Friday, September 7, 2007


This is for those of you who read my heavy handed posts. The posts that showcase my sensitive, caring side. The posts that speak lovingly of my family and friends, the posts that give Sugar the appearance of serenity and stability, the posts that literally shake with my righteous indignation.

Here’s a revelation for you.

I’m a bitch.

No. Really.

Read on.

As the only female in the house, I feel it’s my charge to give my men notice when cleanliness and tidiness have reached a new low.

I pass out this information-and here’s the important part- without being asked for it. That’s the kind of person I am, you see.

I’m a giver.

Little never has to wonder whether or not to shower after football practice. I alert Big Daddy when his feet and armpits turn. I make sure Big is aware it’s passed time to wash his hair.

I also illustrate my suggestions with facial expression. Paraverbal communication is vital. But since I want them to feel good about themselves, I sprinkle my advice with endearments.

(Gagging) “Jesus, Baby, you smell like a goat, go get in the shower.”

(Scrunching up my nose in distaste) “Good God, Sweetheart. Get those feet away from me-and take your stinky shoes with you.”

(Jumping up off the couch and running with my hand over my mouth) “Whew! It smells like something crawled up your butt and died, Honey.”

(Turning my head away in disgust) Darlin’ your breath could stop a truck. Did you brush your teeth this morning?”

Sometimes I just walk through the house sniffing. This is especially effective. The trick here is to sniff twice, comment, walk on, and repeat.

(sniff, sniff) “What’s that smell?” Walk to the living room.
(sniff, sniff) “No, it’s not the carpet.” Walk to the laundry room.
(sniff, sniff) “No, it’s not the hamper.” Walk to the bathroom.
(sniff, sniff) (Full Body shudder) “Ah, Jesus, Guys. Damn! Can’t you hit the toilet? You’re adults, all three of you. Do I need to put Cheerios in the stool? Huh? Look at the floor, for Christ’s sake. Aw, Man. It’s on the floor! I am not sitting on that pot! That’s the grossest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and if you think for one minute I’m setting foot in that sty to clean it you’re sadly mistaken!

But because I give this advice with love and concern only for their well-being and self-esteem, they jump right in and get the bathroom cleaned up.

Love, affection, respect.

...and you thought I was lying about the bitch thing.

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