Anger Management

Yesterday the stress got to me.

I might have mentioned here before that I have a few kids, kinda like America has a few illegal immigrants. So meal time with my herd is a little hectic. One of my lovely little angels always tries to take the insanity up a level. And yesterday, I let it get to me. She was asked her lunch preference for the day. Actually, most of the kids were eating bagels with assorted toppings. Now, normally, I might make them all sandwiches and this particular little angel needs a bagel instead. So I have that knocked out because I was already making bagels.

Me: So what can I put on your bagel, honey?
Devil-Child: Do I have to have bagels?
Me: What? Oh, no sweetie pie, you can have something else. What would you like?
Devil-Child: Um....................................(Seconds tick away), I don't know. What do we have?
Me: Same stuff we have every other day. You just think for a sec, or maybe look in the fridge.
Devil-Child: Can I have chicken salad sandwich? (Knowing damn well, we have no chicken salad)
Me: ARRRRRHHHHHH

Then I proceeded to throw the bag of bagels at her. She looked at me with horror and started crying. Most people with souls would have felt bad but they don't ask the same lunch question every day and receive the same blank stare that I do. After the crying and carrying on, lunch was served. The angel finally chose her normal bagel choice.

****

Over the weekend, I attended a cookout. Now, I am not the greatest cook in the world, but I have learned a couple things from Lumpy. Boil the damn brats before you cook em. So here I am at this party and dude is plopping the Johnsonvilles right out of the wrapper and onto the grill. I am not close enough to the dude to freely speak my mind, so I enjoy a cervaza and vow not to partake. Later, as my belly is grumbling and I see the host dining on a brat, it looks done enough. I gaze long enough at the weiner in hand and decide to venture into the fray. After loading up the dog with mustard, onions and peppers, I dive into it. A little pink but not bad. Until bite two when I notice the middle is still raw. The next several minutes are spent trying to maneuver myself toward a trash can to dispose of the bacteria sausage. I settled on a hamburger that was done enough. Stick to your gut. Don't eat the raw weiner.