Financial irresponsibility

My parents paid for well over half of the price of our home so that the idiot husband only has to make monthly payments.  They also give me (us) a monthly allowance so that I can pay for the utilities, groceries, clothing for the boys, etc.  The idiot husband does not contribute a single penny to the family other than paying down the nominal mortgage and our health insurance premium through his job–and it definitely stops there.  He doesn’t even shell out a single for the office co-pays.

And now, he’s fucking buying himself a goddamn $10,000 motorcycle.  “For fun,” he says.  Fucking $10,000 just for kicks, in this economy–this officially named recession.  I scrimp and save and agonize over spending the tiniest amounts and he has the audacity to burn $10,000 on some ridiculous toy for himself.  Is this why my parents still support us?  So he can take our disposable income to make a mid-midlife crisis purchase?

It’s not like I have any recourse.  He’s going to do this regardless of how I feel.  It’s not as if he asked me.  He TOLD me that he’d made the decision.  Okay, I’m even angrier now than when before I started this post.  The only way for this to be fair is for him to crash and burn with his new $10,000 toy.  Good fucking riddance!

Playing to the wrong audience

Does my idiot husband not realize that when he treats me like shit in front of my friends and family, that HE is the one who looks like an ass and not me?

Entitled bicyclists

Let me get this right.  You want to ride in the middle of the road and hang out in the left lane to cross the street diagonally but you don’t want to have to follow any pesky rules of the road like actually stopping at stop signs or anything like that.  Oh yeah, that’s a good plan: All of the rights and privileges and none of the responsibilities.  No wonder I dream of running you all off the road whenever I see you.

Poor people

I definitely concede the point that there are those catastrophic events or circumstances which can create sudden and prolonged poverty; however, the VAST MAJORITY of individuals whom I’ve met who suffer financially do so as a direct result of their own behaviors.  And it pisses me off to no end.  I don’t mean the suffering part–but the entitlement part that burns my toast.  Though they are rampant consumers, choosing to buy up unnecessary luxuries that I would even deny myself, they have the audacity to feel entitled to handouts from folks like myself.  And do you know why I have disposable income?  Because I don’t spend it on ridiculous electronic toys and extravagant collections of purses and the like.  I am privileged because of my personal choices and shouldn’t be punished to reward those who cannot steer their own acts of volition.

Choking hazard

I find that on most occasions, requesting assistance from the husband is far more trouble than it’s worth.  I was unable to disassemble our tattered shade tent and was forced to ask him to do it.  Well, he did it all right, but he left hundreds of tiny bolts, screws, and washers randomly strewn all over the backyard.  Even after my third pass, I was still finding these lovely choking hazards on the lawn.  Okay, so he doesn’t get drunk on moonshine and beat us, but c’mon, that’s pretty freaking negligent, right?  Does he do it out of spite because I forced him to do something other than sit on his fat ass and watch porn?  Is he indeed that feeble of mind as not to see the inherent dangers?  Either way, I lose…because I married him.  I lose.

Television sucks

Even though we don’t have a television in the house, we still have Internet which means I have access to sites like hulu.com and yidio.com as well as network sites.  Since my discovery of the former two sites about a month ago, I’ve been watching like mad!  I don’t even know why…just about everything I watch is unimaginably horrible.  Painfully, excruciatingly horrible.  But I keep watching!  Television is an evil drug.  My time could be–and will be after this post–spent on far more useful tasks like sleeping, for example.  I imagine that bad television is more a product of pandering to an unintelligent audience rather than the expression of unintelligent writers, but does it really matter?  Either way, it’s bad television!  Before my vegetative state comes to a screeching halt, I need to see in black and white why I’m giving it up.

Shows I won’t miss:

Brothers and Sisters.  The liberal swill on this sappy soap is astounding, especially in light of how its conservative characters are developed.  Its storylines are convoluted and pointless.  Why I’ve tortured myself with every episode since its inception is simply unanswerable!

Monk.  The mysteries are not so mysterious.  And why in the world does everyone recognize him as a famous detective?  How many detectives can you name in your city?  It’s weird.  Just weird!

The Simpsons and Family Guy.  It’s not that I don’t like animated series (take Futurama as case in point); I just don’t like THESE series.

Lipstick Jungle.  This is one of those shows that I watched because it was available.  Why in the world does Hollywood make adultery seem romantic and blissful?  It’s insulting to people everywhere.

