is this thing on?

I've discussed the way me and the husband argue. 

We argue over things that are so infuriatingly stupid that I swear we get angrier than those who fight about things that actually matter because what we're fighting about is just so stupid.

I bought the husband a Big Green Egg for Christmas (cue Best Wife Ever cheer & applause).  He's so happy, he's glowing, and it truly makes my heart happy to make him so happy - giving is so much more fun than receiving - especially when you buy yourself little gifts while shopping for others. 

Little did I know that I was creating a bit of a monster....(actually, I take that back...anyone could see that he was becoming obsessed). 

I digress...

The husband is the cook at our house.  I always say he wasn't being properly fed by me, so he had to improvise.  He comes by it honestly - domesticity runs in his family.  Turns out, we're the perfect match because it doesn't run in mine.  So, I purchased him a cookbook called Southern Plate.  He picked it out when we were in Florida, and I stumbled across it at Sam's.  Since the arrival of the cookbook, we've been eating good.  He makes this fried chicken with "come back sauce."  The chicken is breaded in saltine crackers and fried like normal - they say the saltines make it less fatty (or maybe he just told me that).  Either way, he's created a monster in me by cooking that meal.  A Fried Chicken Monster.  I pretty much crave the chicken and the "come back sauce" weekly. 

I specifically bought a giant pack of chicken tenders for him to fry up.  Yesterday, while I was working from home, the craving hit like a ton of bricks.  It's cold outside - give me something fatty and yummy to eat for dinner.  My spare tire isn't quite big enough yet.  When he came home, we had this exchange...

me: 

I'm thawing this big pack of chicken tenders and thought maybe you could fry up that chicken and we can make some "come back sauce."

husband:

 [sleepily]  yaaaaaaaaaaa-unghhhh

The noise that came out of him while I suggested we have the fried chicken so closely resembled a "yes" that I thought we were clear on the fact that I. Want. Fried. Chicken. For. Dinner. Damnit.

So, I left him to rest.  I gave him strict instructions to call me if my work computer started making the incoming email noise often enough to require my return.  So, he calls me when I'm leaving Target.  All of my Christmas Spirit has been stolen by the shitty cart I'm pushing and the masses of slow ass people wandering through Target, clearly just beginning their Christmas shopping.  Phone conversation plays out as follows:

me:

 yup?

husband: 

you told me to call you if your computer started acting crazy.  Smoke was coming out of the sides, so I threw it in the bathtub to cool it off.

me: 

oh - very funny.  chuckle chuckle

(sneer - my chicken better be in the fryer)

husband: 

 so, what do you want for dinner?

me:

  oh, well, I was thinking we could make the fried chicken...unless you'd rather go grab something.

(the only thing that will make this okay is if he suggests Mexican)

husband: 

oh, well, I was thinking of cooking them on the egg.  I've already started marinating them.

me: 

oh?

husband: 

is that not okay?

me: 

um.....well, I mean......no, it's fine.

(okay, I'm secretly angry)

husband: 

okay, when will you be home? 

me: 

I don't know.  I'm out in this shit, and I still need to go to Kroger

I was seething from anger about the fact that he MARINATED the chicken tenders I purchased SPECIFICALLY for my favorite fried chicken.  If he didn't want to make the chicken, he should have made a noise that resembled more of a "no" than a "yes."  Not cool.

I drive to the grocery store - PISSED - so I send a BBM....

me: 

if you don't mind, don't cook all of the tenders.  I purchased it specifically for the fried chicken because it's delicious leftover

(in my mind - grilled chicken gets hard and gross the next day and THAT'S why I don't eat leftovers)

husband: 

 Well, I've already marinated all of it.  Apparently I've really effed up - you clearly wanted the fried chicken.

me: 

Well, yeah.  We agreed on it.

husband: 

when did we agree on it?  You said last week that you wished I wouldn't cook it so much because of the calories!

Here's where his "selective hearing" kicks in. 

First of all, when I said he needed to lay off cooking the fried chicken tenders, I was stuffing one in my mouth while simultaneously dipping the next one in "come back sauce."  Lay off cooking the chicken means "only cook the chicken when I request it."  Duh.  It also means "awww...sweetheart, you shouldn't have, but I'm so glad you did...nom nom nom nom nommmmm." 

Also, he AGREED that family time over preparing "come back sauce" sounded great...that's what "yaaaaaaaaaaa-unghhhh" means. 

So, we proceeded to send snippy BBMs back and forth until my Blackberry died - which pissed him off even more because, turns out, he thought I turned my phone off.

I came home to this grilled-ass chicken, and yeah, it was good.  I had it over a SALAD since I was so rudely reminded of my caloric intake. 

And we proceeded to not speak to each other for the majority of the evening.  I mean, things are good now.  It's Christmas Eve!  But seriously?  I think someone here learned a lesson yesterday...

WHEN THE CRANKY WOMAN SAYS SHE WANTS EFFING FRIED CHICKEN, YOU MAKE EFFING FRIED CHICKEN.  THE EGG WILL ALWAYS BE THERE, YOU MAY NOT AFTER THE WOMAN GOES BATSHIT CRAZY ON YOUR ASS. 

Merry Christmas.