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| Subject: Hey Rhonda (I Seek Your Femine Counsel | |
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Author: Jimmy |
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Date Posted: 08:06:02 06/08/08 Sun Author Host/IP: c-71-197-21-126.hsd1.mi.comcast.net/71.197.21.126 Yesterday on the way to work I started crying while listening to "Come Alive" by Foo Fighters because it made me think of my baby and I decided right then and there to commit completely to doing everything necessary to making her happy. The Church says (if you watch "Scott Baio is 46 and pregnant") the greatest gift a man can give his child is to love his mother. Additionally, we've been watching "Knocked Up" repeatedly and Seth Rogan's transformation is so awesome and easy-to-follow that I also had a plan already in mind. The main objective was to find the strength to not fire back at her when she yelled at me. This is very hard for me. In fact, yelling back at somebody yelling at me is something I pride myself on so highly it was one of the reasons I joined the Marines...to test my mettle. In any case, I left work earlier than I had planned and decided to finish up the outline for my presentation at home feeling that effort would demonstrate my commitment and that she would leave me alone. All of a sudden she got a bug up her ass to go to IKEA. It was hot out and I didn't want her going alone so I went. Next thing I know I have baby bottles in my hand from the shower and we're also going to Babies-R-Us to return them because of the BPA or something. I didn't mind either. Babies-R-Us is actually a pretty cool store with lots of shit that I want to get my baby girl plus there's some pretty interesting books there. As for IKEA, it wasn't what I'd expected. I knew nothing about it save for the thrashing it took in "Fight Club". I was surprised to learn it was a value store and not the expensive chic I assumed. I guess Pahlniak (sp?) took exception to it based on its marketing campaign which does seem to suggest IKEA can provide you with everything and people do get hooked on that but since it all defaults into unity and cohesiveness I can dig that a little. What I can't dig is the stoic vibe the place throws off. When I asked the lady at the checkout counter if they took American money she stared at me with a look that suggested doleful pride. She knew I was insulting IKEA (and therefore her in extension based on IKEAs branding) but she didn't know what I was saying. Thinking I'd done my deed and could now return home to get back to work, she then asks if we could get something to eat. Fine, whatever you want. She picks a goddamn Chiles. I HATE THESE PLACES!!! And after scoffing and suggesting a greasy spoon near the house she let me know that I had promised to turn over a new leaf. SEE, THAT RIGHT THERE is when you know someone is manipulating you. But I agreed and of course we get a cute-ass little, perky blonde that I won't be able to flirt with her. I keep my head down the whole time I'm there because there would have been no way I could have kept my eyes off her ass. And I did stare at it for 5 seconds right after she finished her greeting and went to check on the table across from us. I only mention the girl briefly on the way out but in such a way as to not exacerbate her pregnant-bodied self esteem (I don't get this. Why do women feel this way about their bodies while pregnant? WE ALL KNOW YOU'RE PREGNANT!!!? Even a guy like me is willing to make a concession in this case). Ultimately, the answer lies in the fact that women today are very self-absorbed and haven't come to terms with their post feminist roles...and they never will based on my understanding of science. All right, so she leaves to go to her nieces ballet recital and I have the whole place to myself. However, the chilie I ate at Chile's has destroyed my Adderall motivation and I stop off for a 6-pack of Heineken on the way home. Then I feel lazy and need to get some work done (oh yeah, by the way, I'm doing the laundry now...nothing will change. RIGHT!). I pop one but I'm too tired for it to have any effect. I do a little here and there and realize that not only do I now run the risk of being up all night but also my body may be suffering from a build up of semen. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, I'm going to I start searching the internet for catfights. 5 hours later, my fastidious tastes still haven't found one to trigger my sick head. She calls on her cell letting me know she'll be home in an hour. I begin to panic knowing that I have to take care of this before she gets home. I finally find a great one I once had downloaded 6 years ago on some site called str8tup.com (if anyone's interested in the link, lemme know) and just as I'm about to clear my mind and immerse myself into the 6-minute masterpiece she pops through the door. I tell her I didn't get to the laundry because some Mexican was down there with his clothes sprawled out all over the floor separating his whites and darks (did you know that there are three categories? I never did. And that you have to wash them on succinct levels? In the Marines I knew to separate the whites...ho-ho...but I never knew there were specified levels). Expecting her to start bitching I let her know, rudely, that I'll do it tomorrow and that I'm not taking the dog out and neither is she (that's another thing she does. Valiantly taking out the dog to imply that I'm a a lazy no-good fuck and then I feel guilty and then I worry something bad will happen while she's out there ,to teach me a lesson, so of course I get up and take the fucking dog out. I wait for her to go to bed so I can get back to what I was doing. FINALLY, she does after only a minor spat regarding how rude I was. But then, she starts coming out every half-hour or so. Why? Because we both know I'm looking at porn. And she knows that she can make me feel guilty. Eventually, after her fourth excursion into the living room I blow up. She starts to cry but I don't feel bad. If anything, it only serves to act as a catalyst for my vitriolic thoughts, which are innocuously expressed in a quiet mantra: "Go Away. Go Away. Go Away." She starts to cry but then she leaves. Well, a half-hour later she's back. She comes out on the couch, drinks a glass of water and goes back to bed. We say nothing to each other. The next time I heard the door open I went batshit crazy and started screaming at her to leave me alone. Her first approach was to play the innocent card by saying she wasn't doing anything but as my rage swelled and my mouth began to unleash more vicious attacks she then played the Oprah card by implying that she's not a prisoner in her room. I begin screaming so loudly that she plays her ace card: "I'm calling the police." This one's kinda scary because they all know her and I don't need that kind of shit. At any rate, I'm so mad that I'm at the level where I don't care what happens. Realizing her bluff has been called, she hangs up and begins crying and I tell her to shut up. This sends the remote flying across the room where a quick shift allows me to take it in the back. It fucking hurt. For good measure she raced over and threw 5-6 punches into my face before slamming the lamp to the ground shattering it and then resuming her crying. Now, she's got the fucking vacuum out and I just can't believe it. I YELL AT HER TO GO AWAY once more which prompts her to play the one card she should have initially if she wanted to win: "Why, so you can look at your porn?" Ohhhhhhh...... Lunging for the computer she shouted, "Give me my computer!" I instantly slam it shut and cover it up like a newborn baby. After crying for another 15 minutes and attempting to make me feel guilty (only through crying and victim status--not the porn) she finally goes to bed. Is porn the problem? Or is it the fact that I need my space every once in a while. And MUCH MORE than most. I secluded myself in a trailer one summer and got away from all the distractions that frustrated me my whole life. No Adderall. Well now I've got Adderall and can get a whole lot deeper. It's barely ever related to pornography, which I look at maybe once a week, and mostly only on YouTube which isn't even porn. Just weird fetish stuff for perverted Catholics. Am I wrong to demand my space occasionally AFTER I put in a hard day's work of fulfilling her quest for palliatives? Or do I have to be completely devoted to her every need during this period? I tried so hard. And got so far. But in the end It doesn't even matter [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |
| Subject | Author | Date |
| Re: Hey Rhonda (I Seek Your Femine Counsel | Rhonda | 22:22:42 06/13/08 Fri |
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