Yeah, another post about food

13250591519271585003

Now I know I’ve made it pretty clear I love food and not to fuck with me when it comes to what’s considered a treat. So today, after a particularly trying day at work, the kind that usually involves alcohol and really good food to soothe me, I remembered I had an ice cream cookie sandwich in the freezer.

See a few days ago Hubs B went to the store on an ice cream run where he so kindly picked up not one ice cream cookie sandwich, but two. He knows me well. I ate one immediately and placed the other in the freezer for a day just like today.

After a small (but kinda big) pity party for myself, I decided to celebrate by enjoying my ice cream cookie sandwich. Yay!! Food!! I opened my freezer and expected it to be sitting right where I left it, considering it’s been weeks since I went grocery shopping, but it was not there. I pulled everything off the shelf I left it on, still no sandwich and the panic began to set in. Then in something that bordered between rage and fear, I tore through the freezer, pulling everything off the shelves. Panting and sitting on the kitchen floor with a pile of frozen food around me, it still couldn’t be found. FUCKING SHITBALLS MOTHER WHORE, WHERE’S MY FUCKING ICE CREAM COOKIE SANDWICH???!!!

Then it hit me. Hubs B. At that moment he was out running (exercise…what the fuck?) and the more I thought about it the more I knew it was him. How could he betray me like this? Devastation turns to anger as I picture him enjoying my bad day correction. He better pray with everything in him to some kind of god that he didn’t eat that sandwich, because he’s never getting laid again if he did. (This is a lie. I’m the one who can’t hold out, but I was seriously angry.)

Hubs B walked in and I immediately accused him:

Me: Did you eat my ice cream cookie sandwich, you motherfucker?

Hubs B: (A sheepish look on his face.) Yes. I’m sorry.

Me: Why? I’m so sad right now.

Hubs B: Dessert food has a two-day statute of limitations in this house. You left that shit for at least four days. And I ate it on the same day you went out with BFF and had Harp Shandies and ate a bunch of cinnamon sugar donuts.

Me: I brought those donuts home for you.

Hubs B: No you didn’t. You bought them for yourself and then felt like you needed to share them with me.

I couldn’t deny this, so I just backed off. Doesn’t mean I’m still not pissed about the cookie sandwich. Good thing I love Hubs B more than food. Shocker, I know.

PM2

Speak Your Mind

*