In the words of every dumb hick who has ever proved his stupidity to his peers…”you ain’t gonna believe this shit.”  I was having lunch with my husband today.  (No that’s not it, just wait)  We were having a perfectly lovely lunch, and the moron with me looked across the table and said, “I couldn’t go to sleep the other night for thinking about the lies you’re spreading (on this blog) about the chili dog incident.”  My response was, “Create your own blog and spread your lies if you want people to hear your side.”  Then it began…again.

“You know perfectly well that on the morning of that day you said you were making chili dogs and I said okay.  As the day went on I decided that I would rather not have a chili dog and that night as you were cooking I walked into the kitchen and I said…I DON’T WANT A CHILI DOG…and you handed me two anyway.  Then you became angry with me.”  I couldn’t believe that after years…years my dear ones….we were going to have this argument again.  Not because one of us was going to back down,  that was not going to happen.  We were going to have this argument because I had the nerve to out him as a bullheaded jackass in my blog.  I squared my little shoulders.  I stuck my little chin out.  I reminded him that I had a witness who backed me up.  The true story is this:  Yes earlier in the day I had said I was making chili dogs for dinner.  Yes he had walked through the kitchen as I was cooking. I asked him, as he was walking through if he wanted a hot dog or a chili dog.   He mumbled something as he was walking through and in that mumbled mess were the words chili dog.  I assumed  that the sentence was “I want a chili dog” because what moron would say “I don’t want a chili dog” if what they wanted was a hot dog.  I told him that would be like someone with a headache being told they could have a lobotomy or an aspirin and in response they mumble “well I don’t want a lobotomy.”  No…you state what you  DO want, not what you don’t want.

This man, whom I love…whom I have loved for sixteen years…whom I have gone through some of the best and worst times of my life with, looked at me and said “well there’s the problem.  You just didn’t hear me, and as for your sister, everyone knows she’s deaf.”  (insert crickets chirping)  “No, my darling…here’s the problem.  You are bullheaded.  You can’t admit when you are wrong.  You never have and you never will.  There is a part of me that wants to reach across this table with my tiny little fist and punch you in your big fat head.  You don’t listen.  You didn’t listen when I asked you if you wanted a hot dog or a chili dog.  You just assume what is going to be asked and you answer without thinking.  The whole point of all of this crap is that you got your way and I ate a GD chili dog I didn’t want.  I should have made you eat it.  I should have stuffed it down your throat.  I should have pounded your big old head into the ground for being a self-righteous moron, but I love you most of the time, when I’m not hating your stinking guts.  But I swear to God if you say one more word…one…you are going to have that au jus in your lap…courtesy of me.  I’ll do it too.  You know I will.”  More crickets.  He looks at me with a very condescending look on his face.  “I love you.”  “You’d better.  I’m spectacular”  “I love you”  “I love you too, but I don’t want to look at your face right now.”  I walked out to the car and got in without looking at him.  “I love you.”  “Yeah, I love you too.  Let’s get these errands over with and go home.” 

It probably took a good fifteen minutes for the sparks to calm down.  All this over a freaking chili dog.  As God is my witness there will never be a homemade chili dog made by my hand in this house ever again.  It is my sincere hope, that at some point he will desperately long for one of my delicious chili dogs to the point that nothing will do but that he have one.  He will be lying in bed yearning for nothing but a chili dog.  Night and day it will be the only thing he can think about.  Of course I will make the chili for the chili dog.  The scent of the onions, peppers, and garlic will fill the air.  The beans, beef and chilis will add to the aroma swirling around him further peaking his desire for the dish.  When he thinks he can’t take anymore I will walk in with the most delicious looking chili dog you can imagine.  It will be a foot long and covered in chili, cheese, onions…just beautiful.  I will place the chili dog and an ice cold coke zero just outside his reach and sit down beside him.  I will lovingly take his hand and then I will say “do you remember the incident with the chili dogs way back in 2005?  I was right wasn’t I?”  And if he says no, again, I’m eating that GD chili dog right in front of him and drinking the coke.  He ain’t getting shit.  Paybacks are hell!!