House.  Why is he always right?  That’s as boring as it is ridiculous.  How do I warm up to an abrasive misanthrope?  The answer is that I don’t.

Desperate Housewives.  I started watching this because some coworkers urged me on.  I’m not at that job anymore so it’s about time I let go of this show as well.

Ugly Betty. What kills me is the way I dread viewing the episodes but click on them anyhow.  It’s like a DS9 flashback.  **Shudder** That was an awful show!

Private Practice. I have no defense for this show’s plot, or lack thereof.  But I do find the characters likable for some reason.

Shows I will miss:

Grey’s Anatomy. I hate admitting that I watch this series.  But I think my reluctance about giving it up has to do with how much time I’ve already invested.  It’s sort of like having a hard time breaking up when you’ve dated a loser for so long.  Then, you’d have to face the cold, hard fact that you wasted your time.  You have to face the unfamiliar instead of resting uncomfortably in your well-worn misery.  But give it up I shall because it’s terrible.  Dark and twisty?  No, more like prissy and whiny.

Bones. This show is an affront to Ph.D. holders everywhere.  Its characters are supposedly geniuses but this seems an accurate depiction only if you believe the Professor on Gilligan’s Island was a genius.  The title character herself is a complete moron.  Let’s face it, without access to television, I’m pretty clueless when it comes to many mainstream allusions; yet, I am perfectly aware when they’re being made.  There are specific contextual clues and I may not know specifics, I am savvy enough to recognize specific names.  But on this show, the main character, through the wooden reading by the actor, shows no such recognition.  It’s so annoying!  But without access to Law & Order: SVU, I really enjoy the crime show aspect and may have a hard time giving this up.

Shows I refuse to stop watching:

Lost.  Nuff said.

Pushing Daisies.  Well?  It’s imaginative and cute, but with an edge.

Fringe.  I have to suspend a lot of disbelief but two episodes in, I’m having a good time.  I’m hoping it doesn’t meander down the X-Files alien route.  When it starts to take its own mythology too seriously, I may back out, though.

Samantha Who?  It’s only a 30-minute show.  And it’s my guilty pleasure.  Why can’t likable characters be the new gimmick?  That would make the television landscape far more attractive as far as I’m concerned.

Responsibilities

There are only two responsibilities which the husband holds in this house: Watching the boys during my morning shower and taking out the trash.

During my 5-minute showers (actually, I shower in about 2 minutes and dry off and get dress in the remaining 3 minutes!), he is supposed to watch the boys.  But often, Younger Monkey crawls all the way up the stairs by himself.  By the time I rush out of the shower, he’s crying so hard from having dragged himself upstairs all alone.  Yesterday, when I carried him downstairs after I was done, I saw the husband staring off into space as Older Monkey was tearing up the living room.  I don’t know why I’m bothering to blog about this.  His complete negligence should come as no surprise to me.  And yet, hope springs eternal.  I’m in a constant state of renewed hoped that the extra 4 hours he sleeps above me every night offers him the strength to engage in direct eye contact with our children for the full 5-minute shower.

The husband’s fulfillment of his other responsibility is equally laughable.  His idea of taking out the trash is emptying the bin from his downstairs office and wheeling the large cans down the driveway.  I am never allowed to speak a word of this task to him.  I cannot request that he take out the kitchen trash, at least not without his sneering and my reciprocating with some grand favor.  I cannot remind him to take out the trash in any of the other 5 cans around the house.  Though honestly, how he can remember to fill these particular receptacles with refuse yet manage to utterly forget their existence when it comes time to emptying them is beyond my comprehension.

Because I’m illiterate?

What in the world could possess a person to hold a 3-hour meeting wherein they READ the entire contents of a typewritten packet to the audience?  Am I the only fool who thinks that everyone, including the speaker, would have been better off avoiding such a punitive exercise in futility?

The selfish fat guy to whom I’m married

The husband doesn’t usually eat breakfast, but to be courteous, I offered him some of what we were having.  By the time I returned to the kitchen, the entire serving plate was empty and I was startled that the Monkeys were so willing to eat, given their usual fussiness.  Therein lay my faulty assumption, because there’s no way my lard-assed husband would take the effort to feed the Monkeys.  The asshole had actually wolfed it ALL down himself, claiming that he didn’t realize it was also for the children.  Are you fucking kidding me?  Really?  I will ask it again because I’m utterly dumbfounded: Are you fucking kidding me?!?  In his defense, he’s flirting with the 300 pound mark and doesn’t have a clue as to what a single serving looks like.  But seriously, are you fucking kidding me???  Okay, I’m being redundant here.  And really, it’s a testament to my own cognitive impairment that I don’t expect this kind of insensitivity on his part given his long and incredibly consistent history of apathy.

