I did not want to go to the stupid Oregon Brewers Festival. At all.
But we went, because I am just that fucking awesome.
And Mark really wanted to go.
Plus, my sister was there with her family, and I did want to see them.
But I didn’t want to go to the stupid brewers festival.
But I went.
I told Mark . . . I don’t want to drink any beer, because I have a headache and my back hurts and I am feeling all bloated and I am all hormonal and cranky and it is hot and it is the middle of the day and I want to be able to get stuff done when we get home and if I drink beer in the middle of the afternoon I will just be tired and fuzzy-headed and then I won’t get anything done and then Sunday will be wasted so I do not want to drink any beer.
I could not have been more clear.
And so Mark spent the afternoon plying me with beer samples. Because he is an idiot.
And I drank them. Because I am an idiot.
Not a lot . . . maybe two and a half glasses of beer over the course of four hours.
And it was nice to see my sister and her family.
We got home a little after 5:00 pm. And then I took a nap.
Duh.
And now I am awake. And I am not feeling that great and I am still hormonal and my head is filled with testiness that the day has slipped through my fingers just as I thought it would. Annoying.
I spend some time glaring at Mark.
He gets all nervous when I glare at him, “Did you post yet?”
“No, I did not post yet. My brain is all filled with annoyance. I can’t think of anything to say.”
“Hmmmmm . . . .You could post about how I have crushed your creative writing spirit by taking you to a beer festival.”
Snort!
It is hard to stay mad at Mark.
Sigh.
But I still don’t have anything to write about. I am not going to write a whole post about how bitchy I am when I get my period, because people? That’s just none of your fucking business.
So instead, I sit and stare angrily at the computer screen and eat a series of frozen Otter Pops in rapid succession. Mostly purple, because that’s the color the girls leave behind.
Turns out that if you are allergic to cold? You need to pace yourself where Otter Pops are concerned.
Hmmmph.
Mark comes down to see how I am doing, “Did you think of something to write about?”
“No, and my lack of inspiration? All . . . your . . . fault. Plus? My hands are all swollen and itchy.”
“What?”
“My hands are all swollen and itchy, a fact which may or may not have something to do with the fact that I just ate five frozen Otter Pops in a row.”
He laughs, “You’re an idiot.”
I rub my hands together to warm them and bring the swelling down.
I am all freakish.
Plus also? It is difficult to type with swollen fingers.
Mark reaches out for me, but I bat his hand away with one of my mitt-like Otter Pop paws, “What the fuck are you doing? Are you comforting me? Get away from me!”
“Fine, I was just trying to offer you the hand of solace. But if you don’t want it? That’s fine.”
“The hand of solace?”
“Yep.”
Snort!
It is hard to stay mad at Mark.
Although when I think of the things he promised to help me do today, I am annoyed. Pretty much? He did nothing I asked him to do. Not that this is a new and startling development in our marriage, but there are certain times when he just pisses me the hell off.
He is hiding with Maj and Kallan in the other room at the moment, watching some tweenie television show and giggling like a little girl.
And by the way? Watching crap television with the girls while I try to be all inspired and poignant in the next room? Not my fucking idea of supportive.
Marriage is a pain in the ass sometimes.
Hmmmph.
And now he is here, “Babe?”
“What? Are you kidding me? I just started typing and you need something? What?”
“You want another Otter Pop?”
“Oh. Yeah, alright. Do we have any orange?”
“Let me check.”
Hmmmph.
It is hard to stay mad at Mark.
Plus also?
I may be addicted to Otter Pops.
man I am addicted to your posts! Snort. :)
I am the Otter Pop of the blogging world!
Yay, me!
Oh man. Otter pops are the crack of summer! I was just wishing for popcicles to appear in my freezer!
Funny story, when my parents first got married my mom would hi-light in yellow the week when mother nature was expected so my Dad could know when to lay low/hide. We joke about it now but Dad gets this semi horrified/shell shocked look in his eye when you talk about yellow week.
Yellow week!
That is fucking awesome!
Yellow week . . . snort!
I think it was a great plan, gave him fair warning to come home with pretty flowers and be extra aware that everything was his fault. lol
I agree with AZLB. Your posts are addictive, even when you think you have nothing to say.
What?
This post was all fucking pithy!
Go back and re-read, young lady!
I am all deep today!
Snort!
I’m pretty sure I just clicked on the link for otter pops and was disappointed. I thought they would be in the shape of tails.
