Utter Poetry - Can a human head spontaneously explode?

Sometimes, just sometimes, you run across someone on a rant that ends up to be so utterly amazing, it falls into the catagory of poetry.

Case in point.  My Lovely Wife, who happens to be much younger than me.  Because I am a stud muffin.  You can find her original post over at Refusing To Age Gracefully

Take a look around, though the link goes directly to her original post, despite the fact I am copying it here.  She  is a funny woman.  Being with me, she would have to have sense of humor, trust me on this fact.  She will also tell you those pin-up girls aren't her.  While they might not be, she could pull it off.  I just haven't found the right bribe (and that includes large quantities of chocolate) to get her to dress like that.  Won't stop me from trying though.

I won't even bother to go into how I felt about this situation.  Needless to say, it's hard to put seeing red and contemplating explosions and firearms, and torture devices into words.  I will say, that I wasn't totally aware of the entire situation, since not only is my wife much younger, prettier, and funnier than I am, she is also a lot smarter.  She knew I would likely lose control of myself and destroy things.  Like people, small animals, cars, and the invincible Chuck Norris.  Even if I had to Put On A Costume of The Burger King  If you have trouble understanding who Kitty Princess is, because I know you aren't as smart as me, it's our daughter.

So without further comment from the peanut gallery (me), here is a copy of her post.

Can a Human Head Spontaneously Combust?

Okay so there are a few reasons I've been MIA.  One of course is the emotional roller coaster my darling, sweet, precious, oh so blinded by love little girl has had me riding since Christmas Eve.  Since I'm not too sure I can still form coherent thoughts, (lack of good sleep, exhaustion, cleaning for upcoming visit, etc.) I'll just make this easy.

Dec. 23

• Kitty Princess texts me to tell me the bf proposed.
• I inquire about a ring to find there isn't one.
• When will there be one?  Maybe spring.
• What did he get her?
• Nothing.
• Kitty Princess texts me to say "hope you didn't tell anyone, it's not happening"
• I say ummm WTF?
• She says she'll explain when she gets home.
• She gets home and it's "on" again.  Everything is fine.
• Mama Kitty asks very few questions since head is in danger of imminent explosion.
• We all go night night.

Dec. 24

• Christmas Eve!  Yay!
• Kitty Princess wants to know what time bf should come over.
• Kitty Princess is working til 7.
• I tell Kitty Princess not a good idea.  She just saw him and Grumama will be all nervous.
• Kitty Princess agrees and we have a lovely dinner and gift exchange with grandparents.
• Come home and Kitty Princess gets on the phone with bf.
• Boyfriend tells her his best friend's parents are getting him and best friend a job in California at a pharmaceutical company.
• Mama Kitty is happy.
• Then Mama Kitty finds out he wants her to go with him.
• Kitty Princess and bf fight.  A lot.
• Kitty Princess is crying.
• Hysterically.
• Boyfriend is going to break up with her.  Engagement is off.
• Mama Kitty is happy.  Bad Mama Kitty.
• Mama Kitty explains that bf is an ass.  Tells Kitty Princess that even God couldn't get a job at a pharmaceutical company since God doesn't have a four year degree.
• Sometime in the wee hours of the morning (after ruining Christmas Eve) bf decides he still loves her and they don't have to go to California.
• Mama Kitty is not happy again.
• We all go night night.

Dec. 25

• Christmas Day!  Yay!
• Kitty Princess wants to know when she can see boyfriend.
• Fight ensues when she's told that paternal grandparents are coming over and then we have to go to their house for dinner.  No time for bf to come over.
• Kitty Princess pouts.
• Mama Kitty is happy, not about pouting about no bf on Christmas.
• Enjoy Christmas, opening gifts from in-laws, go to dinner to have repeat of sad from niece who is told SHE can't go home with her bf because it's snowing like a bitch and she has to work the next day and boyfriend lives a zillion miles away.
• Decide all females under the age of 25 are systematically insane.
• Come home and Kitty Princess talks to bf rest of night.
• Boyfriend gets mad at her over World of Warcraft and another fight ensues.
• Mama Kitty is tired of the fighting by 1:00 a.m. and leaves the Kitty Princess to go to bed.

Dec. 26

• Kitty Princess works til 9:30
• Kitty Princess gets off work and bf asks where she's been since he KNOWS that her employer closes at 6 p.m. on Sundays.
• Mama Kitty is shellshocked that Kitty Princess didn't go the hell off on bf.
• Apparently bf's best friend worked for two months at GameStop and knows everything there is to know about their practices including holiday hours, amazing since he never worked a holiday hour in his life.
• Mama Kitty isn't asking any more freaking questions cuz her head is going to explode.

Dec. 27

• Kitty Princess has day off.  Spends day on phone with bf playing World of Warcraft.
• Mama Kitty wanted to make cookies and watch movies.
• Other stuff happened that made Mama Kitty not happy.
• Mama Kitty went to bed with monster headache and the very real desire to give the hell up.