He simply doesn’t see the kids, figuratively and literally.  Because he has to drive through horrible traffic to get to work some distance away, he only sees the Monkeys in the morning before he leaves as they’re fast asleep by the time he comes home.  But does he go to bed early so that he can spend more time with them?  No, he hunkers down in his office, surfs for porn and idiotic youtube videos, and meanders off to bed so late that he gets up at 7:40, sees the kids for 20 minutes, showers and toddles on off to work.  Yes, 20 minutes!  Never mind that the three of us have been awake since 5:30–yes, the Monkeys like to get up at the crack of dawn.  During the brief time that I worked after Older Monkey was born, I did everything I could with him and saved my personal stuff (no, not porn surfing; I mean laundry and dishes and other fabulous household chores) until Older Monkey was asleep.  There was no sense of obligation, no sacrifice…only the desire to spend as much time with my child as possible.  Yet the husband completely lacks this drive.  I simply don’t understand it.

And during the brief time that he spends with them, he stares off into space.  Really–he rarely makes eye contact with them and doesn’t even notice it when they call out to him.  What is that teaching the Monkeys in terms of self-worth?  Even if I forgive the psychological damage, there is still the issue of physical safety.  Younger Monkey is barely walking and on those rare instances when I have to leave for a few minutes to take something off the stove, for example, I’m terrified that he will take another spill because the husband was too busy daydreaming.  And Older Monkey is no safer.  A little over a year ago, Older Monkey was laughing and spraying his water bottle in the garage.  A little spritz hit the husband and he smacked the bottle away–or so he thought.  Because he wasn’t making eye contact, he missed the bottle and actually hit Older Monkey, who fell so hard he hit the concrete step and BROKE HIS NOSE!!!  He was bloody and swollen for what seemed an eternity.  There was nothing the doctor could do and for weeks, I would stare at my broken baby while he slept and I cried hot tears of rage and misery.  Do I think the husband did it intentionally?  No.  But do I think it’s his fault for not looking at Older Monkey and slamming him to the ground?  Fuck yes.  I will never forgive him for this.  Older Monkey was barely 2 years old at the time.  And the worst part of it is that I feel like I’m never allowed to bring it up again because it was an accident.  But it comes up for me all the time.  I can’t imagine too many people notice the asymmetry in Older Monkey’s profile, but I do and every time I see it, I want to scream!!!

Well, I suppose with the way he fails to take care of the Monkeys, I should be pleased that his time with them is so limited.

Wow, a positive conclusion to tidy up all that anger!  Blogging really does work!

Nurse from Hell

Younger Monkey had a well visit and while I like his pediatrician, many of her nurses are completely incompetent. The one he got today was a particular winner.  It took her 30 minutes to give him his TB skin test and MMR vax.  She was flipping out and restraining him every which way, which was driving him completely batty and pushing me on the verge of physical violence. She stabbed him w/ the PPD point and somehow managed to squirt both me and her!  Then she started all over with the crazy restraining until she realized she’d left the needle across the room on the tray.  As you can imagine, Younger Monkey was totally screaming at this point.

Then with the MMR, she tried and tried and couldn’t stick him so she actually had to call another nurse into the room.  Idiot nurse was so busy swabbing his entire leg with alcohol, she forgot the freaking needle again.  Then after she stuck him, Younger Monkey was still screaming and still restrained by the second nurse who asked if idiot nurse wanted to put a bandage on.  Idiot nurse startles and says, “Oh yeah!  I totally forgot, I was just so happy to give him the shot!”

So that’s the story.  But the real heart of the matter is that this woman was CLEARLY a moron and that this went on for an excrutiating long period of time.  What does that say about me?  Why didn’t I just jump up and grab my poor helpless Monkey and run run run the hell out of there?  I have all this pent up anger and I never seem to be able to emit it to the right person, under the right circumstances, in the right amount of time.  I really really have to listen to my gut and speak up.  What kind of mother doesn’t lash out when her child is in clear and present danger?