Something that bugs the living crap out of me, for obvious reasons:

One of my kids eats two corn dogs for lunch, then at 3:00 p.m. announces that he’s hungry and needs me to make him a sandwich.  You know what that’s a recipe for, pal?  Never eating another corn dog as long as you live in my house.

Something that bugs the living crap out of me, for less obvious reasons:

“What’s for dinner?”

I don’t know why this question bothers me so much, especially when I know the answer to it.  When I don’t know the answer, it just feels like nagging.  It’s that much more pressure on me to figure out what’s for dinner.  RIGHT NOW BECAUSE THE PUBLIC NEEDS TO KNOW.  When I know the answer, why shouldn’t I just say what’s for dinner?  Why does it bother me that they always ask?  Maybe because it makes me feel like a restaurant competing for their business.  I need to post the menu so they can decide whether or not they’re going to dine at my table or go elsewhere.  Maybe out to the freezer for a third corn dog.  OH I DON’T THINK SO.  Seriously, why do they need to know in advance what’s for dinner?  Why can’t they ever just be surprised?  I’ll put it on the table and you can eat it or not eat it.  What other choice do you have?

What really bothers me is when they see a big pot of boiling water with long noodles in it, plus a smaller pot with some kind of red sauce in it, and they STILL ask what’s for dinner.  Really?  REALLY?  What do you THINK is for dinner?  I’ll give you a hint–no, two hints:  long noodles and red sauce.  Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock…Oh, you’d like to use your life line?  Very well.  IT’S THE SAME THING WE HAVE FOR DINNER EVERY MONDAY.


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