A Mustache, A Beer, and Feminine Deodorant Spray

Let me just start this story by saying, I'm sorry. Not to you! Who the hell do you think you are? This apology is directed at my neighbors who have the misfortune of sharing an entire wall of their duplex with me and the hubs. Because y'all, sometimes...like last night, we fight.

Before you start signing us up for the marriage ref, slow your roll. Go here and read about how we deal with each other. Our fights are rarely ever serious...and last night was no exception.

The fight in question was over...wait for it...the last beer in the 6 pack. I was sure it was mine...because he'd had 3, I'd had 2...marriage math says that last Miller is mine sucker, now hand it over. Hubs has a slightly different take on the situation. He's bigger therefore he requires more beer. DING DING DING! Point of contention reached. Each of us now found our separate corners (he's standing in the bathroom, I'm standing in the bedroom, ensuring we will have to shout), put on the gloves and came out swinging.

Now, before you start in with the "why didn't one of you just go get another 6 pack" nonsense...understand me when I say this..THAT IS NOT THE POINT! The fight was over the beer that was left. The end.

He starts with "I always do things for you, you owe me the last beer". Which I followed with "I picked your blind ass up from the eye doctor today, I did the LAST nice thing between the two of us, I get the beer!".
Hubs: "I listen to your stupid stories"
Me: "I ignore your ridiculous facial hair experiments"
Hubs: "You said you liked it that I looked like wolverine!"
Me: "I was lyinggggggg!!"
Hubs: "What about the mustache?:"
Me: *going in for the kill* "IT LOOKS STUPID AND ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT MAKE YOU LOOK LIKE A COP!!!!"
Hubs: Silence...eery silence. Then he takes this fight to the next level and THROWS MY ISLAND SPLASH SCENTED TWAT SPRAY BOTTLE STRAIGHT AT MY HEAD!
Me: Ducking and barely escaping "You missed me, now give me the beer."

I can't believe of all the ammunition he could have grabbed, that is what he reached for...it was like he was trying to actually harm me and tell me I need to bathe at the same time. Rude? I thought so. Anyways, this is about the point where I'm shoved out of the bathroom, and he locks the door behind him.

Moral of the story? Boy roommates suck.

But I'll give you one guess as to who got the last beer. Here's a hint...they don't have a Reno 911 wannabe mustache...

Best part? I didn't even drink it. I know. I'm a total bitch...but I'll have it tonight, cheers to the hubs that puts ups with my growing level of crazy and all will be right with the world again.

Always,

L

P.S. I'm glad to see so many people want to join the procrastination revolution with me! I'll be sending out invites to all that asked for them tonight :)