It’s been one of those nights. A night where Mike and I cannot agree on anything. It’s enough to drive you to drink; but if I were to do that I would be a very bad mother according to Meridith Vieira ( Since this item has been blogged to death all I will say is she can kiss my chubby white ass. If you were a “normal” parent that cared for your own child you would completely understand the rest of society).

What was a simple trip to run some errands turned into a full fledged “Why the fuck did I marry YOU?” fight. Yup, one of those nights. All I wanted to do was go to the bank, WalMart and the drugstore (since I ran out of crack earlier in the day). Could it have been that simple to complete those minor tasks, as a family? No. Hell no. Why the fuck should anything be simple? Gawd forbid. This is why I (almost) never run errands as a family.

We fought about Carter not wanting to be in the cart, about what plastic plates to buy, the list goes on and it’s quite trivial…. I wanted to go to the bank before WalMart, no reason in particular, just did. I told him ahead of time and what does he do? Takes a completely different route. Had I reminded him I wanted to go to the bank I would have been called a nag. But he didn’t go to the fucking bank did he? Nope.
So we stopped talking to each other. One last stop, the drugstore (for my crack). Did he go there? Nope. Straight home.
I’ve had it up to my freakin’ eye balls and wanted to cause him the worst kinda pain. Pain he’s never felt before. Something like pulling each and every pubic hair from his nether regions one buy one. Severe pain. What do I do instead?

Get back in the car and go for a drive. I finish my errands at the crack drugstore and buy a new lipstick while I’m there.

Then…

I put on my new lipstick, blare my favourite album and sing belt out lyrics at the top of my lungs.

What could make you feel better then that?!