Man vs. Broadzilla.

Holy Mary Mother Of PMS Batman.

I've NO patience - not upon discovering that "my teacher didn't give us any homework" is code for "I just didn't bother to bring it home", I don't want to walk the dog, it's too cold; you left me too long at daycare - I wanted to stay to do the craft, not be, like, the last child to be picked up.

Do you hear that snotty, ugly pre-teen voice emerging here? I do. I HATE it. Don't throw things over the edge of the balcony today, do not tell me you've made you're own dinner, but spilled half a gallon of milk under the stove and didn't bother to even drop a dish towel on it, and if you want to live to see the light of a new day?

DO NOT in Holier Than Thou tones tell me I just lost a point for swearing and using my ugly voice.

If you had answered the first FOUR times I asked you to let out the dog, get your backpack out of the car, turn off the tv, (a privilege you lost this morning for being bratty) - why is it that men, even men in the making, think that the one day of the month you've abso-frickin-luetly NO patience is the day to tap dance all over your last nerve?

Girlfriends? We don't do that - we've this innate sense of Impending Doom, and just let things slide...maybe it's that look of Push Me Too Hard And I'll So Eat All Of Your Oreos, or how we just get it that some days it's simply not wise to be a smart mouth. Perhaps it's the widening of the eyes, til you see whites and the inner portion of the brain combined with brows knitted so tightly together that not even air could pass through them hovering above the bared teeth - but men/boys?

They miss all these clues.

They'd get a hell of a lot further, with me at least, if they'd at least pay some modicum of attention to detail....if, for example, I've walked the dog in the cold, by myself (which is your job) brought in the trashcan, only to trip over your shoes in the middle of the fucking doorway before I've even had a chance to get my coat off - it's not going to be the best night of your life.

Wisdom of past experiences should remind you that sassing off? BAD IDEA.

Pucker, who's not the sharpest spoon in the drawer (yes, I am trying to say she's a complete bonehead) finally got the point, after I shoved her rather roughly off me, like five times. I could almost see the little light flickering gently above her head - like wow, I recall feeling like that -I was at the vet...something happened....I was tired, and pissy, I didn't know why, and I thought I might bite someone if they looked at me funny - yes, pet me, no don't touch me....yep, all coming back to me now. Maybe best if I leave mommy's shoes alone, at least til tomorrow, and focus my attention elsewhere: on my toys for a change.

Shockingly, she has. She's chewing a bone.

The other one? The one that will turn into a clueless man who then wonders why women are so damn hard to figure out (because they learn to simply ignore the giant neon signs going off around them) has driven me round the bend. And not, mind you, like I need any help. I can get there all on my own, thank you very much.

It's not hard: do what I ask. When I ask it. The first time. Take your shoes and leave them outside, so they stink up the garage, instead of my house - that does NOT mean in the doorway. And for God's sake, when I say, turn off (enter electronic item here) do not, under any circumstances tell me "just a minute".

It might be the last minute you have before facing Broadzilla.

She took on Godzilla, and do you see him around? Hmmm? Nope, I didn't think so either. Evolutionary lesson: Godzilla left his shit all over the house and what happened?

Broadzilla lived to tell about it.