Monday, November 30, 2009
You Flopped The 4th, 5th Time's A Charm?
Now that doesn't mean buy me a fucking tree. That doesn't mean give me a fucking fire log. It means the gift is wood. As long as there's wood, wood grain or fucking CORK somewhere in the gift then it falls in line with the gift suggestion. But FUCK ME. Don’t let the suggestion stop you from getting a REAL FUCKING ANNIVERSARY GIFT!
Fucking butthole. The 4th anniversary traditional gift was flowers or fruit. So he tells me he's buying me flowers. I said I didn't want flowers but something nice with flowers or with flowers as part of the decoration would be fine. Hell, even an anniversary card with flowers would have been nice, but I’m not really interested in a bouquet. Not unless it's holding a ring or necklace or SOMETHING more interesting.
So he wanted to give me a bouquet. I said no. Plain and simple…no. He was so insistent though that I gave up and decided to take him to a farm so he can pick his own fruit. Personally I thought it was hysterical. And it was! I had so much fun torturing him with all those tired farm animals and took so many pictures that I completely forgot why I was doing it in the first place. It was so quiet and peaceful and even though he was being an asshole and COMPLETELY missed the whole idea I still had a lot of fun.
That is until we decided to go for a drive. We nearly got lost. In fact, we did get lost since we never made it back to the farm! It was HYSTERICAL. What’s worse is he was starving and bitching that he was starving and lost and had no idea what to do. I ate my mango in peace and with a HUGE smile on my face. FUCKING HYSTERICAL. It was a long while before we came to a restaurant called Aloha’s.
There we shared a lovely meal in a secluded part of the restaurant (next to the kitchen entrance) in a dimly lit booth. I think the waitress thought it would be cute to dim the lights when she found out it was our 4th Wedding Anniversary. There we were eating Calamari when all of a sudden we think we’re having a seizure, but no we were fine. Once Rigid was done spazzing out or making ghost sounds we were left alone. It’s funny, waitresses young and old absolutely love…LOVE to make small talk with my husband. Cute, flirty small talk that makes me want to punch them in the mouth. Not because I’m jealous mind you. No, that’s not it at all. It’s just annoying. “Oh, he’s got such a cute accent doesn’t he. Say ‘bananna!’” he quickly obliges and says, “buhnahnah.” In his throatiest voice while trying to appear casually disinterested. He’s not fooling anyone. He loves the attention and the girls love to give it to him.
If I could tell you how many times girls have stood next to me stared at my husband and said, “There’s just something about him. It’s the accent isn’t it? It’s just so cute!” as they turn to look at me they might say, “You must LOVE it.” and I say, “No, not really. I’m used to it.” What’s really funny is the look I get after that as if it’s not possible to be totally and completely *UNfacinated by someone’s accent. Especially someone like him.
I’m sorry. I’ve never been much of a giggler and I’ve never given a shit about his accent. There’s only one thing I care about and his accent comes out of the wrong end so…there.
What the fuck am I talking about? Oh yeah, dinner. For dinner I ordered seared Ahi Tuna and Rigid ordered half a bloody fucking cow. That steak was literally 2” tall and over 12” long. That’s a stupid amount of meat to put into your system and I shit you not Rigid shoveled it down in about 5-7 mouthfuls. It was sickening. He was shoving pieces into his mouth that were probably 2x3. do you know how large your mouth has to be in order to stick that in without looking like a fucking grouper swallowing a whale? Seriously? I don’t think you do. My pieces are usually smaller than 1” all around and my mouth is a good 2” wide so I don’t look like a cow when I’m eating. Rigid’s mouth is…well, it’s tiny. It’s not as wide as mine and his lips are small so when he opens his mouth he literally has to shove things in there. He literally has to shove it in and push it further to close his mouth. He looks like a snake trying to swallow it’s prey. It’s gross and I’m always shocked at the things he can fit in there. Now, you want fascinating? THAT’S fascinating. I love to watch him eat.
I had never been witness to gumption before certainly not eating with gumption, not until he came around. It’s simply fascinating. Too bad my Ahi was ruined by this funky butter sauce. Way to rich for me. Still, we had a lovely time and it was even lovelier when I conveniently forgot my wallet in the car and he paid for dinner. I really did forget and I was willing to run to the car to get it, but he didn’t let me. What a guy. Yeah, that’s sarcasm because if I hadn’t forgotten my wallet he would have LET me pay.
Where the fuck is my bouquet bitch? WHERE?
Oh yeah, so let me reiterate. NEXT TIME (and I should link the last 3 anniversary blogs as reference) feel free to give me a pair of pearl earings in a wooden box. You could try a MASSIVE picture frame and print one of my favorite pictures or a big wall mirror with beautiful dark brown wood framing it. The point is be creative.
Take me on a trip to the mountains so we can pick pine cones or do something interesting! Don’t just take a suggestion and take it so literally. I still haven’t gotten over it and if you think I’m not hurt…think again. I don’t mind frugal. Be frugal if you have to, but be creative.
He’s never going to get it is he? Like, it’s never going to happen. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’ll never be satisfied. Maybe he’ll never make me happy so why should he even try? Besides, there’s only one thing he needs to give me that’ll keep me happy. ….If I could roll my eyes any further I’d be looking out of the back of my skull.
Mistimed: 10:48 AM