I’m going to come out and say it. I bloody hate it. Besides the fact that is clearly as boring as bat shit, Hubbster seems to think that the very fact that it is on the TV absolves him of all familial responsibility.
What is so freaking fascinating about a bunch of guys standing around hitting a ball with a piece of wood? I don’t get it.
Anyway, regardless of what I do, or don’t understand about the game (read, give two hoots about) Hubbster loves it. Fair enough. He is completely at a loss to understand why I covet my book collection. The only book he ever reads is the Guiness Book of Records (the 2007 edition) on the toilet, and only because it has lots of pictures.
I get that we are different, but after spending the day in separate child-wrangling pursuits, I don’t mind telling you that I was looking forward to a few wind-down glasses of wine and some…huh hmmm…adult time.
So when Hubbster announced after we put the children to bed that he was just ‘popping up the cricket club for a beer,’ (read going out for a few hours) I was more than a little disappointed. Yeah, a few other choice words sprang to mind, but we’ll run with ‘disappointed.’
Of course I could have resorted to the ol’ wily-woman style charms (read, ‘just told him that he was on a promise) but adding this after he has said he is going out kind of smacks of manipulation, don’t you think?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not adverse to using sex to get what I want from him, (don’t look at me like that, you know you’ve done it too…and if you haven’t you are seriously underselling yourself girlfriend) but I do prefer not to make it so obvious.
So, instead of getting angry, annoyed…disappointed I’ve decided to channel my childhood idol, Miss Piggy. I could have turned all animal on him (again) but I’m in more of a Miss Piggy mood.
Separated at birth? Damn, I miss those breastfeeding boobs!
Tonight ladies, I’m having a ME party! (Make of that what you will!)
I am lurving this song, girls!