I went over to my Dad’s house this weekend. The Brat spent the weekend, while I went to visit The Boy in NorCal.
When I get there my stepmother asks me if The Man wants this:
My guess is all those pointy things are called NEEDLES for a reason
Which. He does. I didn’t even have to ask him. Which is fine, since, he wasn’t there.
As you can see, it’s huge #thatswhatshesaid
And it takes us some time to figure out how the hell we’re going to get it in my carrito. We decide to roll it to my car. Which, easy enough. HOW TO GET IN INSIDE MY CAR was another matter. We decide that we’re going to wrap it in some rags and I’ll sort of help her pick it up and put in in the backseat. We finally wrestled it into the backseat and then I drove home (but not before stopping my my cousin’s house to pick up me and The Brat’s souvenirs from her trip to Hawai’i).
F YOUR I:
- If you’re going to rest a huge ceramic pot that contains a cactus on your legs before boosting it all the way into your car, you should make sure that the part you lean on your bare leg is the pot. NOT THE CACTUS.
- Cacti have sharp parts.
- If I call you and tell you that I have something that’s heavy, that I’m going to need you to get out of my car when I get home, YOU SHOULD FIND OUT WHAT IT IS. ESPECIALLY if it’s covered in rags.
- Otherwise, you may find out the hard way that I have a MOTHERFUCKING CACTUS hidden under a pile of rags in my backseat.
- See #2.
- I laugh inappropriately at everything.
Actual living, breathing, THINKING humans – 0
*Yeah, you didn’t think the stepmother got away unscathed did you?
Yesterday was my Anniversary. This anniversary is kind of weird for me. I have now had my married name for as long as I had my maiden name. Also? This is age that I got married: 19. I have been married for 19 years. I am completely shocked that we managed to make it that long. SRSLY.
I’m also pretty amazed that he chooses every day to be married to me. Especially when I do things like this to him:
"Congratulations! I've managed to stay married to you for 19 years! I'm awesome (and you're patient)"
I wrote this on his car window at 5AM in the dark on my way to the gym. He didn’t even know I had done this until I was LONG GONE on my way to work. Also? It’s hard to take a picture in the middle of night (or at 5AM) without a flash. And even harder to take a GOOD picture when I’m still mostly sleeping, and I haven’t had any coffee. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
I really am the best kind of wife.
So this weekend, I went to my aunt’s for a surprise party. She turned 70 on Saturday. (sidenote: I’m not sure that I would want to surprise a 70 year old woman with a heart condition, but at least she didn’t have a heart attack?)
It was good times, y’all. We sat outside and ate fried chicken and drank beer (Sometimes, the stereotypes find ME, y’all). And there was cake. Yummy delicious, sugar filled cake. Which I normally wouldn’t mention, but diabetes runs rampant in black families, y’all. MINE ESPECIALLY. And usually, the people whose diet has no such restrictions (aka ME) get the short end of the stick at these functions. Sugar > sugar substitute. Any day of the week.
And there were gifts. Lots of them. I didn’t stick around for the gift opening portion of the program because a) I hate watching people open gifts and, b) I didn’t get anything because I had to get there early to help my cousin with the set up, thus cutting into my last-minute gift buying time. Bonus: Because my gift is already late, I have time to do some leisurely shopping, instead of frantic “OMG! I have 30 minutes to buy God only knows what” shopping.
But I kinda wish I *had* stuck around. Because I totally wanted to know what THIS gift was:
Sense of Humor. Old people haz it.