Family Affair

My whole family got pissed at me during dinner last Wednesday, because of this site and especially because of fucking Sacopapa. Like I don’t waste enough time on this fucking site as it is. Before I get into why they got pissed, let me outline the cast of characters.

1. First we have The Furor. You may know her from my previous posts. Basically what she says goes. Condoleezza and Hillary have nothing on her. She’d be dropping nukes and making OPEC say uncle. I am not playing. She’s the fucking boss and that shit is cool with me as long as I have alcohol, smoke, and can watch my current shows. I am a man of simple tastes.

2. Next on the list is my daughter, 14, who I call “Fashion Show”. If you see her getting ready in the morning you’d think she was headed for the catwalk instead of fucking middle school. Her room looks like a clothing explosion went off at the Twilight premier party. I don’t mind, but it gets The Furor mad, which I receive shrapnel from, so I beg Fashion Show to clean up for sanity’s sake. She also is the only person who dares talk back to and yell at The Furor. My son and I usually head for the hills when this happens. Lucky for her she is an honor student. I told to let me know a day in advance if she ever has to show her mom an F. I’ll be working late that night.

3. Then there is my son, almost 17, his look is kind of a mismatched hippie punkrocker with a side serving of 50cent. He quit High School Baseball last year, which sucked for me but almost gave his Cuban baseball fanatic grandfather another heart attack. He is currently on a job search and getting his driver’s license soon. I can’t wait to see my new auto insurance bill. He keeps his room clean, is passing his classes, and The Furor has accepted that he will not get a haircut. He just stays quiet when The Furor gets mad at him. This gets her mad, but not nearly as mad as Fashion Show’s backtalk.

6. Last and least (the dogs are #4 and #5) there is the Robotman, which if you have read my other posts, you get the picture.

So,I get home from work last Wednesday. My wife is making dinner, a nice meat and vegetable soup since it was a bit chilly out for Florida. It will be ready in 20 minutes or so she says. It was looking like an evening of sheer domestic bliss. Since I have a few minutes, I sit at the computer and surf foobies for a quick peek and then I go to my wife hates me. Cool, I notice a new Sacopapa post. Off the bat he mentions his father-in-law so I already know this is going to be good. After reading about the shit, the breaking of shit, the butterknife, the fucking bananas, I almost piss my pants laughing. Disgusting yet hysterical.

My wife calls me for dinner as the kids are already sitting down. I go over still fucking giggling and thinking about the shit post. They ask what I am laughing at and I start telling them about the post while my wife is serving the food. They are all starting to dig into dinner when I get to the part, still laughing, about the piece of shit the size of a midget leg. Suddenly, all hell breaks loose, and I quickly stop the snickering.

Fashion Show gags on the soup, eyes watering and unable to speak. Later she told me soup went out her nose. My son drops his spoon, “fucking dad, we’re eating”. If I wasn’t his dad I think he would have punched me in the face. The Furor looked at me like I just ate a box of fucking crayons, just completely disgusted at my existence and speechless for a moment (a brief moment).

The dinnertime discussion was pretty much her talking about what an immature ill-mannered idiot I am with my kids agreeing 100% while I ate my soup still chuckling inside at the banana-shit post. I am the Robotman and I’m starting to think my wife may hate me.