Have you ever seen a news item on television about someone who has been murdered? And the police are all baffled as to what could possibly have happened? And the reporter tells you that the police are talking to the spouse, but that he or she is in no way a suspect?
Fuck that.
In a marriage? If one of you ends up dead on purpose?
Duh.
If I ever end up dead at the hands of someone else, you can bet that those hands belonged to Mark. Not that he would ever kill me, but I can be really fucking annoying sometimes, and everyone has a breaking point. So if you ever read that I am dead, and Mark is talking to the police but is in “no way considered a suspect?”
Speak up, please. Because he so fucking killed me.
And right before that happened? I was probably really fucking annoying.
Which brings me to today’s post . . .
Top ten reasons Mark could be killed today if I were the sort of person who was driven completely insane by small petty shit and whose fucking breaking point has been reached.
1) He is clearing his throat endlessly. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with him, but he keeps making a gravelly ahem noise which prompts me to say, “What?”
And then he says, “What?”
And then I say, “Were you going to say something?”
And then he says, “What are you talking about?”
And then I say, “Sigh.”
And then he says, “Ahem.”
2) Last night we had a serious conversation in which I asked him to help me clean the house today. He was all agreeable. Today? Today, he cannot seem to figure out what might need to be cleaned. It all looks just fine to him, and why am I always so worried about having the house clean, anyway?
He does this every fucking time, and every fucking time? I am annoyed.
3) Did I mention that his sister and her husband and their two sons and the older son’s girlfriend are arriving tomorrow for a five-day stay?
Fine. I will fucking clean the house myself. I stomp off and slam a few things.
And then Mark says, “Why are you so crabby?”
3) So I throw that Carpet-Fresh powder down on the basement carpet in order to fight off the dampish basement odor that has been permeating everything lately. And then I vacuum it all up, leaving the basement all clean and fresh-smelling. Yay!
Mark comes through and says, “Ahem.”
Which I ignore, because he has been ahemming all day.
But then he is louder, “Ahem.”
“What?”
“The smell of that powdery crap is making my throat all itchy. I think that’s why I need to keep clearing my throat.”
“OK, yeah, but the powder smell has been here for 10 minutes and your throat clearing? You’ve been doing that all morning.”
“Ahem. Ahem. Ahem. I definitely think the powder is making my throat scratchy.”
“OK, well . . . I will vacuum again then.”
“No, it’s just ahem here to ahem stay. Don’t ahem worry about it. Ahem. I will be ahem fine.”
4) This conversation, shortly after I ask Mark to tell Kallan to clean her room . . .
I say, “Did you ask Kallan to clean her room?”
“No, ahem but I told her that her desk is really messy ahem in the computer room upstairs. She wants to ahem move the extra chair in there, and I told her to clean ahem up her desk first.”
“So she’s not cleaning her room?
“No, she’s sort ahem of cleaning her desk or ahem maybe putting that box ahem of stuff away or listening to music. I’m not ahem sure. She might be ahem cleaning her desk or ahem maybe that box of stuff and she has that ahem new CD I think she’s listening to.”
“Jesus Christ. I need her to clean her room!”
“Oh, I didn’t tell ahem her that. Was I ahem supposed to tell her that? You should ahem probably tell her that. Her room does ahem need to be cleaned.”
What . . . the . . . fuck?
5) We just ate lunch, and he did that thing he does where he holds his glass with both hands, pinkies extended. Jesus, when I am in a bad mood? That pisses me off.
6) He walked by and suggested that the lawn? It does not need cutting after all. Which means that the only job he seems to think is his today? Is done without actually having to be done.
7) He has realized (again, but it’s brand new every time) that the only possible sleeping arrangement when we add five people to our house means that the family room (with the large-screen television) will be taken up with our two girls, their bedding, and all of their belongings. And then he puzzled through all of the other possible sleeping arrangements to see if there is one that allows him access to the television after the girls go to bed.
There isn’t.
And we have been through this before.
