The post title requires a little explanation, but you won't get any of that until later. Because I believe in narrative suspense and shit.
It's the little things that drive people to horrific acts of murder.
For instance, waking up and finding a bowl full of partially eaten home-made curry in the sink.
It was sitting there in my kitchen sink, all the sweet potatoes and spinach pushed to the side on a lovely bed of brown rice like a mute accusation: you tried to make me eat vegetables.
Clearly, I am going to have to have the, "Dude, vegetables won't make you grow a vagina" conversation. Again.
I am also going to have to be very drunk. Mostly because tequila makes me hit like a girl, and I don't want to end up accidentally busting his pretty face for leaving the curry that I made FROM SCRATCH in my whoring KITCHEN SINK. Seriously, there is a trash bin literally ten feet away. If you're going to spurn my cooking, at least have the decency to hide it under a McDonald's bag like the rest of the civilized world.
And this is why I believe I am married to a passive aggressive cat--because leaving a half eaten curry where you can find it is totally a cat move. It screams, "Fuck you, I hate this. Now clean it up." It also illustrates why I am now opposed to marriage. Because unless you look something like this....
I don't want to deal with that shit. You are just not cute enough. Also, I need to take new pictures of my cat. He's like twice as big as when this was taken. If I write again soon, you'll know I didn't kill my husband. Best get ready for work.
It's the little things that drive people to horrific acts of murder.
For instance, waking up and finding a bowl full of partially eaten home-made curry in the sink.
It was sitting there in my kitchen sink, all the sweet potatoes and spinach pushed to the side on a lovely bed of brown rice like a mute accusation: you tried to make me eat vegetables.
Clearly, I am going to have to have the, "Dude, vegetables won't make you grow a vagina" conversation. Again.
I am also going to have to be very drunk. Mostly because tequila makes me hit like a girl, and I don't want to end up accidentally busting his pretty face for leaving the curry that I made FROM SCRATCH in my whoring KITCHEN SINK. Seriously, there is a trash bin literally ten feet away. If you're going to spurn my cooking, at least have the decency to hide it under a McDonald's bag like the rest of the civilized world.
And this is why I believe I am married to a passive aggressive cat--because leaving a half eaten curry where you can find it is totally a cat move. It screams, "Fuck you, I hate this. Now clean it up." It also illustrates why I am now opposed to marriage. Because unless you look something like this....
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So you want to put your two cents in? Bully for you.