Ninapintasantamaria's Blog

{June 30, 2009}   Rules

My husband tends to be one of those people who point fingers and say “But they were doing it too”. Or he lives in denial and thinks nothing’s ever going to happen to him, or he won’t get caught. Hence, we have many prior transgressions, be they on the road or at work, or here at home. That could all have been avoided. So, today, I finally put my foot down. I told him that if he got pulled over for not wearing his seat belt, I would divorce him! I’m tired of avoidable mishaps. After this week, I think he believed me. Heh. *evil grin peeking out*

Also entitled: Are you really wondering why I’m mad?

Today, I came home to my husband who’s possibly out of a job getting a tattoo. In my dining room. Now, the guy was apparently a tattoo artist and was using professional, sterile equipment. But in my dining room? Ewwwww!!!!! He buys a piece of shit money pit, he gets a new tattoo, he’s possibly out of a job, what the hell’s next? I don’t need this right now. What the hell’s wrong with him? He seems to be under the misguided delusion that this is still all about him, and so he has to do something stupid and childish and selfish, or he’ll just explode! Guess what?!! It’s not! Your wants are no longer a priority. I’ve heard tell that this is really normal for a soon-to-be-daddy, but dammit, I don’t have time for this to be normal!!! I need to see responsible decisions!! I just….I don’t know. I was a little emotional this afternoon, because I just can’t take any more stress. Aaaaaand all of this came out. Loudly. Tearfully. Did I mention loudly, cause I’d like to think maybe the people in Smyrna might have missed it, but I’m thinking not. It started out with me just sniffling in the living room, hollering into the dining room about how long was this gonna take. So he came in there (mid-tattoo, so that makes him husband-of-the-year, in the parallel universe that is his mind) ostensibly to check on me, and asked me what’s wrong. Hence the title of this post. I had to ask. So, I then went into all the information related above, and how cars like this are for when you’re retired and have no responsibilities and in possession of a lot of disposable income, of which we are none. Right now, we need dependable, a/c, and carseat hook-ups. I then went into the “you’re possibly about to lose your job, and the first thing you think of to do is get a tattoo? What the hell’s wrong with you!!!! We are not trashy bikers, or 21-year-olds with more money than sense. We are not children!!!!” To which he responded “Fine, I’ll sell it. I’ll never have anything I want ever again.” I couldn’t help myself. I hollered after him “What are you, 12?!!!? I got the glare, then he stomped back off to the dining room to continue being just, you know, the best husband ever. If I were a biker chick wearing sterling silver, leather, low rise blue jeans, thong hanging out, aaaaand pregnant, I’d probably be ecstatic about now. But, only being 1 out of 5, yeah, not so much. Oh, yeah, and tits bouncing in a tube top. Can’t forget that. Yeah. NOOOOOOTTTT!!! I know. I’m a graphic writer. Anyway, he sulked for awhile, went out and drove his newly fixed car, and came back over himself. I hope this shoe sticks up his ass, cause, soon, I’ll be off balance and won’t be able to shove it up there as hard. I’ll have to acquire a dowel rod.

Oh, disgust, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I’m learning to love you, because soon, I’ll forget what it was like not to feel disgusted. Well, didn’t get to church this morning, because my husband didn’t even ask if I needed my car for anything and just took off in it. Do you think God will appreciate the intent? I really hate when he just takes off in my car and doesn’t tell me, and I really, really, really hate it when he takes off in my car and inconveniences me so he can go get parts, gadgets, etc for the car that he’s working on that isn’t currently running. I fully intended on going to the grocery store in it as well. He can be the most inconsiderate bastard sometimes.

I took the guys who are helping him work on the car to breakfast this morning, and as I was standing in Waffl.e House, I realized I needed the restroom. I get in there, and realize I had the wrong end pointed towards the toilet. I jumped up and was sick, but in my exuberance to aim appropriately, and not make a mess in their restroom, I got too close to the seat and some water splashed on me!!!! I wanted to hose myself off in bleach!!! Thank God I had my glasses on, or I could have been exposed, ya know? I promptly washed my face, hands and glasses, as soon as I could stand upright, but…just…eww. This could only happen to me. Ever, in the history of the human race. I think I’ll go back to bed and start over. In fact, could I just start my life over, please?

Oh, dear God. Please don’t let my husband get fired. Please, please, please. He got a ticket this week in his work truck, and then he bumped a dumpster in a parking lot where he was delivering. Didn’t damage anything, just had to get someone to air up the tire, but they’re looking for anything, right now. I can’t work enough to pay for our lifestyle. I just can’t. We’re about to have a baby, we’ve got bills to pay that we’re behind on some of them because the stupid worker’s comp people didn’t pay him on time, the car’s broken down, and now this. Oh, God. Please. I’m praying, cause that’s all I can do. This has just been a horrible week. This is what I’ve always told my husband was gonna happen because he won’t bother anyone (like to move their car so he can get to where he needs to get to) and doesn’t think ahead and tell the people that are angry with him for delivering late that the company is enforcing the time limits on their driving for safety, so they’ll have to take it up with them. Please don’t let him get fired. Please!

UPDATE: Well, he’s been suspended till Monday. Hopefully, this means they won’t fire him, just put him on probation or something. Keep praying, please! I’ll keep up my end at home. I think I’m going to church in the morning.

