha, loved the post)


  2. A lovely rant Joey. And I’m glad you will no longer be freezing your ass off indoors!


  3. LindaGHill says:

    Ah, ain’t love fuckin’ grand? haha
    Happy you have heat. There’s nothing worse than having to chip the ice off your feet before you get into bed… unless you have a warm back to put them up against. 😀


  4. when I’d read your status I had to laugh, now that I know the full story I have to say I giggled my way through it…awesome rant!


  5. And I was so proud of myself for not reading blogs over the holidays… Today I’m diving back into the blogs I follow, and I’ve been sitting here laughing my ass off at yours. Nice to read your rants again!!!


  6. Stay warm, and loved reading your fuckin’ rant… 🙂


  7. Sherry says:

    ahhh, just about what one would expect in those temperatures. Good rant…I’m sure you feel spectacular…what is that stuff ? chili? bizarro land…I bet it ain’t got chiles in it…HA!


  8. spacurious says:

    joey. can i call you joey? i hope that’s ok. you make me feel normal. and very very happy. great post. really great. but now i want chili. bitch.


  9. Oh dear! That’s fucking cold by the way. My kids’ school would probably call off for the day if it were that cold because so many parents are such vaginas. Your morning rant is what I imagine my wife’s is like every morning. From the dog not being let out to my not helping the kids get up. What the fuck ever, right?! Lol. Your chili looks really good.


  10. maurnas says:

    Same here on the literal dirty laundry thing. One of the reasons why I hate laundromats. The second is that I am convinced I am going to be murdered in one.


  11. Pingback: We Do It Like Bunnies | joeyfullystated

  12. Dylan Dailey says:

    Epic rantage. Joey abides…


  13. Patti Hall says:

    Told you I was moving in.
    “Christ on a cracker.”
    I’ll be over this roaring laughter soon.


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