Monday, May 28, 2007

Someone's grumpy.

Things Boys Cannot Do:

Put their breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. Sometimes they'll make it in the sink, but it's quite the strain to take that extra 30-seconds to rinse them before putting them in the dishwasher.

Change out rolls of toilet paper. Or dispense of empty cardboard holders.

Pick up the 5200 subscription cards from magazines that drop out all over the bathroom, er excuse me, "library" floor.

Make it all the way in the hamper with their clothes. One inch away? You bet!

Acknowledge the beep of the timer on the oven, even though you're not the one who set it. More with the beeeeeeeeeeeeps.

Accept your answer to the question "Where would you like to eat?". When you respond it's always, "REALLY? THERE?" THEN DON'T FUCKING ASK ME!

Hand over the remote and ask, "What would YOU like to watch?"

See dirt. Apparently it's invisible.

Call you when they say they're going to.

Things Boys Can Do:

Ask what's for dinner at 7:30 a.m. as you pour your first cup of coffee of the day.

Fill your home with the constant sound of video violence in the form of games and movies. "Good morning!" - GUNSHOTS! SCREAMING! BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEP GUNSHOTS GUNSHOT GUNSHOTS! BLOOD GORE BLOOD!

Collect enough fucking lightbulbs, cables, socks, batteries (I won't lie, I don't really complain about that one - AH HA!), that you could start your own weird ass store.

Exclaim, "Wow, you sure bought a lot there," as you struggle to drag four bags of groceries to the kitchen, without getting up.

Give you a pinched up, irritated face and mimed "Keep it down" while you're on the phone, even though the room is full of GUNSHOTS! SCREAMING! BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEP GUNSHOTS GUNSHOT GUNSHOTS! BLOOD GORE BLOOD!

Act extremely put-out if they finally have to get up and do the task you've asked politely (that they freaking originally offered to do!) to be done for the last two weeks. "OOOOOOKAYYYYYYY, SHIT!!!!!" Maybe if I didn't have to ask 14 times, you wouldn't have to have a little tantrum.

I need a damn holiday from my holiday.