8) He pointed out that the smaller stupid dog needs to be bathed and brushed and groomed. I do not have time today to bathe and brush the dog. And I do not want to take the dog to the groomer without having bathed and brushed him, because one time? I did that . . . and the groomer shaved him.
And then I had a bald shivery dog.
It was traumatizing. For me and the dog.
Mark knows this.
9) Mark just asked me if there was a reason I left the creamer out on the kitchen counter. No, there is obviously not a fucking reason I left the creamer out on the kitchen counter. Who the fuck would do that on purpose? God, he is annoying.
So I say, “No.”
And he says, “I’ll just put it away, then.”
And then I do not say, “Wait! Let me come up there and appreciate this fabulous moment! Hold on! I want to be all oooh-y and ahhh-y and clapping as you put the creamer away!”
But I want to.
Instead I just say, “Thanks.”
10) He just told me to relax.
He does not seem to realize the jeopardy into which his words place him.
Sigh.
At the end of the day?
Mark will be alive. I am strong that way.
But at the end of the day . . . if I am dead?
Speak up, people.
Because he so fucking killed me.
And right before that happened? I was probably really fucking annoying.
Ahem.
I hate that stupid annoying throat clearing sound. Drives me fucking insane and then I get all smartassy and start doing it louder everytime he does it. I doubt it has the same effect on him but I do it anyway in an attempt to piss him off too.
Hope your day/weekend gets better!!!
I hate houseguests.
I love the people, but not in my house.
Don’t tell them I said so, because they are lovely.
I completely understand!
At my house its so much work to keep everything clean and things put back where they go and act like normal people when guests are over for more than a day. Usually after 24 hours, my family reverts back to the messy screaming banchees they usually are.
I love them dearly but they make some things harder than they should be sometimes
Sometimes?
Everything at my house is harder than it has to be because of these people.
I would miss them if they were gone, but things would be much much neater around here.
If you kill Mark, we’ll all testify on your behalf.
I know this should scare me off coupledom and cohabitation and marriage, but I kind of found it endearing. You’re really funny when you’re annoyed.
Mark does not find me amusing when I am annoyed.
I am glad that you do.
And marriage? It is mostly fabulous.
Ahem.
You don’t seem that annoying. You do have my permission to kill Mark though. He is the annoying one and I personally feel there isn’t a judge in this land that would find you guilty. Mark is guilty of being annoying beyond a reasonable doubt. Can’t stand the AHEMs.
Mark suggests here that I left out some of the more irritating and annoying things I have said and done today.
But I say that I have told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
Just as I will in court.
Snort!
Love the tags because if Brian was less patient and tolerant? I would be a pile of bones in a box.
Brian, on the other hand, is seriously fucking lucky that when he calls me every. fucking. day. at 3 pm to ask what’s for dinner, I can’t actually reach his throat.
Why for the love of God? Why that fucking phone call? I’m glad you asked; it’s so that he can try to change my mind if it’s something he doesn’t like.
Like I said: lucky for him I can’t reach his throat through the phone.
The girls do that to us. They come to us all sweetly to ask what’s for dinner at about 3:00 in the afternoon.
And just like your husband? They do this so that they have time to throw a huge whiny fit if it turns out dinner is something they hate. And then maybe we will change our minds and let them eat donuts.
Annoying.
I bet it’s an excuse to check in on you. Maybe he misses you? My husband always asks what’s for dinner, and then when I ask if there’s something particular he has in mind, or if spaghetti’s okay, he always just says he doesn’t care. Um, if you don’t care why call and ask?
I finally figured out it’s just because he likes to touch base with me during the day. Sweet. Though why he doesn’t do it with a Candygram, I’m not really sure.
When mine ask “What are you making for dinner?” like they do everyday, I turn all smartassy and everday I give them the exact same answer and say “We are having dinner” no specifics just dinner. It usually makes them both very mad and fussy but in my world, if they really want to know what “I am making”, they can make it themselves.
Terrible parenting on my part
You are better than I am.
I get all smart-assy and say that we are having “toad butts and chicken poop soup.”
They love when I do that.
