So on Tuesday morning I came downstairs after behaving on Monday night like it was a Saturday night (are you following this?) and drinking way, way, too much wine during Pot of Crap Dinner That Didn’t Actually Involve Eating any Crap Until We Were All Drunk And Cleaned Out My Snack Cabinet with The Micheles to find this:
Fabular Rumm was not totally trashed by the little children
which was a tremendous relief to me because there’s nothing worse than spending an hour on your hands and knees picking Barbie shoes and sticky bits of lollipop out of the rug. Fuck that.
What disturbed me, Queefies, is this little gift left for me by Big Pussy, who we will refer to from now on as “Crap Bag”
And he thought he was being helpful by motivating me to get off my ass and post my first DAILY STYLE photo. Ya-ta-da-da!!!! There it was.
(See? I told you guys you didn’t want the stuff you make anywhere near my deadvomitmouse pictures.)
And so I called Mister because when there’s a dead mouse in the middle of your living room and you have a hangover, you’re going to need some support.
Me: Benny killed a mouse, ate it, and barfed it on the rug.
Mister: Yeah? You gonna clean it up?
Me: NO WAY!
Mister: You can’t let it sit there all day. Clean it up.
Me: Can’t you come home and do it?
Mister: You want me to come home from work to clean up a dead mouse?
Me: Oh my god THANK YOU!!!! YES!!! HURRY!!!
Mister: I don’t think so. Get some rubber gloves and some paper towels and pick it up.
Mister: I have to go. Deal with it.
Me: HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO ME???? YOU DON’T LOVE ME!!!!
But it was too late. He had already hung up on me.
Clearly, Mister is not very supportive of me during Times of Crisis and if you can, please remind me to write that down on my divorce papers right after “chronic masturbator” and “steals my clothes.”
So I did what anyone in my situation would do.
I left the house and went to Target.
And I shopped up and down and all over and then when I had bought all there was to buy, I had to go home and face the deadvomitmouse.
So I went into the dining room and looked at the mouse from a safe distance and tried formulate a plan for how to remove it without having to enter the room or touch it and coming up blank I called every friend I could think might be home and nobody was (thanks a lot. Cunts), and so then I really had to face deadvomitmouse.
So I got Homeslice all situated in her exersaucer
That’s an exersaucer for you uninitiated people. I don’t know if I spelled it right. I don’t care if I spelled it right because I’m really just excited I remembered what it’s called. I usually just call it “the thing.”
And I put on Mister’s gigantic rubber gloves because I’ll be damned if I use mine on something that gross and I got out the paper towels and my salad tongs and a Wal-Mart bag and I put on my sunglasses ( I don’t know why but I felt I needed eye protection) and I wrapped a scarf around my mouth and nose in case the mouse had really died of The Black Death and not by Crap Bag at all and I went into the living room.
And I put the paper towels on top of the mouse and started to reach for it with the tongs but then I got grossed out and I shrieked and jumped away and called Mister back.
Me: I can’t believe you’re making me do this.
Mister: STOP CALLING ME!
And then he hung up on me A SECOND TIME!!!!
I can’t believe it either!
So after a lot more shrieking and jumping around my living room going “ew!ew!ew!ew!” I finally managed to do the deed with no help from anyone and without even throwing up.
But I’ll tell you what. I’ll remember this, Mister and Crap Bag.
Next time either of you want a little pussy petting you can fucking forget it.