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D/Hate Night

Over the past few weeks I've been booking our trusty babysitter for a few d/hate nights with The Prince. In the past, this hasn't gone over so well. The last "d/hate night" ended up as a foursome -- me and two of his buddies heading off to a Brooklyn birthday party and having a quick drink before we took the 45 minute cab ride home.

Granted I didn't handle myself so well (Hiding my anger isn't one of my best skills), but I couldn't understand how a night planned for dinner and drinks solo ended up as a group activity. At one point I even took a separate subway car from The Prince and his buddy and actually had a great chat with some baggy-jeaned teen playing 'Grand Theft Auto' on his PSP. He showed me how to play it, super nice guy -- very fun. That was about the most attention I got all night.

Last night I informed The Prince that I had a babysitter booked for Saturday night June 3 -- and that baring death of anyone in the IMMEDIATE family, we were going out. He paused and said, ''Absolutely. But remember, I still need to go visit my sister's new baby.'

They say that when anger comes over me it's kind of like that scene in Snow White when the witch turns into the evil hag, all bent and warped with warts and a pointed nose. My nose is small, my skin mostly blemish free. It's not that I want the Prince to snack off a red apple and end up asleep for a billion years. But if there was one that would seep some sense into his brain I'd be willing to find a chemistry kit and start playing.


Jill said…
I find that men like to move about in packs. It's the wolf in them. Try not to fret about it, he's probably no worse than the rest of them.
Kim said…
He needs a smackdown. And not in a good way.
That is all.

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