Dec. 28

• Blogging is safe.  Mama Kitty shall return to blogging where she can rant and rave and sound like a lunatic about the horrors of bf and having an intelligent, beautiful daughter who is blinded by the thought that love is possible with a good for nothing, worthless, horrible person who doesn't even buy her a gift for Christmas.

And there you have it.  Is it any wonder I can't put more than two words to paper without feeling like my head is going to explode and checking the house to pinpoint the location of every available pointed or sharpened object I own?  Ladies and gentleman, gather round and pray with me that THIS

never, ever, ever, ever, ever happens.  Please and thank you.
***********End of Post***********

And there you have it.  Poetic, if I do say so myself.  Now I'm off to scan for pin-ups to see if she has something to match it, just to try an convince her to put it on.  No doubt, she will tell me she has a headache.  In this case?  Who could blame her?



My Night Before Christmas Ya'll



Twas the Night Before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, except the 18 cats the cat-lady had let in the house.

The stocking were hung, (even the cat's) by the chimney with care,

And even the 18 stupid cats hoped to get something in there.

The child was nestled all snug in her bed,

With visions of her jerk boyfriend having asked her to marry him he said.

And Mamma in her unsexy nightgown and me in my cups,

I had just been over the financials and realized we were stuck.

The reasons he had asked her were perfectly clear,

Despite wanting my child, who I severely hold dear.

He was lazy and stupid, with no money, not even a buck,

This guy has proven to me to be nothing but a shmuck.

When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter,

I grabbed my 9mm and went to see what was the matter.

Away to the door I ran like the Flash,

And opened the door, secretly praying for cash.

The moon on the breast of my wife’s heaving chest,

Gave my eyes the luster of what I was thinking of next.

When what to my wondering eye should appear?

But a miniature sleigh, and 8 tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it was that fat, lying, dirty old St. Nick.

More rapid than the 18 stupid hungry cats, his courses they came,

And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

Now Dancer!, now Dasher!, now Prancer! and Vixen!

On Comet!, on Cupid!, on Donner! And Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

Now Dash away!, Dash away! Dash away all!

As dry leaves (like our money) that before the wild hurricane fly,

As they met with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house top, the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of even more bills and that fat old St. Nick too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,

The crashing and splintering from each fat reindeer hoof.

As I holstered my 9, and was turning around,

Down the chimney that drunken fatty came down.

His eyes, how they were blood-shot, his dimples how merry,

His cheeks were like roses, his nose as red as a cherry,

His droll little mouth was drawn up in a sneer,

And his beard was covered in foam, from a frosty beer.

The stump of a crack pipe he held tight in his yellow teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his almost bald head like a sick wreath.

He had a broad face and a fat round belly,

That shook when he chortled, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and half naked, a right slimy old elf,

And I cringed when I saw him, scarred for life in spite of myself.

A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,

I soon knew this was a reckoning, and had everything to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And found all my hidden cash, slapped the wife on her butt, then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside his fat red nose,

Slammed down some collection bills, then up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

“Hey it may be Christmas, and I took all your cash, but have a good night!”

With anger and quickness, I dashed outside,

I pulled my 9, and pushed my wife to the side.

I was determined to put a stop to all of this madness,

Since him taking my cash had filled me with sadness.

As I sighted and took aim, and prepared to fire,

I finally realized this wasn’t the Christmas Sire.

The look was off, just a disguise I was sure,

It had to be the bank, with no intentions to be pure.

I swallowed heavily, knowing I’d missed my chance,

And I just knew that my checking account had a zero balance.

With no gifts for the wife, or even my child,

I don’ t mind telling you I was quite riled.

I stomped into the house, ready to fight,

Only to discover that my wife had gone to bed for the night.

I picked up the bottle, and gave it a pull,

Then grabbed the hammer and gave a few whacks to my skull.

I was tired, and stressed, with no Christmas this year,

Because no way would we get any help around here.

Our entire situation, made me want to scream or yelp,

If only our mortgage company would agree to help.

But all banks and collectors are filled with greed,

Driving their fancy cars down the road like some prized steed.

They didn’t care who lives they got to ruin,

Despite all the law suites, despite all the suing.

I sat down in my chair, felling lost and lonely,

I even picked up cuddled my child’s old little stuffed pony.

I wanted to sit there, grumble and curse, full of spite,

Then with awe, something came to my sight.

It was our tree, filled with lights and ornaments galore,

And it made me slide, down, all the way to the floor.

It reminded me of quite simply of the entire reason,

What Christmas was for, what was the cause for this season.

A Christ child was born and as a perfect gift was given,

It made my mind change direction, with a new direction I was driven.

So I closed my eyes, and down my cheek slid a tear,

As I prayed for those who burdens were more than they could bear.

So despite all my anger, my frustrations and fear,

I went to bed with a light heart, my mind again clear.

I stopped to look at my wife as she slept,

And just knew in my heart His promises would be kept.

Next year would be different, of this I was certain,

As I looked at the moon, through our home maid curtain.

 I laid down my aching head, to rest my tired mind,

And new all would be well, it would just take a little time.