Friday morning vent

I swear, I think Sweetie had PMS last night. (Disclaimer: He's spent the past four days coming home to work on a very frustrating home improvement job, so I understand he's probably beyond wiped out. Still....)

Okay, so anyway. He calls me at like 6:30 saying he's on his way, and we talk about dinner. I say I am tired and have little food in the apt. since we are away this weekend, so let's just go to this little spot around the corner and grab a quick bite. He agrees. We hang up and I go get ready while he drives over.

He comes in, flops down and says, "Do you really want to go out?" Yes, in fact, I do, unless you want Ellio's pizza or cup o' soup. Work sucks, I've spent this week unpacking, doing laundry, cooking, repacking, and my mom and dad are on their way to euthanize my cat as we speak. I believe I could stand a burger and a beer, okay?

After much hemming and hawing, he agrees to go to TGI Fridays. It's not the nice little spot around the corner, but okay. Fine. By this point, I don't care. We get there, I see the girlfriend of a past hookup (Hello, Awkward Moment, nice to meet you!) and we sit down. I say I might order a chicken quesadilla, since I am not up for a whole entree. He replies, "eew, those are nasty." Well, thanks, penis, I so want to eat something you think is [insert grossed out face] nasty.

So I order shrimp. We eat. We go home and watch TV. When it's time to go to bed, he curls his arm around me, and I reach up and put my hand on his. He literally snaps at me, "Don't grab my hand like that. I have a cut there." Like I knew. Thanks. Thanks for snapping at me just before I go to sleep.

Ugh. If I didn't love him, I'd be truly pissed at his pissiness. As it stands, I am annoyed. I suppose we are all entitled to it now and again.

/Vent.