Tuesday, October 9, 2012

The Potts' Family: We need a religious intervention.

It's been a while since I've felt truly silly.  Silly postings used to drip off my fingertips like honey from a hive.  I have to admit, this does make me a little sad.  I miss laughing out loud while I'm henpecking away at my son's borrowed laptop (Yes, mine is still suffering from a burdensome virus which I can't afford to repair.  I suspect it came from the last boobie page I visited and was too ashamed to admit to my husband.  Oops, I guess it's out of the closet now.  Sorry, Eric.  I was chatting with my cabana boys again, Luis and Carlos.  They just can't get enough of me and let's face it - why would they want to?)

When I have to borrow something from my sixteen year old teenager, this reaaaallly annoys me.  For instance, I have to slink and slither about the house and wait for the scoundrel to leave for school before I can unplug his laptop and bring it into my bedroom.  Sure, I could just do it in front of him but would suffer the consequences of listening to the following:

"Oh, so you're the one using it..?  Please make sure you plug it in correctly when you're done." or "Mom, something is wrong with my computer, what did you do to it?"

OH PLEEEEASE, give me a break!

Here's a good one, my youngest kiddo, Austynn, becomes Satan himself when his autism and anger escalates.  The four-letter words he throws at me when he doesn't get his way are enough to consider calling the Vatican and requesting an Exorcism

Last week, he refused to get out of bed to get dressed to go to school.  Instead of calling the local police and having them sweet talk my 167 pound demon out from under his covers, I took a different route - I treated him like the the toddler he was being.  I used my brute strength, pulled him out by his feet (which didn't land him comfortably on his head - might I add), and undressed him while doing my best to dodge his kicks, bites, and scratches.  I couldn't dodge them all.  I'll admit, he hurt me and while doing so used words I've only heard in the best Halloween horror movies.  While this was going on I explained to him that when and if I did call the police, they would see my battle scars and sweet-talking would not be their next tactic.  His excuse was that he learned all his finest curse words from dad and I. 

Now, I'm sorry - but when was the last time I've used the words, "fucking, fat whore" to describe someone?  This was a bit of a stretch - even for me and I must admit, for the girlfriend of a former marine, my cursing vernacular is pretty darn good.  Nope.  Austy's verbal diarrhea skills are all his own.  The Holy Water will be brought out as soon as possible and the Evil One must be defeated.

I've just re-read my blog and it appears to me that my household is EVIL incarnate.  I visit boobie pages and infect my laptop with hearty viruses.  My children say mean things to me which place me in terrible snits.  I haven't mentioned this yet, but my dogs are very ill-behaved and will bite bare toes and tug on shoelaces of anyone who dares walk through my front door.  And my husband, Eric - he's the worst.  He appears to be a sweet, quiet, mild-mannered, polite, Clark Kent type of guy but these are precisely the ones you have to watch out for.  They're the scariest of all characters.

Any comment made - no matter how innocent - becomes instant fodder for sexual innuendo.  Why is this?  He blames it on his upbringing!  No one is safe and no topic is off limit.  It will go on as the night progresses regardless of how often eyeballs roll or how loud or painful the groans become.  Trust me, my dear friends and blog readers, I have lived with this man for eighteen years; I know how it begins and unfortunately, after four or five beers, how it progresses.  If, by the end of a party, one has not seen the bare, white, hairless skin of my husband's ass, one may consider themselves truly blessed. 

Dear God in Heaven - the entire Colorado Potts' home needs a religious intervention.