I have mentioned our smaller stupid dog.
Jack the terrier has many issues. Among them? A deep-seated hatred of all oven mitts.
I am not even kidding. I don’t know what went on in his early puppyhood, but he?
Is all kinds of fucked up.
The most hated oven mitts? A large rubber glove-like pair.
He goes insane. Leaping and growling and flipping and frothing and snarling and chomping at the air.
And so of course, we torture him a lot. For our own entertainment.
The other day? Each of the girls is wearing a rubber oven mitt held high above her head, both of them chasing the frenzied smaller stupid dog around the house.
Chasing him and threatening him with the “rubber fists of doom.”
“Jackie! Come here, Jackie! You know you want the rubber fists of doom! You know you do!”
Sometimes? I just think funny things, and that? Made me laugh hysterically.
Rubber fists of doom.
Snort!
A long time ago? Many many years ago? I had a friend.
Like many of my friendships with women, this one ended badly. There is something to female friendships that I don’t quite grasp. An expectation there that I don’t recognize, and then fail to meet.
Sigh.
But before I fucked up this particular friendship? There was a phone call. That I will now re-enact for you to the best of my recollection.
First there is talk of current events and politics and our plans for the weekend. I sip my morning coffee as I flip absent-mindedly through the newspaper.
“OK, so last night? It was our anniversary, and we went out to dinner.”
I am not really listening, “Yeah? Where’d you go?”
“That French place I was telling you about. Shut up and listen.”
“Don’t get all annoying. I was just holding up my end of the conversation.”
“OK, well shut the fuck up for once. I don’t want to talk about the restaurant.”
“You brought it up.”
“Would you shut the fuck up and listen?”
“Fine. This is me. All quiet.”
“OK, so we went out to dinner and it was lovely. Came home and had a few drinks. Played some music. Danced.”
“Seriously? I had to shut up for this way lame story of married romance?”
“I am not going to tell you again. Shut the fuck up.”
“Fine. I am shut the fucked up.”
“So we’re dancing and then we’re naked and then we’re having sex.”
My ears are immediately perky, newspaper forgotten, “Really? Do tell.”
“Seriously, Kris. Be quiet for a minute. OK, so then? During sex? My husband asked me to do something weird.”
“Please tell me you are going to share the weirdness with me.”
“Do you know how annoying it is that you are unable to stop talking?”
“Sorry.”
“OK, so I need you to tell me how weird this is. And you have to promise not to laugh.”
“Do you not know me at all? I’m not going to laugh. I can be serious and helpful.”
“Yeah, right. OK, so last night? During sex?”
“Yes?”
“Oh, shit. Never mind. I am not going to tell you. You’re going to think I’m a freak.”
“I am not going to think you are a freak. You can’t just leave me hanging this way. Talk, woman!”
“Nope. Never mind.”
“I am going to fucking kill you. I am going to get in my car, I am going to drive to your house, and I am going to kill you. Talk.”
Sweet-talk like that? That is the mark of best-friendness, right there.
There is silence on her end of the phone.
So I help her out, “OK, you guys are dancing, you are drinking, you are naked, you are in bed. You’re having sex, and then he asks you to . . . do what? Spit it out.”
“He asked me to insert a finger.”
Oooooh . . . so happy to have answered the phone this morning, “Are we talking about what I think we are talking about?”
“Yes, and so now? I am pretty sure he’s gay.”
A pause here while I giggle hysterically and snort into the phone and she gets pissed off at me.
“You fucking promised not to laugh. You are such a bitch.”
I gasp for breath, “OK, wait. Hold on. I am completely under control now. He’s not gay.”
“You weren’t here to see the happiness. There was way too much happiness.”
“He’s not gay. He’s just happy.”
“You don’t fucking know that. Now I’m going to be one of those idiot women in denial. I’ll be at the drugstore, all, ‘No, my husband’s not gay . . . now, if you could just ring up this extra-large tube of KY jelly and this box of rubber gloves? I will be on my way.’”
Oh my god, she made me laugh. I miss her.
She continues, “And I’m worried this is just the beginning. First it’s a finger, and then it’s some small object, and then a larger object, and before you know it? We go out to dinner on our 15th anniversary and the sex that night? Will look exactly like me fisting my gay-ass husband.”
And then we both laughed so fucking hard.
Happy sighs at that memory.
I am all annoyed now, typing this, that I ever let this woman escape from my life.
Although she is always with me, because every time I take something out of the oven with those rubber fists of doom?
I think of her and I wonder how things have progressed.
Snort!
In other news?
Mark was reading through some other people’s blogs the other night. Not naming names . . . some mommy bloggers. He never reads anybody else’s stuff. Ever.
After about a half hour of clicking and reading and clicking and reading?
He turned to me and he said, “Are you aware that you are quite a bit bolder and sluttier than these other bloggers?”
He makes me laugh.
And Mark?
He better hang on to his hat.
And his gloves.
Snort!
You had me at rubber fists of doom
I have missed you!
Welcome back!
And rubber fists of doom?
Makes me giggle a lot.
I agree with Kristi. You are the funniest fucking blogger ever. Just as long as I don’t give the wife my rubber fists of doom, I’ll be back. AHnold style.
I am not always funny.
But I have moments.
Love you.
Don’t make me come back here and yell at you. You are funnier than most and funny most of the time. Love you more.
Thanks, you.
Although I am always up for discipline.
