Unauthorized biographies and a dinner convo...

So I had a post all written for today. I wrote it last night because I planned to go to town today and run some errands. Then I decided to do that tomorrow. So I'm giving you this post instead because parts of it refer to that post and because well, it's just another example of my family's quirkiness. And by quirkiness, I of course, mean borderline insanity.

Last night at the dinner table, while feasting on deer tenderloins (lovingly hand rubbed with Kansas City spice mix and then broiled), homemade mac-n-cheese, peas (because they are hubbies fav and one of the four, yes four, vegetables he will eat), and garlic cheese bread, we had the following conversation:

me: Didn't I need more icicle lights for outside? I was thinking we didn't have enough last year.

hubby: yes.*grumbling about xmas under breath*

Sean: I refuse to help put up lights on the outside of the house this year.

me: Why? I mean how hard can it be? It's not brain surgery.

hubby: It's a b*tch. Trust me.

me: Really? Because Hildi's hubby puts up lights outside their house and I don't think he whines about it. And he's not as tough as you all sooo..(see my reverse psychology here?? Watch it fail miserably)

Sean: that's because he's scared of Hildi.

hubby: yeah. And they live in a neighborhood where people are going to see the lights. We live in the middle of nowhere. Deer do not care if you put up xmas lights.

me: I see them! Fine. Whatever. If you guys are going to whine and complain, I'll just do it myself. (at which point they began laughing at me). I think you guys are just whiny complainers and I'm sick of it.

Sean: well we think you b*tch alot.

me: well if you guys actually did things when I asked without blowing me crap about it I probably wouldn't have to b*tch so much and then we'd all be happier.

Sean: nah. We're pretty comfortable being lazy whiny complainers and we kind of tune you out anyway.

Hubby: What he said.

me: Well you guys are just spoiled. I do everything for you guys and you can't even accomplish simple tasks with out me nagging constantly.

Sean: Spaceships...I mean what? Were you talking?? (Spaceships is what he says when he's pretending to be not listening).

Me: Do you know how many moms cook meals like this now days?? And at least five nights a week no less? I mean most kids have to eat take out!!!

Sean: I like McDonalds.

Hubby: Don't forget Taco Bell.

Me: There are people in third world countries who don't even get to eat every night.

Sean: well you can't blame their mothers for that. I mean, they might want to cook, they just have no food.

Me: whatever. The point is I cook for you and I don't complain, in fact I'm pleasant about it. And I do laundry every day and I don't complain, in fact usually I'm humming while I do it. Cheerfully. That's cheerful service. I do things for you two in cheerful service. You know what I think??

Hubby: What?

Me: I think the two boy scouts at this table just got schooled in "cheerful service"! By a girl scout. Boo-yah!

Hubby: well I still think xmas sucks.

Me: well I think you suck. Especially this month.

hubby: It's only the first day of the month. I haven't even done anything yet.

me: oh, but you will. And you're already grumbling. And with all the crap leading up to Thanksgiving you were already on my list. In fact, you have all the spots on my list. Like in games, where you get to put your name in when you have a high score? And it lists the top ten scores? Well you have all ten places currently. Although Sean is definitely number 11.

Sean: I'm going to need so much therapy. I honestly thought that Mo moving would be a good thing, because I wouldn't have to put up with her anymore. But instead I'm left alone with the two of you who hate each other so much, but are still wearing the exact same t-shirt!!

me: *glancing at hubby and realizing he's right. We both have on the navy blue camp tshirt from several years back* huh. Well we have like 5 of these freaking shirts.

hubby: yeah. It's your mom's fan club shirt (long story).

me: that's right! So why aren't you wearing one Sean?

Sean: I don't have that shirt.

me: we have a zillion of them and you don't even have one? how weird is that? And anyway your father and I don't hate each other. I don't know why you think that.

Sean: maybe because you're planning on ignoring him for an entire month.

me: You've got that all wrong...I'm ignoring him because I love him. It keeps me from killing him or leaving him. See? We're all about the love.

Sean: So much therapy...

And then this morning:

Me: So I'm writing several posts about you in the next few days. And I'm calling it "The Disco Chronicles".

Sean: No. I don't want you to.

Me: I said you'd be mad. It's my blog. I'll write what I want.

Sean: You can't just write a biography about a person without their permission.

Me: Sure you can. It's called an unauthorized biography. And they sell like crazy.

Sean: Really?

Me: yep. So just sit back and bask in your famousness.

Sean: It's not like you have millions of readers.

Me: Whatever. Amazon might disagree with you. I got a deposit from them last month of $11.51. So there.

Sean: $11.51? That's pitiful.

Me: It's quality not quantity that counts.

Sean: how does that apply to this conversation?

Me: Um. I don't know. But it sounded good. There's a lesson in there somewhere. You should think about it. Grasshopper...find the true meaning.

Sean: what did you just call me?

Me: grasshopper. It's from...oh nevermind. Don't you have something to do? Evil plots don't hatch themselves you know.

Yeah, I'm posting the "Disco Chronicles" anyway. Prepare to be amazed. Or frightened. Or just awestruck by the evil genius that is my son.

xmas time is here again,
♥Spot