Also, *ahem* I love this *ahem* post. ;) I feel like it is possible we are related in some way. Also, Mark needs to clean. Not. Joking.
I agree. But at the moment?
He is all busy working on the computer and cannot be disturbed.
He is hopeful that when he emerges? Everything is all done and he can make noises about how there really wasn’t that much to do after all. Sigh.
I think we may have married one and the same person. The whole “why can’t you just relax” bit nearly makes me homicidal everytime. My husband doesn’t “ahem”. He, instead, has a smoker’s cough which he denies is smoker’s cough.
On the flip side, 90% of the time I find myself uproariously funny when he (or anyone else) may not and yet he continues to love me; so fair enough.
Yes, I know there are good things (many many good things) about being married to Mark.
Help with the house-cleaning is not one of them.
And I hate house-guests.
Or did I already say that?
If I ever wind up dead? I probably shot MYSELF because Rob can be so freaking annoying! He isn’t even here and reading that and thinking about all the annoying things he does already has me pissed off at him for being annoying. Just wait until he gets home! Kidding. Sort of.
Does your husband also do annoying things in your dreams? Things that you wake up all annoyed at him for doing even though he in no way did any of the things about which you dreamed?
Sigh.
Yes! How dare they annoy our dreams. Is there no justice in this world?!
Why two number threes?
Because I was all done and then Mark told me to relax.
I hate lists with 11 items.
So I just put in two #3s.
Snort!
Because she’s trying to get people to correct her. And when they do? She will then change the error & call YOU the crazy one! snort!
Hee Hee!
I may have done that one time.
This time, however? It was not a mistake. Lists with 11 items are stupid. Lists with two #3 are all sensible.
And I did wonder if anyone would notice it.
OK makes sense. Husbands can be annoying.
Yes, indeed.
One word to save everyone’s sanity: hotel
If you are paying?
I am sure they would love to take you up on your offer.
Plan B: Purchase a large-ish tent from Walmart and a heat source for their comfort. The whole thing will run under $200.
LODGING: $110 for one tent for everyone http://www.walmart.com/ip/Ozark-Trail-3-Room-XL-Vacation-Lodge/10996294
HEATING: $50 for outdoor heating, not including the price of Dur-a-flame logs
http://www.walmart.com/ip/Better-Homes-and-Garden-Iron-Outdoor-Fire-Pit/7976522
or… $150 for nicer heating
http://www.costco.com/Browse/Product.aspx?Prodid=11472510&search=patio%20heater&Mo=5&cm_re=1_en-_-Top_Left_Nav-_-Top_search&lang=en-US&Nr=P_CatalogName:BC&Sp=S&N=5000043&whse=BC&Dx=mode+matchallpartial&Ntk=Text_Search&Dr=P_CatalogName:BC&Ne=4000000&D=patio%20heater&Ntt=patio%20heater&No=1&Ntx=mode+matchallpartial&Nty=1&topnav=&s=1
Best of all… it’s reusable. Remind your guests of that fun fact. Next time, they’ll pay their own way to stay at a hotel/motel. Trust me. If not, Mark gets his patio heater he wants and you’ll be set for when you go camping. Win-win scenario.
ahem
ahem
ahem
ahem
SNORT
Did I ever tell you that one time my sister and her boyfriend asked to come home and live with my mom for while?
And that she made them live in the back yard in a tent?
For real.
They didn’t stay long.
Which I guess was her point.
Mark’s sister and her husband? They are going to be all kinds of pissed off if they read this.
Love you, Lynda! Love you, Dave!
And the house? It is sort of messy.
Mark’s fault.
I am too busy giggling. Love you, Axel!
It is weird that I just envisioned the evening news report where they’re saying that Mark is in no way a suspect, except then the anchorwoman says, “In an interesting turn of events, hundreds of Kris’ blog readers are emailing the Lake Oswego Police Department with a simple and startling message: Mark so fucking killed her?”
I have maybe been working on the novel again, and it tends to make me a little melodramatic…
How excellent if I ran away from home for a few days and went into hiding while Mark’s family visited?
