Just like a brontosaurus

3 Apr

I had a couple of really good ideas for posts for today…but I forgot them. I’m completely exhausted and apparently I’ve developed amnesia, or my brain is just broken. Hard to tell. Could have something to do with the fact that I got literally 2 hours of sleep last night. I’ve been a funk lately, the whole economy thing finally hit my job. We got news that the there was a good possibility that 45 positions (including mine) would be eliminated. Fortunately, that isn’t going to happen, but I didn’t find that out until this morning at about 6 a.m. (BIG sigh of relief). Ever since I heard that, I could lose my job, I’ve been kinda moping around, just not myself at all. Not sleeping really well, being all zoned out, just all depressed-like. So last night, I said to Chris, so I think I know what my problem is.

Chris: Oh yeah? What’s that?

Me: I think I’m depressed.

Chris: Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve kind of reminded me of a brontosaurus, all moping around with no place to go.

Me: Did you just call me a brontosaurus? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Are you saying I’m fat like a fucking DINOSAUR?

Chris: No, no. Not at all. You know how a brontosaurus just kinda lumbers around aimlessly?

He then shows me how a brontosaurus “lumbers around aimlessly”. Walking around the kitchen like arms and legs don’t bend with this ridiculous big-eyed sad face. Wow. I was speechless. Did my husband seriously just call me a fucking brontosaurus? Nice. I “lumber around aimlessly”? Yeah, let’s see if I can imitate any other dinosaurs. Maybe a raptor or something so I can rip your head off if you ever say anything so retarded again. So I kind of brushed it off (the imitation was kinda funny) and we went to bed. I start trying to talk to him, I’m feeling that maybe I have been in funk, and maybe just need to get it off my chest. I’m being totally open and vulnerable, baring my soul, when all of a sudden I hear a familiar sound…snoring. Yes folks, my wonderful and adoring husband fell asleep while I was talking. A minor faux-pas (which he was still very sorry for at 3:30 this morning when I finally decided he was sorry enough for being insensitive and could go to sleep to get ready for work at 5:30), no?

So apparently if you have husband who will compare you to a brontasaurus or fall asleep while you’re talking, screw baring your soul and discussing feelings. Pout and tell him jewelry will make you feel better. Granted you run the risk of not having ample guilt ammo stored up (I have tons and tons), but you also won’t be called a fucking dinosaur.

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