There are times in everyones marriage where they want to trade in for a new model. I don't mean they cheated or you hate them or something, I mean if you think hard enough, there are times where you just wanted to kill them and trade in for a new model.
Example given!
The day we were going to deliver Brandon I hadn't eaten in 24 hours. This wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't delivering Brandon at 4 in the fucking afternoon. Oh yeah top that off with nothing to drink I was a real fucking sweet heart to be around! Back to the point. We get in the car to drive to the hospital and Rob mentions he was hungry. He tells me he is going to grab something to eat at the hospital while they are prepping me. I growl at him. Do you know what the little shit stops and gets??????
MCDONALDS!!!! With a goshdang LARGE ULTRA JUMBO SUPER MEGA FRENCH FRY!
At this moment, I didn't just want to trade in, I wanted to throw his ass out of the moving car on the freeway. The whole 15 minute ride to the hospital all I could smell was the scent of golden delicious french fries. We get to the hospital and he really tried to eat that in my room. I all but went exorcist on his ass and told him he better go out into the fucking waiting room or I would divorce him before that baby was born. He slinked out into waiting room with his jumbo soda right when they brought me a shot of some acid reflux stuff that tasted like whiskey mixed with nyquil and at that point I started throwing a huge fit because that man couldn't get his McDonalds out of my room fast enough.
So do any of you have times when you have wanted to trade in for a new model?
6.23.2007
Trading in for a new model
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2 comments:
That really sounds like something my husnand would do, i can be on a diet and he will come home woth fish and chips - just for him might i add. When i say what about me, i get thought you were on a diet!!
When I was in the hospital after I had delivered Porgie, I was having a lot of trouble breastfeeding. I was very emotionally distraught - crying all the freaking time (I had a bad case of baby blues). One night at about 7 pm, John went home to feed the animals. He was suppose to come right back.
After he left, I was trying to get Porgie to latch, but failed. We both ended up crying hysterically. The nurses took her to the nursery, while I laid in bed crying - for hours.
I keep waiting for John return, but he never did. I called the house over and over again, but he never answered. I thought he had died, so I cried some more. Seriously, I stayed up crying for hours and hours.
At 5 am he casually walks in and reports that he simply fell asleep on the couch. I wanted to kill him. He had made my night a living hell. And why did he get a full night's sleep, yet I was still exhausted. Bastard.
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