Bitter Wives Club

I’m sorry, did I miss something?  I must have.  I thought I was almost 30, living on my own, married with two kids.  I guess I was wrong.  Apparently I’m seven and living at home with my parents.  No, seven wouldn’t be right… they were actually nice then… so it’s more like I’m 16 again… and everything I do deserves a critique/lecture.

Today I learned this:

Time out for a two year old who is smacking you in the face, will cause permanent psychological damage.  We’re talking scarred for life, extensive therapy kinda shit.

Beer is bad.  If you drink more than two, you’re a raging alcoholic.  And drinking during the day is a sure sign you should check yourself into rehab.  (Which right now is not sounding like a bad idea.)

While they do nothing but sit on the couch and watch tv at their house, I’m supposed to have a full itinerary of fun crap for them to do.  Even though we’re out in the middle of no where and the only thing to do is look at cows.

You shouldn’t smoke.  It causes cancer and it makes you look old.  Cause I haven’t seen that commercial a million times.

Despite that I’m skinnier than I have been in 7 years, I should still lay off the McDonalds.  The french fries are not doing my ass any favors.

At their house electricity is like gold.  But at my house, it’s totally cool to open all the windows while the air conditioning is on.  Hey, they’re not paying the bill.

It’s not that I don’t love my parents… I do.  But they are really pissing me off today.  I’m gonna go lock myself in my closet now… you think I’m kidding…

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