And the pizza was damn good too!

 

Man, last night was a suck.

and today is not looking like it wants to be nicer to me.

See these vegetables?

They were the building blocks of an awesome asian rice dish I was making. I was even going to take pictures of all the steps and do a big delicious picto-recipe for peeps.

but no… it all had to go to hell.

While chopping up the steak for said dish, I mentioned to Baboo "We need new knives!"

This meat from Costco was really poorly butchered. I mean, usually, the meat I get from Costco is awesome. Trim and delicious. But this was crap. It had that hard rubbery fat all over it in big chunks. And our knives suck. I could barely cut through the meat, and it awas annoying.

It’s really difficult being a good cook with dull stupid knives that won’t cut SHIT … unless it’s your finger OFF. (NO, i didn’t lose a finger or cut myself, but I almost did a few times… thank god my reflexes are still good)

Anyway… when I said that he said "They’ll just get thrown in the trash."

I looked at him sorta cross eyed and said "Uh, no, not the big ones!"

You see, for some reason, my children or SOMEONE in the house keeps throwing away our butter knives. We had about 2 dozen… and now we have like 3. I have no idea where they went, except for thrown away.

This is what happens when you let children make their own toast.

ANYWAY!!!

So of course, from that little altercation, a stupid "fight" springs up over the knives I’m referring to.

And he’s being weird and saying "They’ll end up in the trash!"

and I’m saying "No! they won’t! I’m the only person who even uses them!"

and he’s like "trash!" and then i’m like "fine! lets keep these dull knives and I won’t be able to trim any meat and then you’ll wine because the meat will have fat on it!"

(which he does. He hates fat and I try to trim meat before I cook it cuz he makes faces at shit)

And then, the anvil.

My lovely children were in the room and my oldest son says, "Ohhhh you got SERVED!"

Which in turn pissed Baboo off and he sent him out of the room and proceeded to stomp out himself.

I knew immediately that he was upset … mainly because I disresepected him in front of the children.

He proceeded to start playing dead space in a total bratty pout.

I finish slicing the meat as best I can (losing a good serving of steak in the process because of the stupid dull knives, and I tried THREE of them) and do up the veggies and such.

Well, it was smelling and looking SO GOOD.

And I made a big pot of it.

But I knew I had to apologize to Baboo and I wanted to do it right away.

So I sent my kids out of the room (they were watching him play the game), got on my knees in front of him and apologized, vowing to not do that again. I know that’s a terrible thing to do when raising children and I knew I was wrong. i was even planning on giving him a surprise blow job later to make up for it…

He proceeds to just look at me and say,  "What do you want me to do."

And i’m like… "Forgive me?"

and he just looks at me with this mean face.

So I say, "So you’re gonna stay mad?"

and he’s like "Yep."

and I’m like "For how long?"

and he says "A while. Until I cool off."

 And it was like a punch to my gut.

I fucking apologized and I don’t expect him to start buying me roses and kissing my toes… but he could still forgive me even if he IS still steaming.

So now I need to cry.

so I go in the bathroom, lay in the tub like a lunatic and cry.

MEANWHILE, the food on the stove burns.

YAAAAAAAY.

So when I get back to it, i’m even more upset.

I serve everyone’s food and then I go to sit in the car so he can have space to cool off. Plus, I didn’t want to be in the room with him either at this point.

He comes out after a few minutes and tells me to come inside.

Not wanting to disrespect him again, I listen.

But i just go to the bed and lay down.

He proceeds to nag me to eat until I finally get up and get a small bowl of what is now a ruined dish.

It was alright… after I poured a bunch of chili sauce on it.

When I’m finished I go to the kitchen, which looks like it exploded. My little brother didn’t do dishes and is lounging on his bed like he’s not GOING TO. And I’m just not in the mood to yell at anyone.

so I do the dishes.

I proceed to:

*Break 2 glasses

*Find my slap chop impersonator (my favorite kitchen tool right now) is broken

*Cry into the bubbles with nobody caring.

So now, not only is he mad, i’m mad.

and so i pout and pout and pout.

Baboo and I sorta patch things up at this point, but I’m still upset.

and my emotional eater comes RAGING out, craving pizza.

we bought some of the frozen kind I really like (mama celeste! mmmm) for some reason and I wanted one.

i ask him if i can have it and he’s like "No eat something else"

BUT I DON’T WANT ANYTHING ELSE, I WANT A PIZZA!!!!!

But I try to wait it out, maybe the craving will pass.

but i feel poutier and poutier and I WANT IT!!!

So finally i say "Screw this! I’m gonna do what I want! and if I want a pizza treat! I’ll have it!"

so I do.

and goddamn it,…

As soon as the first bite is in my mouth I’m happy.

Emotional Eating indeed.

We then proceed to watch a bunch of Burn Notice episodes and I attempt to go to sleep…

where I proceed to have dreams about babies all night.

That’s 2 baby dreams in one week.

<p>In this dream, it’s another boy and I’m so excited and he’s so cute.

Terrible.

What the fuck?

So then this morning, the first message I get when I get to my desk is from baboo screaming about how, "I didn’t do breakfast".

I am supposed to fill up cereal bags for the kids cuz they like to waste and make messes.

Well, exscuse me if I keep forgetting, it’s not like anyone is reminding me. It’s also not like SOMEONE can’t take a few minutes to pour them some dumb ass mother fucking cereal!!!!!!

OH!!!

And what I thought was the first day of school ISN’T.

The first day of school is not Sept 7th.

It’s the 13th.

So I’m still taking the 7th off. Kill all that noise.

But now I’m also going to take the 13th.

god, i’m such a whiny bitchy brat, aren’t I.

So that’s my rant of the day.

The moral? Pizza is delicious and makes me happy… and so do really sharp knives.

 

 

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  Last Words (A zombie apocalypse survival diary, for your reading pleasure and future knowledge when they take over the world. Yes, I am the author.)