Yesterday afternoon I had lunch with Biggie. After a rough weekend, he felt there was only one way to turn things around: with bacon. When he extended the invitation he said he was on the verge of killing someone and he had to get off campus, PLUS he offered to pay. How could I say no.
Once in the car, and after we exchanged pleasantries (which of course included comments on my fine rack and his disappointment when he saw I was wearing pants), he proceeded to tell me why his weekend had been so shitty. It wasn’t one thing, but a series of things that led him to his breaking point. His dog decided it was time to eat his favorite shoe, then proceeded to vomit pieces of it on the brand new white carpet in the living room. Someone keyed his car at the grocery store. Saturday morning he went to open the fridge for the cream he puts in his coffee, only to realize he had forgotten to buy some the previous day. His mother-in-law showed up unannounced and decided it was time to reorganize some closets – for four hours. After leaving, his wife harassed him all night about going. He refused since because of the weather, so she decided to stand in front of the TV while he tried to watch a little college football. And to top it all off, on Sunday night, his wife took a brand new gallon of ice tea out of the fridge and proceeded to drop it on the just mopped kitchen floor. The bottom popped off and the tea spilled EVERYWHERE. This set him off and he went into freak-the-fuck-out mode.
He went on a tirade on how much life sucked and why people don’t listen, and blah, blah, blah. He yelled so much and so loudly that two sets of neighbors proceeded to show up to make sure he and his wife were not in some kind of danger (read: that he wasn’t beating his wife). When they asked if everything was okay, he proceeded at yelling again. It all ended in a massive headache.
When he woke up in Monday morning, the dog refused to get up for his morning walk. It took an extra 15 minutes of cajoling to get him on the move. He took a look at the car and realized it would require scraping all of the ice off the windshield – making him late to work. Once he was done with the dog and the windshield he went back inside the house to say goodbye to his wife. She rolled over, and asked him if his headache was gone. “Yes,” he responded. “Good. You were a total prick last night.” and she rolled over and went back to bed.
As he told me the story I was rolling – especially when she called him a prick. That’s when he started sharing what she typically does when she gets mad at me. Her wonderful and creative techniques include hiding his good socks, and clearing out the DVR. So he’ll wake up to watch a TV show he recorded, only to realize it’s completely gone. But my favorite – this one had me weeping – is when she walks into the kitchen while she’s there, takes out the pitcher of iced tea he’s just brewed, walks over to the sink, and pours the entire thing down the drain while she stares at him. She then puts the pitcher on the counter, leaves all the tea bags in the sink, and just walks out.
Almost makes me want to have a boyfriend so I can pull that kind of shit. Good times. Good times.