Things got heated up, then Satan spoke, and that’s why there’s a disclaimer.

November 8, 2013 in Stuff I Should Think About Regretting Later

I could say kinda legally this is a guest posting.  But it’s kinda legally not.  It’s still me but my doctor put me on some crap to make my vajazzle do its monthly job and Dear God in heaven it’s making even me question who the hell I am this week.

Or who I’m not.  This week.

Therefore, here’s a disclaimer for whatever reason one might be needed since this is kinda me but then kinda not.

And if I didn’t cover everything…be sure and throw whatever isn’t covered in the comments:

For recreational use only. For office use only. For entertainment purposes only. Do not disturb.  Your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device.  In the event of decreased air pressure, oxygen masks will pop out of the top of your monitor.  No money down.  No purchase necessary.  Employees must wash hands before returning to work.  Caution, coffee is served HOT.  You must be present to win. Winners need not be present to win.  Eat your veggies. Wear your seatbelt. Don’t take candy from strangers… or strange people… or anyone really.  Don’t quote me on that.  Don’t quote me on anything.  If something offends you, lighten up, get a life and move on. 

Is that it?  Did I cover everything?


No salt, MSG, artificial color or flavoring added.  Ribbed for her pleasure.  This article does not reflect the thoughts or opinions of either myself, my friends, or my cat.  I don’t have a cat.  Pray for my family this week.

There.  That should do it.

Moving on.

I don’t cook.  And don’t care to cook.  But if I do, keep your mouth shut because I don’t need to hear it needs more salt or it’s too salty or the pasta is sticky or there’s not enough spice or whatever.

So, I married and man who cooks awfully great and who has a daughter who cooks awfully great.

(There’s actually not much I can do in the kitchen that is satisfying to either.)

(And that’s ok.  Because you know what…that’s just one less thing I gotta do.)

(Amen.  Halleluia.  Praise Jesus.  Pass me a biscuit that I didn’t make.)

They both are veeeeery particular about their cooking, too.  Which is a great fit for us…because I don’t give a rip.  Whatever they do and however they do it, is just fine by me.


(They both are THAT good.)

For example:  Keith likes cheese shredded by hand.  By one of those knuckle cutting shredder things.  I’m elatedly fine with pre-shredded out of a bag.

For example:  Cayla does all cookies, cakes, brownies from scratch.  I’m ecstaticly giddy with that roll of dough you slice then bake after you’ve eaten most of it raw.  And I ain’t no hater of Betty Crocker box stuff.


Friggin’ ridiculous.

They both might cook much better than me, but there are a few things I do much better than either of them.

I can commute one-hour to work and one-hour-17-minutes home from work like nobody’s business.

I can mop the shit out of a kitchen floor.

Nobody can continue a conversation with no facial reaction changes after being hit unexpectedly by a fart, like I can.

Underwear on the floor gets picked up without a complaint.

I can tolerate the smell of feet or sweaty head or hormones or whatever that smell is that reeks from a teenagers room.

See?  Who gives a rats ass if the cheese is shredded by hand or the cookies are baked from scratch if you can scrub a toilet bowl with your bare hands and a brillo pad?

And there’s one more thing I can do better:  Macaroni and Cheese.

Of that, I am the queen.  If only in my world.

It’s the best breakfast ever.  To me.  Nothing like a Saturday morning alone with my bowl of mac and cheese.  And not those clumpy half curled noodle things.  No.  It’s gotta be shells.  And it’s gotta have milk and butter in it.  And the shells have to be just at a certain softness.  Not mushy.  But not crunchy.  Because that’s how I love it.  Just me and my bowl of macaroni and cheese can solve all the worlds problems any given Saturday morning.

(And it always just taste better on a Saturday morning.  Though I’ll take it anytime.)

Here’s where I’m going.

Since Keith was cooking and I was hungry and wanted to rush things up without acting like I was rushing things up, I said I’d start the macaroni and cheese.

(That’s how much I love my family.  It was the last friggin box and I was giving it up for them.  What I’ll do for breakfast on saturday, who cares?  Apparently no one.  Because again, it was the last friggin box.)

Wanting to make sure the shells weren’t undercooked or overcooked to their liking, I let him tell me when they were cooked and ready for the cheese.

As I grabbed the handle of the pot to take them to the sink to drain, well…it went down like this…

Me:  “OK.  All I do is put the cheese in, right?

(Because remember…I like milk and butter in mine.  And God knows they don’t.)

Him (Without thinking or looking or realizing just how his life was about to change):  “Yes.  But drain the water first.”

(Drain.  The water.)


(Drain the water first.  He told me to drain the water first.)

It’s like life immediately went into slow motion.  I couldn’t believe what I had just heard.  My ears had this really loud ringing sound in them at this point. 

Me (Or actually Satan because the voice that came out was from such low nether-regions and the wording was spoken at such a slow, almost motionless rate, it had to be Satan speaking):  “What did you say?  Did you tell me to drain the water first?  Do you think I am such an imbecile I don’t know to drain the water BEFORE putting the cheese in?  Do you really believe I know nothing about being in the kitchen?”

All of that had to take about 3 minutes to say because apparently Satan speaks very, very low and slow.  Very slow.

(FYI:  He clenches his teeth when he speaks that low and slow, too.)

Man.  Keith just froze.  Eyes closed.  Faced scrunched up.  He knew it was too late.  Life, as he knew it, was over.

I drained the water, cheesed that shit up sans milk and butter, and put it on the table.  With a smile.

(Cayla asked why we were having my breakfast for dinner.)

Nothing more was said about that little situation the rest of the night.  And honestly, I wasn’t mad or upset.  I just blew it off because really…I save my energy for bigger battles.