And then their whole vacation would be taken up with visits from police and angry blog readers.
That would be awesome.
And not melodramatic at all. Snort!
AHEM
Your site ate my post… unmoderate me please, you’ll like my post.
AHEM
please
SNORT
I loved your comment!
I was off being crabby for a while, but now I am back.
And I loved your comment.
Your posts often make me want to leave comments in list format.
So ok.
In no particular order:
1. If the creamer in question was Carnations NEW Honey-Vanilla, you can leave it on the counter. Better yet, throw it in the trash and call a priest because that stuff is from the devil.
2. I read “monkey hands” in the comments but heard “monkey paws” in my head and I wondered where the tragically ironic wishing had happened and how I missed it.
3. It’s always the spouse. Even if they have an alibi, it just means they hired someone.
4. Testicle often create crap-dirt-grime-clutter blindness. My response to this phenomenon in the past is to suggest that as a cure, the testicles could be removed.
This has actually resulted in things being vacuumed. Once or twice.
1) I don’t buy flavored creamer, so I am safe. Although the rest of you? Listen to Lori, because she is an authority and the creamer of which she speaks is apparently dreadful.
2) Monkey-hands refers to an older post in which Mark’s habit of drinking like a monkey was discussed and mocked. A lot.
3) Agreed. Tell Nigel (he is here somewhere), because he thinks he is all wily.
4) Mark’s testicles, in all their glory, are unharmed and unmolested in any way.
For now.
ahem…i’m tellin ya – they learned that shit in fucking engineering school. i think the hubs took the class all eight semesters. also? i hate houseguests…i would rather be blind in one eye than have to deal with houseguests. Especially? the kind that think your house needs to be all clean and shit when they come. And then they leave and it’s even worse dirty than it was before. fucking people – get a room.
btw…i managed to spend a few hours at the pool today holding my girlfriends two month old baby. that? helps the “i fucking hate everyone” mood some!
also? have i told you lately how much i heart you? way way much!
Love right back at you.
I was struck down by a hideous headache for a while (strangely, behind just one eye, which is way weird, given your comment’s wording). I have decided that fuck it is the way to go. Now that I have just the one eye with which to view the house?
Everything looks much much better.
And I am glad you got some baby time! It is good for what ails a lot of people, I have heard.
Not me . . . I hate babies.
Wow. He’s still alive? I’d have killed him by now. I think the key is to have a really good alibi.
That ahem thing drives me bonkers as well as “What? I think the room looks good.” then 20 mins later “This room is a MESS! When do you have time to clean it today? I have company coming in a half hour!!”
Me? Me clean it? What?!?! Do I look like a maid?
No wait, don’t answer that. I’m a Mom, of course I look like a maid.
M
There is no alibi good enough.
If your husband is dead and killed? You are fucked.
And not in a good way.
I would never kill my wife.
Never.
And nobody would be able to prove otherwise once she disappears.
Because I am wily. And the lake is deep.
You are not that wily.
And the lake is not that deep.
And your wife? She has sent me letters to be delivered in case of her untimely death. Just in case.
Just so you know.
Must you poop on every murder that I contemplate? Must you?
You are so not fun.
Strangers on a Train.
Now you’re talking.
And bonus: when we’re done, I can get on with my dream of being a tennis celebrity!
And I?
I will finally be able to pursue my dream of being a professional pole dancer.
Mark is forever stomping on my dreams.
I like your dream better than mine.
The outfits are way more sexy.
I’ll start saving up my dollar bills now, so I’ll be ready for you.
Ooooh . . . dollar bills would be excellent!
I was wondering how I was going to be all sexy while squatting to pick up loose change.
You are all geniusy with the dollar bill idea!
It was either that or Target gift cards.
I thought the plastic edges might injure delicate areas once inserted in sexy clothes, however.
See? It’s all about your comfort.
Would the Target gift cards be for large dollar amounts?
Because I could fashion a slutty outfit made entirely of gift-card envelopes into which these lovely things could be slipped.