Tonight was one of those nights.
Tom decided that he was going to make "his" meatloaf. As opposed to "my meatloaf that I never make the same way twice.I was totally okay with this. Tom is a pretty fair cook and I always apperciate a break from any mundane chore.
Tom lovingly made his meatloaf while I was sleeping. I woke up shortly after he put it in the oven. I never even bothered to check his work. He's a big boy and I'm not his mommy.
The meatloaf dinged and this is what I pulled out of the oven.
I KNOW, RIGHT! You don't even need to tell me, I was there.
I already knew I wasn't going to eat it. I had it all planned out. I got everyone's plates ready and was going to tell Tom that I wasn't hungry if he asked any questions. It was a good solid plan.
Tom helped me get dinner to the table ( very rare) and started to count plates. He asked where mine was and wasn't I going to to eat it and I choked, almost literally. I panicked.bells and whistles and alarms went off in my head as I stammered. My answer was not quite what I had planned. It was more along the line of " It's scary". Actually that's exactly what I said.
Foot, Mouth, no need to formally introduce you two, we've been here before.
Not only did I say that but I proceeded to defend my position even further degrading my sweet husband. I'm a fantastic wife, aren't I!!!! I just kept ramming my foot further down my throat until I was at least up to my knee.
I know it's been a while so, Knee meet Mouth, Mouth this is Knee.
At this point the semi-smart person would SHUT THE HELL UP! A smart person would have never said a word in the first place. I'm apparently neither. No I'm definitely not.
Case in point. I proceeded with my little defense case to the point of telling my now seething and wounded beloved that salt and pepper and ground beef does NOT make a meatloaf. It's a hamburger in loaf form.
And there it is folks! I just shat my foot out of my ass and am parading around like I'm Miss Fraking America! I wonder if the circus will take me in because this is truly a sight to see.
Thankfully, my last remaining braincell took over and I finally put a sock in it.
To make matters worse, I had posted a status update pertaining to Tom's hard work.
It wasn't nice. I should not have said that AT ALL.
To make matters worse, I checked facebook after dinner ( because I'm a bit obsessive) and my very good friend Amy had posted this just for me.
It was perfect! I didn't even have to play the clip. I laughed so hard I almost peed myself. I was laughing right up until I felt Tom walk up behind me and read over my shoulder.
I think he knew what scene it was too.
My only brain cell was still in control and walked me into another room.
The next hour or so was filled with a boat load of awkwardness. Lots of it. I was never so relieved to see Tom leave for work even if I didn't get my usual kiss good bye.
For the record I did apologize at one point and it was promptly and summarily dismissed. I earned that. I also told Tom that I expected him to be honest with me about my cooking. I'm sure he'll use that one early and often. I earned that too.
I'm an ass, plain and simply. If anyone knows of a good doctor that can put my foot back where it belongs let me know. They can sew my mouth shut while they're at it so I can't do it again and lose weight at the same time. If not some one find me an agent because I'm sure I could make money off this freak show.