It's not that I'm antisocial, it's just that I do best with routines, and my weekend routines usually don't include entertaining large amounts of messy, smelly boys. I blame my job, as usually by Thursday every week, I've almost always used up my readily-available being pleasant to people energy source and am running strictly on bitch fumes by Friday. Which means that I was in no way ready to spend all of Sunday in the company of the entire male population of San Diego in my tiny living room to watch football. Seriously. That flat panel TV was probably the worst investment ever. Well, next to my sewing machine, but that doesn't really count since I totally plan on sewing my own coat for winter and saving scads of money in the process. This will justify the disturbing amount of money I've wasted trying to save money.
But.....once some of the guests had departed (well after 7 PM, mind you), I looked around the house and pretty much threw the biggest bitch tantrum you've ever seen. I mean, I spent my morning cleaning, and, as you can imagine, the house looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Total disaster. So, I figured if I acted crazy I would scare off the lingering guests and they wouldn't come back for tomorrow's Monday night football game (go, Chargers!) or the rest of the football season.
So I started to cry very dramatically and you should've seen it, I had snot dripping out of my nose, my breath was coming in huge, heart-wrenching gasps, and I even managed to break some dishes and shout crazy things such as "I want a relationship" and "You complete me". You know, words that usually will send a man running for the door.
It didn't work. These guys are good. They saw right through my evil plan and just shut the door to the mancave (where entrance is only granted if you fart, burp, or grow a pair), and continued on with their flatulent existence.
I'm therefore desperately pleading for all females to have an emergency girl's day at my house next Sunday. We'll enjoy being girls by painting nails, braiding hair, and talking about each other when one of us leaves the room.
Seriously, I need this, or I fear I'll either go completely insane and start scrubbing the house guests with a toothbrush, or, worse, I'll start acting like one of the guys and not care that I'm loud, stink, and have no meaning to my life except through whateverthefuckgamehappenstobeonTV. Either way, I'm screwed unless I get some back-up estrogen ASAP.
7 comments:
Ohhh I got my nails painted while watching a game today, Its awesome, and I rock, so I can pull it off.
I can teach a class on slinging insults the cost is negotiable. It takes years of therapy to undo the damage I can teach you to cause in 5 minutes.
Well worth the price of admission
If I were oh say, 1000 miles closer, I would so be there.
With red nail polish and a pink bra and matching pillowcase for our pillowfight in our bras. Of course.
Oh Kel, I wish I were a lot closer, I totally need a girls weekend!
I say we organize a "Save Kels Sanity" bus trip. It can start in Chicago, wind through Salt Lake and end up at your place for Sunday Girls Night. We will come armed with chick flicks, products to do facials, nail polish in every shade of red, pink, and maybe some fall colors. Oh and of course we will bring all the foo foo girly drinks like cosmos plus the good ol Jesus juice. We can blast man hater music like Alanis Moresette or Pink or whatever while we discuss ways to take over the world.
How does that sound?
I'm so there. I even have several bottles of VERY NICE red wine I got in Chelan over the weekend. I just have to sell husband to pay for the plane ticket. (I'm only coming if it's sunny)
IF only! So does that mean the last two posts where him kissing up for this? but hey at least he was good for a bit!
I know you posted this months ago, but I just happened to find it. I had the same problems with my husband for awhile, the cleaning just to have him and friends destroy the place. I decided to try a strange plan. I went all 50's housewife on him. I would clean the house before the game, make everything nice and cozy, chilled beer, stellar nachos and bbq chicken pizza and guacamole, all from scratch... I'd be sweet and watch the game with them, ask meaningful football questions, but only during commercials...after a game or two, the friends started telling him how lucky he was and how fab I was, and he started believing them, and now he helps out, because after all, when you've got a girl as great as me, you gotta do a little extra to keep her happy.
*wink*
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