Terror In the Freezer

One would think after being terrorized multiple times in the past few months that I’d learn my lesson and stop doing nice things for my husband. Not me! Nope. My husband’s struck again.

While watching Sanctum after Nellie’s bedtime, my husband asked if I’d mind making a pot of decaf coffee. He doesn’t often drink coffee, and said he was craving a cup so being the sweet and awesome wife that I am, I told him of course I’d make him some coffee.

I went into the kitchen, rinsed out the carafe from this morning and replaced the filter, opened the freezer and found that in addition to the coffee, chicken nuggets, popsicles and vodka there was also this.

 


HI, MY NAME IS CARL AND I’M HERE FOR YOUR SOUL. I ALSO DRANK ALL YOUR VODKA LOL.

Luckily this one only gave me a slight start, I jumped a little and said “gah!” and turned to face my grinning, giggling husband. He clapped like a small schoolboy and did a little victory dance.

Seriously. I’m gonna piss in his shoes one of these days. Or in his hat. One of the two is getting pissed on by me.

 

Terror in the Microwave.

If you’ve been reading my blog for the last few months at least, you know that my husband likes to scare the ever-loving shit out of me. On Mother’s Day, he put a stuffed squirrel on the back of our toilet. The next day, he hid a prop rat in our linen closet. I even wrote a post about the beginning of his reign of terror.

My friends, Daddy Green has struck again.

We were sitting on the couch watching a horrible movie about some crazy chick that kills her neighbors in weird ways (we’re normal, I swear) when my husband says sweetly, “How about we make some popcorn?”

Now, I loves me some popcorn. I excitedly agreed, and he suggested, “Why don’t you go make it and I will rub your back?”

I also loves me some backrubs, so I leaped off the couch and headed to the kitchen. I pulled a bag of popcorn from the box, turned to face the microwave, opened the door, and came face to face with this:

 

EXPECTING TO COOK A DELICIOUS SNACK? GUESS AGAIN BITCH, IT’S TIME FOR RABIES.

As my brain processed the impending doom and infection of rabies that lay before me in my microwave, I made a slight “Ohhhhhh!” noise and did a little hop. I turned around to face my husband, who had slithered off the couch and was laughing so hard he couldn’t produce any sound. All that came from his mouth was a slight wheezing as he turned red in the face. I walked over to him and looked down at him as he gasped for air and flapped his hands at me. I wondered for a second if he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen and decided that if he did, I’d take a pee in his shoes and draw on his face as payback for scaring the shit out of me. Alas, my husband did not pass out so his shoes are dry and his face is safe.

People keep telling me I need to exact my revenge, but believe me when I tell you that this is no easy feat. My husband is almost impossible to scare or embarrass. Anything that I could do to scare him would just be mean. I couldn’t tell him I was pregnant, because he’d be elated and then I’d feel like an asshole when I told him I was joking. I don’t know how I’m going to get him back, but I’m going to, damnit.

Suggestions are welcome. Privately, because Captain Pranky McChuckleface reads my blog.

 

Morning Terror In the Bathroom {Daddy Green Pranks Me AGAIN.}

If you haven’t read about the lovely little surprise my husband left me for Mother’s Day, please take a moment to do so now so you get the full effect of this morning’s antics.

Go ahead. I’ll wait.

Ahem. Yeah. That actually happened to me. ON MOTHER’S DAY.

Anyway, I survived my heart attack and moved on with my life. This morning I dropped Daddy Green off to work, came home with my lovely lady and we had some breakfast, drew on her drawing pad with her brand new crayons that we bought yesterday (off topic, how the hell is my kid old enough for crayons already?), and then mama had to take a shower. I put Nellie in her Exersaucer to watch Baby Einstein while I got ready.

After showering, I decided I was going to give my hair a break from blow-drying today and see if my cut worked with a wavy style. I turned around to open my bathroom closet to retrieve my hair gel and came face to face with this asshole:

GOOD MORNING. I'VE COME FOR YOUR SOUL.

Now, it took me a moment of shock for my brain to register what I was staring at and when it finally did, I screamed so loud that I am genuinely surprised my upstairs neighbor did not call the police, thinking that I was being brutally murdered. I flapped my hands uselessly and then promptly facepalmed myself.

My husband had gotten me. AGAIN. SONOFABITCH.

It’s on, Daddy Green. I don’t know how I’m going to get you back, because you are nearly impossible to scare but by god… I WILL get you back.

This. Means. War.

 

First You Gotta Do the Truffle Shuffle

One of my favorite TV shows is America’s Funniest Home Videos. DON’T JUDGE ME, the show is absolutely hysterical. How can you NOT laugh your ass off at people falling down the stairs or leaping off of trampolines and crashing into bushes? Maybe I’m just sadistic. Whatever.

My point. One night we were watching this show and we saw a series of videos in which the wife would lock her husband outside, and before she’d let him come back in she’d make him dance – videotaping him all the while. Kind of like this:

Well we, of course, thought it was terribly clever. We laughed and laughed and laughed.

I stopped laughing when my dear husband started doing it to me. When I’d get out to retrieve a lottery ticket or a soda from a gas station, I’d come back to find the car door locked, the window down and a song blaring while my husband grinned evilly at me from behind the wheel. He would not unlock the door until I made a spectacle of myself in the middle of the Golden Gallon.

This has been going on for years but for the first time yesterday… He caught me on camera.

Ahem. I’ll wait a second while you marvel at my dance skills your hysterical laughter subsides.

Daddy Green… The gauntlet has been thrown.