Rest Your Neck
I�m so happy for Saturday! With only my kids to take care of, it�s like bliss. I might be bitching about them shortly, as they are eating boxes of those Necc0 hearts (made right in good ol� Reveah Mass). Yey. Nothing like hyped up kids on a Saturday morning.
As usual, my husband supplied me with some wonderful misinformation. No, we are NOT signing on the business this morning. We are just going over everything. I don�t know if anyone can understand my utter frustration with this man. He is making me insane.
Here�s another example. He gets a call from across the street, where our landlord lives. They, too, are on a private road with four duplexes (the homeowners and landlords split the cost of plowing). Their driveway is totally from hell, though. Anyway, they get a cheap price from us for plowing. Very fucking cheap. Like at least $150 less if not more per storm than any other plow guy or landscaping company would charge. At least. They haven�t paid a dime yet and owe upwards of $1600. Hub got in touch with the guy we bill it to to find out what�s up. I should have never let Hub do that. Because he comes back saying, �I told him we�d give him a breakdown of the charges� because one of the landlords is a property management company and they want to know how it�s broken down.
I�m thinking this guy hasn�t so much as looked at one of our bills, because he wants an itemized bill. It�s fucking as itemized as it gets, pal. The date of the storm, charges for salt and sand, and charges if it�s over 12� of snow. And the addresses that were plowed. Right there. There�s no fucking other way to break it up, period. I was so pissed at Hub. I tried to give him a simple metaphor. �You handling the billing is like me going out to someone�s house and taking measurements and ordering brick for a retaining wall. I�d fuck it all up. Picture me mowing a lawn. Or building a patio�.
But, as usual, I�m the bitch. Perhaps I should get myself a title for that. I�d like Queen Bitch, but maybe something a little more military-ish. Lt. Corporal Bitch. Sgt. Bitch. Master Commander Bitch. Colonel Bitch. Yeah. Colonel Bitch.
In happier news, here�s the cutest conversation I had with Mickey last night. I wrote it down right after because it was adorable. I really should look into one of those audio blogs because it�s way cuter if ya hear the voice. Another thing it would be cute for is Minnie, the latest singing sensation. She listens to her CD player and sings away, it�s adorable, but should I be worried when my 6 year old daughter sings �gonna have a little fun, gonna get me some, I�m here for the party, yeah!� while she shakes her rump-ah.
Anyway, me and Mickey:
Mickey: Daddy has da coldest beer.
Me: Why?
Mickey: Because he do. His is da coldest.
Me: Is beer good or bad?
Mickey: It�s bad.
Me: Why?
Mickey: It�s bad to me. It�s not bad to you.
Me: Why is it bad to you? Does it taste bad?
Mickey: No. (pause). I like green beer.
Me: Really?
Mickey: Yup. Warm green beer.
Kid cracks my ass up. Warm green beer. We don�t even drink green beer, so it�s just funny as hell to figure out where the hell he got that.
In better news, it was looking as if we might not have been going out to our little shindig tonight, which bummed my ass out. Butthead had a wrestling tournament that would go until late, and any other sitters we use weren�t available. But, this morning, we find that Butthead is a poor teammate, and did not get up for his meet. Claiming last night he didn�t know what time to be there, regardless of the wrestling schedule and list of phone numbers for the whole team including the coach and assistant coach. No wonder I call him Butthead. He is.
Anyway, his poor team spirit results in my having a sitter for the evening!! Whoo! I�m going out, baby. Sad thing is, Gina and Joe were supposed to go (see previous entry). I guess he is looking at a month in the hospital. Way the fuck up in Dartmouth. Mickey was up there for a while right when his heart defect was diagnosed. I had a choice of going there or Boston for his MRI and didn�t hesitate to choose Boston. Fuck Dartmouth. But, had I chosen that, I could�ve visited Joe. Anyway.
I�m curious as to the bunch that Robert has gotten together for this shindig. Hopefully it won�t turn out like New Year�s Eve, the last time we went out with them. Well, I won�t be chomping down mushrooms, that�s for sure. Hub had opened his mouth a few days later and told Robert that I was embarrassed about what happened that night, which wasn�t quite true, I was just pissed at Robert�s wife Rhonda for being a bitch. But Robert threw in his favorite saying to Hub, �Tell her to rest her neck�. Yeah. Rest your neck.
Yak, yak, yak. I have to go shower. This entry was soley for those of us that still hang out on dland on the weekends. Which, we�re the coolest, by the way. Fuck them weekday updaters with their weekend lives and their Monday weekend updates and shit. Fuck them. But, shhhhhhh, don�t be all telling them I said that. They don�t even know I update on the weekend.
I kid, I kid. Except about the part about us being the coolest.
I�m outta here.
Ciao!