(And he’s such a good man…he didn’t mean it the way it came out.  Satan assured me.)

(And I knew how he meant it when he said it.  I just couldn’t keep Satan concealed and in my nether-regions.)

Well, nothing more was said except for when Keith said, “Hey, baby…how about we do a big breakfast Saturday morning before we get started for the day?”

My reply?  “Sounds great…I’ll go to the store after work tomorrow (and my one-hour 17 minute commute) to get everything.”


Lisa Hewitt November 8, 2013 at 3:05 pm

Satan has been busy down here in the South. I challenged my husband to a fist fight yesterdy, and I meant it. I have been painting our brand new old house for 7 days. It was ugly and dark ugly – the entire house. The problem was the dark ugly – baseboards and crown molding and the cabinets in the un-kitchen (I’m told that is how you refer to an open floor plan with the kitchen/den in one big ole room). The dark ugly went nuclear on my ass on day 4 or 5 and kept bleeding through. He just assumed I was not doing it right, but, and I quote, “Anything is a step forward”. Exfuckingcuse me? The coffee pot broke Monday and he asked me “what happended” – I tried to roll with it best I could. Now I’m getting “anything is a step forward” – No, it’s a million steps, up and down the ladder and my ass bones and knees hurt and that damn paint – anyway – finally – he “let me” after my suggestion, Kiltz everything. Well the paint is just going on beautifully now. No Shit. I told that sonofabitch on day 2 or 3 something wasn’t right, but no, rocked on to day 4 and 5 – I don’t even know where I’m going with this – other than – I do, indeed love that man, he is alive. By the way, he is, by education, profession and 25 years experience, a Maintenance Supervisor. I shit you not. Good luck with your breakfast.

Carrie November 8, 2013 at 6:02 pm

First. I must apologize. Because I hate to admit I just laughed my balls off at your terrible situation. I all but had to close up the laptop at “Exfuckingcuse me.”

And dude is a maintenance supervisor??? OMG I bet your blood pressure was (and is) spewing. I swear…I’d give up a box of mac and cheese just to be a fly on the wall in your life.

YOU ARE A DAMN RIOT!! And I love you to pieces!!

Meredith @ The Girl Next Door Drinks and Swears November 9, 2013 at 6:37 pm

Men are idiots.
My husband is in the process of talking to contractors about putting a pool in our backyard. I was adamantly opposed to one of them because his price was astronomical in comparison. He told me (and I quote) “When you put in something like a pool, it’s not like just going to walmart and picking something off the shelf because it’s the cheapest, you know.”
And then I didn’t even divorce him.
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Carrie November 9, 2013 at 6:54 pm

HAHAHA!! Not like going to walmart…friggin awesome!!

I hear you. I find myself shaking my head quite a bit. But if I’m honest, not near as much as Keith shakes his. Dude has his hands full, fo’sho.


Adelyn November 10, 2013 at 9:52 pm

Love the disclaimer…only thing missing was objects might be closer than they appear. Or maybe…stupidly unnessasary husband comments are closer than anybody needs. Oh husbands…even the good ones can sure step in it, huh!?!

Carrie November 11, 2013 at 8:06 am

GREAT additions. They fit better than what I have.

Yes, even the good ones can fall from grace every now and then. Of course, “we” never do…but we’re not talking about us, right?


a morning grouch November 11, 2013 at 9:24 am

haha, what a surprise he’ll get 😉 I am so with you on the cooking bit – sounds like we cook similarly! And, I too, call the grater a knuckle-shaver – FOR SURE. Dangerous fucker to be used only in emergencies.

And….now I want mac and cheese. With SHELLS. Mmmmm.
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Carrie November 11, 2013 at 10:17 am

I don’t mind cooking, but I don’t love it. Plus, why do that crap when it’s critiqued out the ass? I’d much rather do the dishes…much rather.

Quicker and easier.

Used the cheese shredder just last night. Needless to say, that speck/chunk of red that was in the white cheese was my nail polish.

Uh, huh.

katie metzroth November 12, 2013 at 1:37 pm

You’re going to die, but……..when you got to “It’s like life immediately went into slow motion. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. My ears had this really loud ringing sound in them at this point. “………….I literally thought, huh. she doesn’t drain the water first? and that tastes better? This is where you realize that I’m a worse cook than you!
and you know what we had for dinner last night?
salad. 🙂
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Carrie November 13, 2013 at 8:36 am


Keith would love you for that. Love you for life. He likes when he gets more support on his team. He needs a big team to deal with me.

I love your kind of cooking, too. A good salad is close to heaven in my heart.

Val November 25, 2013 at 5:28 pm

Can I borrow your disclaimer? I’m going in for a complete hysterectomy next week to get Satan out of my nether regions. Last time I was put into menopause he didn’t come out and play but I’m not sure if he’ll want to come visit now that I’ll be in menoforever. (why is it called pause? is it coming back?)

OH plus, they are keeping me overnight at the hospital and I plan to be playing on my phone as much as possible. My FB groups are super excited to see what I type stoned lol Aren’t friends awesome?
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Carrie November 25, 2013 at 6:22 pm

Hellz yeah you can have that disclaimer!

Oh, Lord…sister I feel for you.

But hey, us awesome friends will be right there waiting on pins and needles for your status updates! I wish you didn’t have to go through all that crap just to give us some laughs though.

Hang in there and keep me posted!

Val November 25, 2013 at 6:49 pm

After 17 years it’s about time it brings some humor to someone(z). I’m ready to be pretty damn hilarious the night of the 6th. So grab your drinks that night and wait for nothing to make since on my fb wall.
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