wilbur+ism // #8 what you talkin’ ’bout Willas?

Just in case you haven’t stumbled across my wilbur-isms posts before (here they are), I am married to Wilbur.  The Early Man of the 21st century.  He’s a pretty good bloke, and luckily for him, the sperm he produces are ‘female’, resulting in four daughters. So, he is outnumbered five to one (even the dog has been desexed), and he has the uncanny knack of blurting out some ripper words! It’s my job to document them for years to come AND to let others have a good laugh!

The other day, Wilbur had a brain fart, and stopped thinking. At least – that’s what I think it was.  I was too cross and offended and busy muttering horrible things under my breath as I thumped away from him in anger.

He called me ‘useless’.

Not his smartest move.

Are these the product of uselessness…..?

Mornington peninsula photographer005

I rest my case.

Name calling is horrible, and should only be left as a last resort when you are too tired to think up anything nice to say at all.

Dickhead. 🙂


(I am too tired to think!)

Note – the backstory – the little Ms bedroom light globe had blown, and I was reminded of it every night when I put them to bed sans light.  Who changes a light at bedtime?  Who remembers the next morning?  Not me.  So the light stayed blown.  The backrest back seat of the LandCruiser is hard to get in and out.  I asked Wilbur if he could possibly put it back in for me.  It was then that I was ‘useless’.

Ten minutes after he called me useless he came inside and apologised profusely.  As he should.  Apology or not – I am an elephant, and will not forget.  I also mentioned with a smile that it would make a good blog post and flitted off on my merry way to effectively parent our children by feeding, clothing and loving.

The end.

(another note – I have had a couple of trying days, so am posting whilst slightly emotional and tired – am thinking of taking up eggnog in much the same way as other people take up knitting as a pastime)

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