Tuesday, January 8, 2013
The Penie-Whacker Diet
Last night, we had Kid 3 over for the night. Generally, I’ll admit, I’d argue the point if for no other reason than to give the Harridan a moment of grief in the hope that she learns to stop handballing drama and grief at us.
Yesterday however, I had stayed home from work suffering from Day 2 of a migraine. In short, I couldn’t be bothered putting in an argument and it just seemed easier to make no comment. And it was easier. At the time...
But then the Squeeze went off to get a haircut and I got woken by the bathroom door to my bedroom sliding open and then slamming shut in a hurry, which I assume was the kid. So sleeping after that was not going to happen... Instead, I got up and polished copper...
The kid, phone in hand, was watching some old black and white he’d downloaded… Asking class mates to come over and sit through a couple of hours of old black and whites obviously isn’t helping in the “friend” quest.
So here we are, half way through the school holidays and he has been nowhere with no one; (I refuse to count family in that mix.) There is still no job and yet all roads in “conversation land” are leading to the trip to Paris including the Squeeze financing travel insurance in anticipation.
The only way that kid is going to Paris, is if the Squeeze pays for it in full; and that will be the start of Armageddon because proving to the Harridan and Kid both that his threats are just empty words, means it will forever be open slather on his wallet. But that is a whole other tangent!
Last night we had all of 2 minutes of conversation. Hell, I couldn’t lead it. My head was thumping so opening my mouth seemed like too much effort. There never seems to be conversation required by the Squeeze or kid; far too much interest is in technology.
Then the Squeeze came in the door with souvalaki and a huge box of chips for dinner (oh let’s just slap some more lard on my arse…) and laid it all out on the coffee table so that they didn’t actually have to tug their eyes from the television to eat. We had to ask the Kid three times to put the phone down before he paused to pick up his plate.
And that is when it happened... He slunk off to the loo. After a moment, I looked at the Squeeze and mouthed “hand washing…” just before the loo door flung open and the kid comes back to the lounge as if he’s on a monopoly board; he passed the bathroom; he didn’t collect $200 or a hand washing. He went directly back to his dinner.
Almost in slow motion, I saw him lean forward and thrust his penie-whacker tainted hand into the box of chips, pausing to massage each one individually (it felt like) before dragging a handful to his plate.
My already precarious appetite shrivelled. I muttered a quick “no chips for me” to the squeeze and set about picking at my souvalaki before tossing it all in the bin.
This morning, I actually feel better for not having consumed such a fat laden meal.
The penie-whacker diet actually works!
Posted by Mistress at 11:15 AM