A Good 'Ol Fashioned Freak-Out

"Being in a relationship means having to make certain sacrifices. Keep slaying those goats to prevent your husband from leaving you."

Do you ever have one of those days where Patsy Cline's "Crazy" takes on a whole new meaning? Ahhh... but do you have that variety of day with such frequency that your loved ones have come to view it with the same feigned shock as displayed towards the sun rising and setting each day? *beaming* My reputation precedes me once again!

I previously mentioned that my l'il redhead and I will be traveling "home" this coming weekend. The mission? To fly one way to retrieve my fabulous mom who will be driving down from the NW to meet at that rendezvous point. From there we can help her drive back this way for The King's upcoming graduation. As is par for the course anytime any family member visits, I go into that dark, chaotic place full of shame and embarrassment at not keeping the caliber of house that could pass the white glove test. Ridiculous enough as my family claims they understand what with the age of the midgets, plus they are just visiting to see US not our zoo habitat.



I call shenanigans. Oh sure, they'll smile while gritting their teeth and silently judging - trying to nonchalantly pull out the vacuum when I turn the other way. VACUUMS ARE LOUD, GODDAMNIT!!! I'M NOT A COMPLETE MORON!!!!! "Oh Honey, You can be so silly - I'm just going to get these few spots that you may have missed while trying to be the Domestic Goddess we all know you're not". My mom, in particular, is the Queen Supreme of Covert Hostility. It's clearly genetic, as my grandma possessed the gift of insulting with the sweetest of smiles as well.


Yesterday, I was outside, taking in the fresh air (and possibly a menthol or two) and mentally running down the list of all I still had to clean/organize/disinfect/hide/toss/bury and realizing the sands in the hourglass were quickly running out. This was immediately followed by thoughts of how quickly the likes of my 'Ol Man and The Good Doctor, who are both remaining behind for this journey, are likely to undo any progress over the weekend while we're gone.

I'll be honest, yes, I had an instantaneous meltdown - but no, it wasn't the first of the day. As I was just about to weep, my 'Ol Man called from work to check up on his Lovely Lunatic - he could instantly hear the distress in my voice and asked what was going on. As the emotional vomiting commenced, he couldn't help but chuckle.... The chuckle grew steadily into an outright guffaw..... I do believe he even put me on speakerphone at one point so his friends could bask in the glory that is Little Orphan Clinically Nuts! "Are you laughing at me?" "What? No, Darling! There's no need to stress out, you're just having your mental few weeks of the month".



And there it was.

I had surpassed your common, everyday, run-of-the-mill Raving Bitch and achieved a level few of us banshees could so much as fathom! SUCK IT, BITCHES!!!! I AM THE MUTHAFUKIN' MASTER!!!!!!!!!!! HA! I can only imagine that most husbands would quite possibly find themselves in the doghouse for making such a bold statement - but this broad finds the brutal honesty delectably refreshing. It seems I have met my match. The one person on this planet who can not only handle my complete and utter instability, but embrace it and even present it to his friends as the resulting "Trophy Wife". I am the white tiger to his less-than-flamboyant Siegfried!!!!! (After all, as it turned out, Roy was no match for Kitty Kitty).



At the end of the day, I really have no reason to complain. Don't kid yourself, that's not about to stop me. But I do see the silver lining in the Charlie Brownesque dark cloud I like to imagine following me around, and that will forever bring a smile to my devious lips!

Until The Next Meltdown,
-Miss Annie V.

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Kitty

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

A Good 'Ol Fashioned Freak-Out

"Being in a relationship means having to make certain sacrifices. Keep slaying those goats to prevent your husband from leaving you."

Do you ever have one of those days where Patsy Cline's "Crazy" takes on a whole new meaning? Ahhh... but do you have that variety of day with such frequency that your loved ones have come to view it with the same feigned shock as displayed towards the sun rising and setting each day? *beaming* My reputation precedes me once again!

I previously mentioned that my l'il redhead and I will be traveling "home" this coming weekend. The mission? To fly one way to retrieve my fabulous mom who will be driving down from the NW to meet at that rendezvous point. From there we can help her drive back this way for The King's upcoming graduation. As is par for the course anytime any family member visits, I go into that dark, chaotic place full of shame and embarrassment at not keeping the caliber of house that could pass the white glove test. Ridiculous enough as my family claims they understand what with the age of the midgets, plus they are just visiting to see US not our zoo habitat.



I call shenanigans. Oh sure, they'll smile while gritting their teeth and silently judging - trying to nonchalantly pull out the vacuum when I turn the other way. VACUUMS ARE LOUD, GODDAMNIT!!! I'M NOT A COMPLETE MORON!!!!! "Oh Honey, You can be so silly - I'm just going to get these few spots that you may have missed while trying to be the Domestic Goddess we all know you're not". My mom, in particular, is the Queen Supreme of Covert Hostility. It's clearly genetic, as my grandma possessed the gift of insulting with the sweetest of smiles as well.


Yesterday, I was outside, taking in the fresh air (and possibly a menthol or two) and mentally running down the list of all I still had to clean/organize/disinfect/hide/toss/bury and realizing the sands in the hourglass were quickly running out. This was immediately followed by thoughts of how quickly the likes of my 'Ol Man and The Good Doctor, who are both remaining behind for this journey, are likely to undo any progress over the weekend while we're gone.

I'll be honest, yes, I had an instantaneous meltdown - but no, it wasn't the first of the day. As I was just about to weep, my 'Ol Man called from work to check up on his Lovely Lunatic - he could instantly hear the distress in my voice and asked what was going on. As the emotional vomiting commenced, he couldn't help but chuckle.... The chuckle grew steadily into an outright guffaw..... I do believe he even put me on speakerphone at one point so his friends could bask in the glory that is Little Orphan Clinically Nuts! "Are you laughing at me?" "What? No, Darling! There's no need to stress out, you're just having your mental few weeks of the month".



And there it was.

I had surpassed your common, everyday, run-of-the-mill Raving Bitch and achieved a level few of us banshees could so much as fathom! SUCK IT, BITCHES!!!! I AM THE MUTHAFUKIN' MASTER!!!!!!!!!!! HA! I can only imagine that most husbands would quite possibly find themselves in the doghouse for making such a bold statement - but this broad finds the brutal honesty delectably refreshing. It seems I have met my match. The one person on this planet who can not only handle my complete and utter instability, but embrace it and even present it to his friends as the resulting "Trophy Wife". I am the white tiger to his less-than-flamboyant Siegfried!!!!! (After all, as it turned out, Roy was no match for Kitty Kitty).



At the end of the day, I really have no reason to complain. Don't kid yourself, that's not about to stop me. But I do see the silver lining in the Charlie Brownesque dark cloud I like to imagine following me around, and that will forever bring a smile to my devious lips!

Until The Next Meltdown,
-Miss Annie V.

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