Foraging for Pizza, Wish Lists & Comparisons

I got home from work yesterday afternoon to find Big T building a big ass fire in the fireplace down in the love den. He takes pride in his fire building abilities and I respect that. Without his love of fire, I'd freeze my ninnies off.
He'd just got that bad boy blazin' strong when the boy came down stairs to find out what, prey tell, I intended to make for dinner because dammit, he was hungry.

"Why don't you just order pizza??" He asked with actual hope I could detect on his desperate teenage face.


"Oh hell, no. I'm not ordering pizza." I take such joy from raining on his happy parade.

"Fine. I'm goin upstairs." He gets all snappy when i rain on his parade.

"I'll be up in a minute to sling some soup on for ya, pal. Wanna lay the can opener out to expedite the process?" Inside I was gigglin like a school girl.


Eyes all rolled back in his head, "Why don't you ever make anything I like??"

That's all I needed to hear. "Um, who's fault is it we are such a picky eater? Who won't eat anything if it's not chopped, processed, formed and them flash frozen, only to come out of our freezer when you get hunger pains? Who won't eat anything that isn't a breaded piece of fake chicken, pressed and deep fried??"



"God. You are wicked." And off he goes, stomping up the stairs, making enough noise that you would think it was a heard of friggin cattle.

I win.

I smile at Big T, who remained silent throughout the pizza banter. Mmmhmm, he has to come to bed with me, he knows who's side to be on.

"Ya wanna go get a pizza?" I asked. He knew I was just dishing out a load of shit on the boy. That's how I get along with said boy. If I'm not being semi-evil with him, he thinks I'm mad. So, really I'm keeping the peace by being my bitchy self.

"Yah. I'm hungry. I'll tell the boy to come on."

Big T had been seeing commercials for CiCi's Pizza (which makes me gag and spew) and he wanted to go there, as it was on his list of things to do before he dies. *rolls eyes*

It's about 25 minutes to either location of CiCi's in Knoxvegas, so off we went.
We were tooling down the speedway in on a pizza quest at warp speed.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Big T's been on me for months about what do I want from Santa.

Always one to give a good answer, I reply...
"Baby, I got all I could ever want this year already. I have my girls, I have Lil T and now I have you, the boy and a dog. What I want didn't cost anything."

"Whatever. What do you want?? I have everything, but I still always want something. So, just tell me what you want!?!?! I've been listening, I swear to God I have and you haven't said anything or dropped any hints." He's getting frustrated.

"I'll think on it and get back to ya, ASAP." Conversation over.

I really wish he'd just go get me some kind of sentimental, mushy, big ass diamond like they show on the Kay Jeweler commercial, but I'm not gonna tell him that. He'd do it and we'd be broke until Jesus comes back.



Out of the backseat the boy comes up with this, "I think you guys act like Al & Peg Bundy. Well, except you work and don't have flamin red boofy hair."



"Do what? Al & Peg Bundy? Married with Childrens like? Have you lost your goofy teenager mind, boy?" I adjust the rearview to get a good evil look at him eye to eye.

"Well, dad comes home and sits on the couch and just listens to your crap." The boy had an opinion. Nice.

"You're dad does lots of shit around the house. I don't know where you come up with that. Look at the big ass fire blazin'. He's good at makin fires and he doesn't do that from the couch. He's all the time doin somethin to one of the cars and he doesn't do that from the couch."

"Whatever.. I'm right and you know it." He's gloating now.

"Like hell you are. If you're gonna compare us to anybody, I'd say we're more like Dan & Roseanne Conner. I work, I have an opinion about everything and I'm always right. And your dad is always tinkering around with something to look busy, works hard to provide for us, and lets me say and do what the hell ever I want."



Big T chimes in, "Besides, I look more like Dan than I do Al."

I wondered if what the boy was saying is true or not. So, I took a poll within our family. The results are as follows:

4 said we are like Al & Peg.
7 said we are like Dan & Roseanne.

My opinion is that we are some jacked up combination of the two, which is cool. Life will never be boring.



I reckon I should be glad he didn't go and compare us to Homer & Marge.