I'm sure there will be more to come as they're so damn fun!
Why? Because sometimes your husband deserves it. I won't go into some laundry list of what crimes against wife humanity my spouse has committed. We all know what they might be. Lying, cheating, stealing, changing the channel during Real Housewives... all are on equal cold shoulder footing to me.
The result is still the same. Just. Stop. Talking. I know, this may not seem like a punishment. Men go around claiming we all talk too much anyway. Isn't this rewarding them? Nope. It's not. Why? Well there are two reasons. One, they're sort of stupid and don't realize they should perhaps enjoy this. And two, because it usually means dinner will be delayed or perhaps not even magically appear.
You see, to our husbands we are like fat and hairy versions of the tooth fairy. We don't collect teeth. We take more valuable things than that, like their youth and dignity. But in return we give them clean clothes, cooked food and half the chromosomes to satisfy their god given desire to spread their otherwise utterly useless seed. We are the tooth fairies for adult men. Sometimes we even wear cute little dresses and nearly smother them with the pillow while we're looking for something.
And sometimes the tooth fairy needs to shut the fuck up. Cause a tooth fairy that just stands there staring without saying a word is the stuff that nightmares are made of. Next time you'll watch Real Housewives. Oh yes. Next time you'll even like it bitch.
I work from home. I'm one of those lucky ones. Not quite as lucky as those ones who are software surgeons or brain engineers. Cause they work from home and earn a lot of money. I'm one of those, 'I'd rather work from home and be poor than suffer under the tyranny of a frail bald douchebag as my boss.' Not that I'm poor. I'm no slumdog millionaire. I'm more like a Japanese Yen thousandaire. But you know I won't be regularly shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue anytime soon. Not even at Off Saks Fifth Avenue. Maybe the dumpster behind it if anything. Seriously, no thanks Off Saks. If I'm going to spend $100 on a pair of sunglasses I want my ass kissed a bit in the regular Saks. I don't want to spend that kind of cash for outlet mall, sucking on her slushie, spotty teenager cashier service.
Where was I? Oh yeah, I work from home. And I have the added luxury of being able to look at my gorgeous iMac (if my computer were a supermodel it would be Christie Brinkley- looked hot in the 80s and still looks hot in the 10s) while I work. So I watch a lot of Netflix. I'm the one who is screwing up the bandwidth in my whole fucking neighborhood. My stream is busier than a pregnant woman who just drank a gallon of water.
And I don't know why but I love horror films. I used to be the type of person that couldn't watch a horror film even in the middle of the day by myself. Just one eery chord of music and I'd be freaked out for the rest of the day. I'd start dousing the house in holy water and muttering, 'the power of Christ compels you' while checking every corner. These days though I'm not that scared. Yes, they make me tense, or they do if they're good. But the fear is gone.
Why is that? I don't know. But what I do know is a bad horror film is better than almost any other bad film. Because a bad horror film can be funny. Or at least a spectacle. But a bad film of some other genre is just bad- boring, dull, devoid of anything good to even look at. In the horror films you at least get a bit of blood and guts, or maybe some topless coeds.
Some of my favorites lately?
Friday the 13th (all the way up to number 5 or 6)
There are many more I could list. But suffice to say if you haven't seen a good horror film lately you are missing out. If nothing else it makes the real scares in life seem not so bad. Really if you had the choice between say missing a mortgage payment or getting chased through the woods at night you'd probably choose the former. Or what if the choice were between having dinner with your Dad and his wife or being trapped in the basement of an abandoned mental institution? Well... I guess on that one I'd choose the institution. Being transported into some other dimension for an infinity of torture is far easier than eating with that slut around.