{June 22, 2009}   What do you say when…

someone asks you “So, is this your 1st?” I’ve been telling everyone the truth, which is yes and no. I then have to explain about my little girl, well, I was 18 weeks along and that no, we didn’t name her, and oh, well, um anencephaly is a lethal fetal anomaly that causes….*sigh*
So, as you can see, this sets me up for a lot of awkward stares and questions. I’m not a shy person, and I’ll tell you just about anything you want to know, right down to the size of the Mt Vesuvii (The New Official Moniker for “the girls.” I’m gonna need a crane to hoist ’em into the truck soon). But, I don’t want to give too much information, and I certainly don’t want to dis-count her, as she was my 1st child, and I don’t like making people ill at ease, if I can avoid it. One of those southern things, I guess. I was raised that you make everyone as comfortable as possible, and try to include everyone in the conversation. That was my mother coming right out of my mouth. Or fingers, as the case may be. I wish I could find a way to tell the truth, but not necessarily have to go into so much detail. I’m just not that graceful under pressure, I suppose. I’m out of ideas, yet again. Any thoughts?

{June 22, 2009}   I’m surrounded…

by pen.ises! I’ve put up pics, but I’m afraid it constitutes child p.o.r.n. Yep, we’re having a boy! I’m still holding out that boys are stupid, though. Just not this one. This one will sport the Einstein ‘Do, and know the square root of pi by the time he’s 5! (This is my plan, anyway. We’ll see if it actually comes to fruition.) We got a money shot at my 14-WEEK u/s today! My husband got so excited, he actually cried. (Shhhh….don’t tell anyone!) He’s excited that it’s a boy, me, I’m just excited there’s something to be excited about!

Oh, and about the car. It’ll be fixed Saturday-ish. So I’ll only have to go without sleep for a week. Just a week. I’m still a little pissed. But only a little.


And I had to sign into my blog this morning. I bet he found my last entry. And he knows I’m pissed like fuck. Serves him right! Hah! Jackass. Yes, I let the sun go down on my wrath, or whatever it is the old people say who’re just too old and tired to fight about it. Hah! I swear, if he gets this car fixed, I’m gonna make him sell it. I’ll make him get a new car with a warranty that he can’t touch anything on it or it voids it. Dammit. It’ll be another payment, but damn, I’m tired of him breaking things that don’t need fixing! I’d almost rather make a car payment!

{June 21, 2009}   Quid pro quo.

He just tried to make fun of me for being distracted by a chick flick commercial. He said they must implant subliminal messages that say “Watch this stupid movie”. I told him they must put subliminal messages in E.bay car adverts saying “Buy me. I’m a piece of garbage, and I’ll lay down on you weekly, but buy me anyway!” Humph. He ought to know better than to fuck with me right now. I have no shame hitting below the belt.

{June 21, 2009}   The fucking car quit running.

The fucking car that I told him not to buy, that he already had a car that ran perfectly, that I told him was 22 years old and bound to have problems. You know what he told me? He wanted to get something he wanted before the baby got here, cause he knew he’d never have anything he wanted again. I wasn’t convinced, but I told him, fine. If he just had to have it, he was not to spend any more money on it than what he got selling the perfectly running car. That’s probably still running perfectly in North Carolina, somewhere. Yeah. Well. Let me know how that works out for other people, cause now, the engine died, it has rod knocking (what he said), and my pregnant fat ass is gonna have to get up at 2am and drive him to work. Never mind how he’s gonna get home. Never mind that I have a dr’s appt in the morning, and have to go to work right after that. Where there are patients that depend on me to be alert and not tired. And it’s gonna cost approximately $2000 to fix, which we have to get a loan for. Just when we were paying stuff off and finally gonna be in a good position. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he did this on purpose, just so I’d have to keep working and not be able to stay home with “The Chunk.” I am so pissed off. You just don’t even know. We are not amused. At all. Even a little bit. And the thing about it is, I don’t want to be right. I want everything to work out according to plan, but I’m too practical and far-seeing to really believe it. He says this is me being “negative.” I say it’s me being realistic. But I can’t help telling him “I told you so” especially when it was me telling him the whole time not to do it, and now I’m the one being inconvenienced and put upon. Why can’t he listen to me and see the same things I see, instead of “oooh, something pretty and shiny, and I WANT IT!@#$!” Can you say “toddler”? I can’t even yell. I just want to cry. It never fails. Just when we’re getting to a point where we can take a breath. He always gets mad at me for questioning him. What am I supposed to do? When I let him go, he does stuff like this!!!

Ok, we had Weirdo Wednesday, right? Yeah, well Thursday, I think I got hit on twice. Of course, I’m an idiot, and didn’t realize they were hitting on me till like 10 minutes after they walked away, so I answered in my typical smartass manner, not in an offended one. Great. And another thing. Why are they hitting on a fat, married, pregnant chick? Ok, well, not fat, but getting there. I’m a bit confused. I’ve decided that if it happens again, I’ll show ’em my u/s pics. Hopefully, that will put them in their place. Ugh. Flattering, but just…ugh. I’m soo not, you know, the office drama type.

Friday was ok. It was just long, and tiring. Oh, and I’m totally in love with the Twilight series. Will be reading this soon.

et cetera