Nope, just delicious frozen fruit-flavored ice.
With Otter cartoons printed on them.
I didn’t know there was an Otter Popsters band, though.
That’s pretty awesome.
Well I write a whole blog about how bitchy I am during my period because if I have to be this fucking miserable, someone should benefit. This post you just wrote? Was so reminiscent of my mood/behaviour at present that it’s uncanny. I love it. I don’t know what Otter Paws are though? Instead I am eating refrigerated peanut butter cups.
Otter Pops are frozen fruit-flavored treats of addiction.
Otter-Pop Paws are what my hands look like after eating a few too many of them.
I should use oven mitts!
Yeah, because that would be all normal.
Sigh.
Please use the oven mitts. Fuck normal.
Yes, indeed.
Fuck normal.
Thank you.
I nominate Mark for the Nobel Peace Prize, the Congressional Medal of Honor, two Purple Hearts and an Oscar. Any man courageous enough, and loving enough, to consistently attempt to be nice, within striking distance, of a wife type person, who is in The Lady Zone, is indeed awesome, heroic and possibly superhuman. Even if he cheats in dreams and giggles like a little girl. Go Mark!
Sigh.
Whatever.
LOL men! They piss us off to the point of calling the lawyers and then come back all sweet and innocent and otter pop getting, and we go to much and forget all about the lawyer on the other line. My lawyer is so pissed right now.
Guess what?
I am a lawyer!
Snort!
Yes, I would agree. You are deeply profound..lol.
Happy sighs at being understood.
In all my depth.
There is depth in wallowing, you know.
Sometimes it’s hard to be brilliant and inspired. Certainly on a daily basis. I am in awe of your poignant writerly-ness in the face of beer fuzzies and otter pop paws. Seriously. ;)
Yes, I am all poignant and writerly today.
Sigh.
I think my favorite part of your posts sometimes are the tags at the end. I’m glad I checked facebook one last time before I went to bed or I would have missed you today.
Oh, and if I had gone to a brewer’s fest, I would have gotten shitty no matter what I had originally planned to do that day, so I think you did pretty darn good. I love beer.
Yes, I like beer.
Usually one. At night. Long after I am done doing responsible things for the day.
And I’m glad you checked the tags!
I am fond of my tags.
If I had 2 1/2 beers in four hours I’d be smashed
Really?
You are a huge lightweight!
I have never heard of otter pops. Is that an Oregon thing??
And seriously? “I bat his hand away with one of my mitt-like Otter Pop paws” Where do you come up with this stuff. I seriously snorted.
Nope, they are not unique to Oregon.
But they may not be available everywhere.
I have heard rumors of a competitor called Flav-R-Ice.
Do not be fooled, people. If there are no cute otter cartoons on your frozen treat? You are eating an inferior product.
We do have Flav-R-Ice here in Michigan. So sad that the otters don’t want to come and play with us.
Did you kñow that I can totally eat 50 otter pops in a row. Seriously, I have a problem.
We should start a support group.
Hello, my name is Kris, and I am an otter addict.
I have imaginary scales in my head.
This is the libra in me. Or the fact that I have a lifetime of people telling me what a libra should be like. Whatever.
The scales are really only big in my head when I’m feeling cranky. Other times they just sit there quietly. Lurking.
But when I’m easily agitated, the scales are very large. And then everything Himself does gets put on one side or the other.
Leaving three friggin’ amps the size of cattle in the living room? Deep dip on one side.
Bringing me coffee or making me breakfast…leveled out.
Talking on and on about god only knows what….deeeeeeeeep dip.
Asking if I want to read my book while he deals with the litter box…leveled out again.
Asking me where we keep something that has lived in exactly the same place since we bought the damned house…..
Well, there is no leveling off from that one. His head gets bitten off.
But later I feel really bad about it. So that’s sort of a leveling off.
In my world.
I imagine you placing his bitten-off head on the scales across from his various misbehaviors.
There.
Leveled out.
How is it that I just found your blog a couple weeks ago and we’re already on the same cycle. HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN?!
Now I’m super creepy. I might have to stop commenting. Quick block me so I don’t do it again!
Wait just block me from commenting not from reading though, because you are hilarious, and make me giggle all alone in my room, while ignoring my boychild.
Too funny! Although, these last few years? My period has been on a weird schedule. So we’ll just meet this one time, most likely.
Peri-menopause, they tell me.
Try to say that without feeling old.
Sigh.