Thursday, May 10, 2007

Pretty Pretty Shiny

You know internet, every time I think "damn, I really need to get a job I actually want to work at during the day," I get distracted by something shiny. Like a magazine. I'd much rather read a magazine than send out cover letters and resumes and try to convince people more ambitious than myself that I'm worthy of employment. Why am I so fucking lazy when it comes to getting out of this crap job?

You know what else is shiny? Engagement rings that come with the matching wedding band. Yeah, baby. Those are totally fucking shiny. Mama loves that kinda shine. I finally got my ring ordered on Tuesday. I found it by chance a couple of months ago while searching just to see what was out there. This doesn't need mentioning, but I'm saying it anyway...It. Is. FUCKING. SWEET! And we got a great deal on it, it was about 1/2 off the regular price. Even better? I should get it tomorrow!

I know what you're thinking. But what about the surprise? Having the FI-ance spring it on you at some fancy restaurant or mid-air on a ferris wheel while you eat funnel cake? What about the romance? Where's the cute story in ordering your own ring? Well, I ain't gonna lie. I would love that. Which is why, when Mr. FedEx brings that ring to my j.o.b. tomorrow I'm going to fight with all my heart the urge to just slap that puppy on my finger. Seriously, internet, I've thought about it. I can do this. Open the box, make sure it's ok, and then close it up and not tell anyone I've got it.

When I get home it goes to the FI-ance and he's in charge of figuring out a way to present it to me so that it's all special and shit. And, this has to happen before the weekend is over.


Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Chocolate Ass

I almost cried last night. The urge quickly degraded into short bursts of nervous laughter, but just barely.

What exactly is the issue with boys and messiness? I do not understand. The solution is so simple. Put your jacket in the coat closet. Hang up your pants. Sell those old video games or get rid of them. Why is my FI-ance so hard to train?

To his credit, he's not horrible at keeping up with stuff. As he said last night, "I'm way neater than most straight men." And yeah, he's probably right about that, but I cannot get him to finally do the few things that would make our house look like a real home. And it's not like I'm asking for the place to look like a magazine layout. It just needs to be more organized. I admit some of this is on me (not taking the Goodwill stuff to the donation center, leaving my box of books to sell under the coffee table...), but more of it is the FI-ance.

Case in point. Last night we watched tv from the couch and ate on the coffee table. We always do this because we are tv/movie people and we are also food people. And we don't have a dining room table or enough space in the kitchen to eat in there. After we finished I started to clear things away. The FI-ance shifted in his seat and I saw something.

"Stand up."

"I hope there isn't going to be any yelling."

"Stand. Up."

He did. And what the hell, for the SECOND time in LESS THAN seven days...HE HAD SAT ON CHOCOLATE. I am not even kidding, internet. He's 36 years old and twice this month the man has SAT on food on my couch. What the Hell is wrong with him?

"I'm sorry baby. Please don't be mad at me. I don't mean to sit on food. Really I don't do it on purpose...Come on...I'm a BOY. I'm messy."

I was slowly dissolving. In the grand scheme this is nothing. He's nice and helpful and caring and he bathes. But this? This matters too, internet! And he thinks it's all so funny. I came so close to crying but just couldn't. Why did I want to cry? Because after having the couch for four years I finally got BRAND NEW COUCH COVERS just last month. And every week sees a new stain. Courtesy of the FI-ance. Spaghetti sauce, pizza sauce, computer dirt, and now (twice) chocolate.

So he apologized a lot, but it sorta doesn't matter. I know he didn't mean to do it, but he laughed through the whole apology!

"That's why we got the covers, so we can wash them."

"As much as you spill food they'll be thread-bare in less than a month."

"Oh, honey, come on. What do you expect from me?"

"I expect you to not fucking sit on chocolate! You didn't even move! How does food get UNDER your ass when you don't even move! What the fuck is wrong with you!? From now on I wash the clothes, underwear and towels, and you can wash the sheets, blankets and slipcovers. Seriously fucker."

I didn't go to bed angry or anything because I was never angry. Just really, abidingly disappointed. I feel like I should just serve dinner on the couch. Fuck all the dishes we've got. Or dye the covers (Did I mention the couch is natural colored? Oh yes, it's that bad.) black so nothing but cat hair ever shows.

Dammit, internet! Why can't a girl living with a boy have nice things? Whhhhyyyyy!?


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