Wednesday, January 19, 2011

What the Fuck Happened to Tim McGraw?

This was going to be a rant but I'm currently being distracted by an old recorded episode of Ellen with Tim McGraw on it.  And he's wearing glasses and has stupid hair.  Glasses and no cowboy hat=no sexy.

So why would I rant?  Because I still can't wrap my head around the death of the women's movement or at the very least my own morphisis (sp?) into a simpering stupid housewife.  So no I'm not really stupid nor do I really simper but despite being pissed off at my husband I just spent the last 45 minutes running around cleaning up so it's neat and tidy because I don't feel like I can relax until it is clean.

The other day I made some half-joking half-not comments to my husband about the leisurely life he leads in where he gets up to children fed, maybe dressed, coffee made.  Then if he hasn't dressed already he goes upstairs to the closet and to his dresser to find clothing that week after week just magically re-appears there, clean.

He never has to plan a meal.  He rarely cooks.  He detests cleaning.

These are the things I don't do:  shovel, mow the lawn, talk to bankers or car salesmen.  This list used to include picking up dog shit but this summer I wasn't interested in waiting for him to do it any longer, so out I went.

I loved school.  Especially university because I loved Sociology and Feminism and talk of the Women's Movement and feeling like I was going to be one of these liberated intelligent driven women. 


Instead I have grown my hair long, wear gel nails and am waxed to the hilt because these are all things my husband finds attractive.


I work two part-time jobs and yes I consider my jewellery hawking a job because I put a great deal of time into it.  And I do everything else too.


Tonight my husband asked if I was going to come to the hockey game with him.  This was after we'd already established neither of our older children would be available to watch the two younger children.  To make this painfully clear, WE DID NOT HAVE A BABYSITTER AND HE KNEW THIS.  So when I gave a curt "no" followed by an equally curt explanation of our child care situation he became "curt" as well and said he was merely asking a question.

What kind of stupid piece of shit question is that?  You know the fucking answer.  Yes I'd like to go but that doesn't mean I'm able too and if you have not done anything to remedy that situation this afternoon then go fuck yourself.

Instead he's at the hockey game and I did homework with the seven year old, cleaned up the kitchen, tidied the living room and put both boys to bed.


Sometimes I see older couples out and the man will be well groomed and attractive; sometimes only because he appears to really take care of himself.  Then I'll look at his wife and wonder what the fuck happened to her.  She might be overweight, have three inch roots, just essentially look like a bag of shit and I'll wonder what she looked like when they met and why she let herself go like that.

I think I now know the answer.  It's so tempting sometimes to just say fuck it and throw in the towel.  Fuck cleaning.  Fuck make-up.  Fuck. it. all.

As far as I can tell the Women's Movement resulted in us being able to work outside of the home (still for less than equal pay).  We can wear pants.  Um...yeah, so there's that.  To date, I only know of one marriage that even resembles an equal partnership.  And I'm quite good friends with this couple.  And its hard not to seethe with envy or spend copious amounts of time comparing circumstances.  Often I'm left wondering what I've done to not deserve the same kind of treatment.  Then I give my head a shake.

The worst part may be what my children are learning.  My daughter currently states she will never marry or have children.  I can't say that I blame her.  My seven year old brought me down an arm load of socks today for me to fold.  We bought him new ones yesterday and upon taking a pair out of the pack to wear today, he thought it prudent to get the rest down to me ASAP so I could get busy doing what I'm here for.

What. the. fuck.

So if I don't like it, change it?

Sure, how?

Thoughts?  Suggestions?

Maybe we could hold a forum, sponsored by Three Olives Grape Vodka, to discuss?  Maybe I need to write the next 'Feminine Mystique'? Wish I'd been born a walrus?

For now it appears I will problem solve with peanut butter cups.

Fuck it.


  1. I think that this post was beautifully written and I agree with it.
    I feel the same way lately.
    I lost my job 5 months ago and I get the same shit since I've been home.
    Let me know if peanut butter cups help

  2. Well, you just laid it all out there!! Being a woman sucks...I feel you!!

  3. Thank you Sherri. The peanut butter cups were really only a band aid solution and I didn't have enough to do a thorough job!

    And thank you lushnuts!

  4. Your husband sounds like a douchebag and your dysfunctional relationship is rubbing off on your kids. Plus, you sound like your kids are a burden, and instead of feeling blessed you're complaining like a spoiled brat, or did you not know having kids required self-sacrifice? You may be one of those parent who never took their kids out to dinner or an event because, well, they're "kids" and wouldn't be able to handle it. Get a fucking grip. Tell your husband to carry some fucking water or he can enjoy a lifetime of dirty floors, frozen pizza, and masturbation. If your kids are old enough to sit and do homework they're old enough to vacuum the carpet and load the dishwasher. As for being waxed - well, I'd rather be that than hairy, so it's not all about what your husband wants. I think you're just projecting. Stop whining and take some control.

  5. My husband is a douchebag sometimes and so am I. My kids are not a burden. Do you have children? I have four which is a lot of work. I wouldn't trade any of them in. Since all you know of me is from one blog post (or however many you've read) you really don't have any clue what kinds of "sacrifices" I've made or haven't. And no, we actually take our kids out to just about anywhere. Restaurants, movies, hockey games, etc.

    I'll give you this much, I was whining. Ranting, whatever you want to call it. It was very much one-sided and written out of anger. And since this is my blog, I'll write it out of anger if I so choose. And you can choose if you want to read my whining self-serving martyr words or not.

  6. I am all for the forum. COunt me in.

    : )

  7. My husband is an ass sometimes and sometimes I act like a total bitch....that's life! Nobody's life is perfect all the time! We all have bad days and get pissed off at things. Some days my kids are horrible and I feel like I could give them away to the next travelling salesman, but at the same time, I love them more than anything in the world! If you don't connect with this blog, piss off and read another one! There are plenty out there that may appeal to you. I know this Penny Lane's crusty sense of humour and I like it, so here I will stay!

  8. Hang in there friend and know that you are beautiful waxed or waned, make-upped or downed, angry, whiney, pissy, bitchy, moody, sad, happy, elated or downright orgasmic!! wahoooooooooooo!! I would rather see you fully experiencing all the emotions (that are fucking normal, Carlie) than being completely numb! My guess is that if you are able to be this passionately pissed (I get that way too) than you are equally passionately happy at times. Hang in there, shnukums! The kids will grow independent about the same time you start wearing diapers again! =)))

  9. Nicki you remind me so much of another very dear friend of mine, Lori. So supportive and so awesome. I'm hanging in and today is a much better today. Guess that's life, hey? (read between the lines and it says "bite me Carlie").

  10. WEll Im sorry I didnt read the one before me yesterday or my comment might have been different.

    Im with you, I piss and moan all the time about life.
    and I do it on my blog, well......
    cause its my freakin blog.
    SO keep up the good work. Im 100% behind you.

    Just sayn....

  11. Thanks KittyCat. Much appreciated, as always.