Grudge match: the pissed off surf widow versus the good wife (guess who won)

That wily vixen beeyotch was in rare form today.

Madame Beeyotch has been elegantly restrained lately except for an errant episode or two. Today, however, she wielded the POWER…

The day started out in an innocuous fashion. We woke up, had coffee–hubs had his portion controlled breakfast of homemade granola and low carb high protein flakes of some sort.

We went to the gym to take a Boot Camp/weight training class. So far, so good. On the way home, we ran a few errands–Trader Joe’s, Target, and stopped to get my glasses adjusted.

Still serene–planets in alignment–all is good. Madame Beeyotch, still restrained, Β is singing a sweet, calming, and repetitive tune in her head.

Then…Captain Dorko decided weΒ he needed to do a surf check. Stupid ocean. Obviously the waves were looking pretty good as evidenced by the grunts and snorts and exhalations of pleasure that emanated from the driver’s side.

Standup Paddleboard

Standup Paddleboard

Hubs just got a standup paddleboard (SUP) and now that there’s no wave small enough to keep him out of the water, he’s gone ALL THE TIME, and right about now it’s kind of getting on my last nerve.

I know what you might be thinking–cut the poor guy some slack; he’s out to sea a lot and he deserves a little r & r. Blah, blah, blah. That’s what I think!

My inner beeyotch can be held back no longer.

lastnervecatI’m thinking of all kinds of painful tortures to inflict upon the surf-obsessed hubs when I realized that he had been talking for quite a while. I only picked up the last part of it.

Him: “… and it’s so cool, I paddled all the way from the power plant past Old Mans and Warm Waters past the jetty to Tamarack. The waves weren’t big, but with that SUP I can have a lot of fun anyway.”

Crickets-Silence-More crlckets.

I’m thinking to myself. He can’t be talking to me. He just couldn’t be sharing all that stupid surf stuff with me.

Him again: “Look” he said, pointing west as we were stopped at a light, “I caught a wave there, and there, and there and…”

lastnerveyourcardPicture this. I’m sitting in the passenger seat. He’s driving. As he’s droning on and on and on AND on about the fun waves he’s been catching every damn day since he got that hateful SUP, I twist all the way around to look in the back seat. I look to the left-I look to the right– I stretch my body as far as it will go and look down with exaggerated movements to see the floor on the back seat.

Him: “What are you doing?”

Me: “I was looking for whoever you were talking to that must give a shit–‘cos I don’t!”
(Whom/who–at that point I didn’t care to be correct.)

Him: {Laughing}Β “You’re really funny, you know that?”

(He honestly thinks I’m funny, he wasn’t kidding.)

Me: “I mean, I heard your lips flapping, waves, blah blah blah—fun, blah, blah, blah– and I thought to myself, he couldn’t possibly be talking to me because he should know that I don’t give a shit about his stupid surfing experiences!”

“You’re lucky I’m so agreeable to all the time you spend playing in the water and ignoring me.”

“But now that you mention it, you’re really getting on my last nerve, so you should prolly think about cutting back on your playtime in the water or I might just have to run up to South Coast Plaza and see what’s new for Spring. Chanel says tweed and feathers are trending right now.”

“Do we understand each other?”

Him: “Are you threatening me with shopping?”

Me: “How perceptive of you. You didn’t need a crystal ball to see where that was going…do we have a deal?”

Him: Arms folded, giving me that look of having tasted defeat…”Where do you want me to install those shelves?. Muttering half to himself as he walks in the garage, “I know when I’ve lost.”

surfwidowHowever, it is now almost 5pm and he ran off to the beach with a surfboard this time for an evening glass off session.

He will pay. Oh yes. He will pay. The beeyotch has spoken. Meow.

So the question remains. Who won? Who lost? Surf widow or nice wife? I think you know the answer…

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31 thoughts on “Grudge match: the pissed off surf widow versus the good wife (guess who won)

    • It’s all part of my strategy, don’t you see? he THINKS he won, but in reality, it was a small victory only to lull him into complacency and then BAM, I’ll get him with something else. (not really, only kidding)

      On Fri, Jan 25, 2013 at 8:38 AM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo

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    • No, it doesn’t matter at all, I don’t really keep score, he loved the post btw, I’m mostly always teasing in my blog. Everyone knows I adore him. There is no winning or losing with us, we’re a pretty tight team. It’s fun to play sometimes, yes?

      On Fri, Jan 25, 2013 at 10:15 AM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo

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  1. Since you seem to like to exercise together (boot camp), why not get a SUP & go with him? Then you can regale him with all your stories while you’re out there? Might take some of the shine off SUP?

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    • What a marvelous idea that would be, except I am not a very good swimmer/can’t see without my glasses or contacts/hate going in the water. I’ve surfed with him a couple of times. he’s a great instructor, very patient, but I just don’t really like it very much. I actually don’t mind his surfing. He knows I’m joking 90% of the time. We like to kid around but I hope never in a mean way. Just teasing.

      On Fri, Jan 25, 2013 at 1:20 PM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo

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      • Back when hubby & I owned a small grocery store together, our new employees used to think we fought a lot. But we don’t we just bicker all the time – it’s OUR form of conversation. The only time we’re really fighting is when it’s really quiet – then you know we’re furious with each other!

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