I love my Brown-Brown Burrito.
I'm in the basement. The door is closed. I am sad because I know that at some point, the door must be opened, and I will be required to climb the stairs. And it is a war zone up there. Except. Nobody really realizes it but me.
My inlaws are planning this horrifically massive Godfather-esque Italian wedding. Upstairs, as far as the eye can see, are the presents. The prizes. Wrapped in pink for the wedding shower tomorrow. There are 75 of them. I am attending this shower. Me and four trillion old Italian ladies. I'm imagining floppy hats and lace gloves. Cheek-pinching. Not understanding ANYTHING ANYONE says to me. The family is angry, stressed out by planning. They are quick to the defensive and somewhat hostile. Tony brought pizza for dinner. Pizza that he made himself at the restaurant he used to work at. He was proud of it - it was cute. His sister ate once slice and said, 'Well. It's not DOMINO'S'.
I responded by flipping the dining room table over and tearing my shirt in two - you know, Hulk-style - and screaming WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE CAN'T YOU EVER BE HAPPY WITH ANYTHING STOP YELLING AT MY FUCKING DOG I AM SLEEPING IN MY GODDAMNED CAR TONIGHT BECAUSE I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE. You know. In my head. That's what I did inmyhead. Actually, I grabbed my precious Annabanana and took her for a thirty minute walk in the rain. In the cold, Canadian rain.
I think that things are a little tense between his family and I because yesterday, Tony told me that we're not "allowed" to bring the Banana when we come to my sister-in-law's wedding. And we're supposed to be here for a week. I can barely go seven hours without my Brown-Brown Burrito...let alone seven DAYS. I told Tony that they could go ahead and cross me off the guest list. So. I was gone for a couple of hours today, leaving Tony alone with his mom. They talked about it and, according to him, 'she was upset but everything is fine now'. He won't tell me what was said and I'm a little irritated that I was left out of the negotiations. Mostly, I'm just curious to know if she said anything bad about me.
Bet she did.
My inlaws are planning this horrifically massive Godfather-esque Italian wedding. Upstairs, as far as the eye can see, are the presents. The prizes. Wrapped in pink for the wedding shower tomorrow. There are 75 of them. I am attending this shower. Me and four trillion old Italian ladies. I'm imagining floppy hats and lace gloves. Cheek-pinching. Not understanding ANYTHING ANYONE says to me. The family is angry, stressed out by planning. They are quick to the defensive and somewhat hostile. Tony brought pizza for dinner. Pizza that he made himself at the restaurant he used to work at. He was proud of it - it was cute. His sister ate once slice and said, 'Well. It's not DOMINO'S'.
I responded by flipping the dining room table over and tearing my shirt in two - you know, Hulk-style - and screaming WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE CAN'T YOU EVER BE HAPPY WITH ANYTHING STOP YELLING AT MY FUCKING DOG I AM SLEEPING IN MY GODDAMNED CAR TONIGHT BECAUSE I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE. You know. In my head. That's what I did inmyhead. Actually, I grabbed my precious Annabanana and took her for a thirty minute walk in the rain. In the cold, Canadian rain.
I think that things are a little tense between his family and I because yesterday, Tony told me that we're not "allowed" to bring the Banana when we come to my sister-in-law's wedding. And we're supposed to be here for a week. I can barely go seven hours without my Brown-Brown Burrito...let alone seven DAYS. I told Tony that they could go ahead and cross me off the guest list. So. I was gone for a couple of hours today, leaving Tony alone with his mom. They talked about it and, according to him, 'she was upset but everything is fine now'. He won't tell me what was said and I'm a little irritated that I was left out of the negotiations. Mostly, I'm just curious to know if she said anything bad about me.
Bet she did.
posted by inveil | 5:33 PM
6 Comments:
Yeah, I'd count on it.
You can leave BurritoFace with me.
Yeah, I'd count on it.
You can leave BurritoFace with me.
Does the double posting mean you really, really mean it?
And what if she is attacked and eaten by a scorpion? What if YOU are? I suggest switching states. ASAP.
Yes, I meant it double.
And I think dogs have some kind of innate instinct about abusinve, tiny cretures. We have roughly eighty billion gazillion thousand black widows webbing and breeding around a delinquent gazebo (is that spelled right? No way.) out back, and The J Man sleeps on the steps of it. And he's good.
Or maybe that's random. Since he jumped out of a window and all. Maybe he's just smells bad.
Jesus, I just read the first line of my last comment and I had to stop. Damn. I love that I so smartly questioned my spelling on the eleventh word I mispelled.
*lmao* typos are such a turn on...
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