So bring on the yelling.
Ian! Quit giving up my identity! Just kidding.
Kristi = Kmama
I knew he was talking about you.
But thanks for outing yourself!
Hi, Kristi!
you’re funny.
alot.
Snort!
Thank you!
Oh, can you please video tape Mark’s reaction to this post? I know it’s going to be priceless. Oh so freaking priceless. Please???
Hee hee!
There have been discussions here.
But fuck it.
You’re right. When he reads this?
His eyebrows are going to go way way up.
Snort!
What I picture in my head is a lot of sighing and eyebrow raising on his part, and a whole helluva lot of giggling on your part!
Yes, I think you have it pictured perfectly.
I will keep you posted.
Hee hee!
you slutty blogger you. that’s half of why I love you. the other half is for the snorts. because I’m slutty too. and I snort. for realsies. my friends take bets when the first snort of the night will be.
but rubber fists of doom? that takes the cake. you have to retell this story to your girls when they’re older but not too old to be sufficiently mortified. isn’t that what parenthood is all about?
So happy to have made you giggle.
So happy.
And yes . . . one of the joys of parenthood?
Is the mortifying of the children.
Happy sighs of anticipation.
I’m laughing hysterically. And that phone conversation, not the topic, but the tone, sounds just like my best friend and I.
I’m still giggling.
Rubber gloves of doom indeed.
Sigh.
I do miss her.
She was all kinds of awesome.
Rubber fists of doom.
So funny.
hehehehe
I, would love hearing that from a friend. Simply because there are too many jokes for when I would see them again. OH and rubber gloves are like $2 at home depot. Ya, hubby has a box of 200 for random house shit….hehehe.
He’s not going to be happy with what I’ll be suggesting for tonights adventure.
Yes.
There was future teasing of the merciless mocking sort.
And she knew things about me that caused her to shriek with laughter.
I do miss her.
You rock! Been reading for a while but never commented. I have had the same experience with a couple girlfriends. Boy do I miss my best one in particular. Sometimes I think of the little sayings she had for different moments and just miss her in my life. Thanks for posting everyday. I am always excited to read!
I am always better at friendships with men.
I don’t know what that’s about, but it’s just always been the case.
I have female friends. Very close female friends. But I am always wary.
I do tend to fuck those relationships up.
Sigh.
The apple does not fall far from the tree, my friend.
At this point, it is impossible for me to tell whether you are influencing the girls’ manner of speaking or the other way around.
So hilarious, rubber fists of doom. That dog totally had that coming.
We all influence one another.
The girls sound like me and I like them, at times.
Mark always sounds like himself, however.
He is less susceptible.
Snort!
you managed to get “fine. this is me. all quiet.” out & she took you seriously?
She knew better.
Snort!
Love the fist of doom… and so does my husband… HAHA:)
Yay!
So funny.
Plus also?
Yay!
Oh. my. Holy roaring laughter and much snorting of coffee to this post.
Thank you, you slutty bold blogging whore. The best bloggers are. Wouldn’t have you any other way.
Awwww . . . thanks, you.
I can only write if I get to be me.
Mark (and the others) will understand.
I think.
Hee hee!
That slutty boldness? It’s so much of what we love!
So there.
Change nothing.
I read blogs because I like to get a look at a person’s naked soul. I’m all voyeuristic like that. Cover that shit up and why bother?
Love you.
Thank you.
I do enjoy the naked blogging.
What?
Naked? When? Jello?
I’m in.
Why did that lovely man not accept my invitation to jump naked into lime jello?
Sigh.
But me?
And you?
Naked, baby!
In the jello!
YAY!
If there is to be naked jello jumping, I’m in.
Sounds slippery.
I prefer orange. Or was that not the point?
We had agreed on lime.
But orange is also acceptable.
Blue Raspberry is also lovely.
As long as we are agreed on the naked?
The flavor is negotiable.
There she is!
look at that! look at that!
the fastest thing on two feet!
You guys?
Make me smile.
Also smiley?
I am off to buy school supplies with the girls this afternoon.
School starts next week!
YAY!
What? School starts next week? Natalie has been in school since August 8. Wow crazy
Hush, you.
It has been a long summer.
One more week.
One more week.
SO close!
Hang on. You’re almost there.
Maj, in particular?
Is chafing at this last bit of unscheduled time.
She wants school and structure.
And I want?
Time to myself.
SO CLOSE!! The only thing about mine going to school so much earlier than yours is that mine will be home earlier at the end of the year. I think she gets out at the end of May.
Yes, Maj and Kallan didn’t get out until June 17th, I believe.
Still.
A long summer.
Your bold sluttiness is what keeps us coming back for more. Rubber fists of doom. HA!
Hee hee!
Thanks, you.
Bold sluttiness . . .
Love that.
See, I am the best type of woman you want to be friends with. My friends? Have been my friends since we were 12, and we will likely still be friends when we are 52.
And in my dreams…Mark is reading my blog. You don’t have to admit it, don’t even mention it, I would like to keep dreaming it.
I did not have close friends as a child.
Not the sort that lasted.
And having missed that part of growing up?
I seem to have missed some important information.
I will tell Mark he is in your dreams.
He will enjoy that.
Snort!
What’s wrong with bold and slutty? You talk about parenting too, so you’re well rounded.
And now?
I imagine myself a bold and slutty weeble.
All well-rounded and shit.
Snort!