Friday, February 11, 2005

The System for Bickering

So, despite my grouching about the Butcher's lack of economic sense, I really enjoy having him in the house. Unfortunately, even in the best situations, folks are going to aggravate each other. The thing is that you just can't fight with the Butcher. Here's what it's like: Me: Hey, dumbass, you threw your empty beer bottles in my car again and I asked you not to because my car is not your garbage can and what if I got pulled over? The Butcher: . . . Me: I mean it. Don't do it again. The Butcher: . . . Me: Does that mean you won't do it again? The Butcher: . . . Lather, rinse, repeat. I swear, you might as well just fight with the oven for all the response you're going to get. So, I get tired of trying to bicker with him and I suppose he gets tired of hearing it, so I've proposed a new solution where we just assign our usual fights a number and that way we can just call out the appropriate number (or maybe hold up cards with the numbers on them) and spare me the energy it takes to go through it again. Here's what I'm proposing:
  1. Where's the fucking rent?
  2. Where's the money you promised me last week?
  3. You took my car and didn't put any gas in it, jackass.
  4. Your cat threw up in the kitchen.
  5. Your cat peed in the dryer, again.
  6. Dad wants to talk to you and he knows you're using the caller id to avoid him and so he's bugging me at work.
  7. Why is the [pick a strange thing, like "the kitchen" or "the outside of the front door"] covered in [pick a sticky substance, like "honey" or "grape jelly"]?
  8. Take the dog out.
  9. I did it last time, it's your turn.
  10. You're going out again?
  11. Why don't we ever hang out anymore?
  12. Don't smoke on the couch. I fucking mean it.
  13. Come to the [pick an interesting place, like "the park" or "the zoo"] with me. Come on.
  14. Put your garbage in the garbage can, not on the kitchen counter. There's no place in the kitchen from which you cannot reach the garbage can, so no excuses.
  15. Did you buy cookies?
  16. Is your cat tearing up [insert important item here, such as "the phone bill" or "your tax return" or "that man's hat"]?
  17. Don't use my car as your garbage can.
  18. My car is not your used CD bin.
  19. Turn off the computer.
  20. Pick your shit up off the back porch.

Hmm. Actually, listing the twenty things I say over and over to the Butcher has given me a fabulous idea. What if I lined my car in garbage bags, left the windows down, and parked it out back? Would the Butcher find himself unable to resist the urge to throw his kitchen garbage in my car? Would this keep the kitchen cleaner?

I've already decided that, if the Butcher isn't going to clean up the cat food that his cat scarfs down and then throws back up, I'm not going to tell him when the dog eats it and runs upstairs to lick him.


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