My Entire Family Is Trying To Kill Me.

In the past I’ve written about my allergies. Specifically my allergies to cats and dogs. Now for those of you that have seen me have a reaction, you know just how bad this can get.


Let me describe it to you.


Fuct. Up. Eye.


That’s right. My eyes, usually an intensely beautiful, striking and enchanting color of blue-turn into swollen masses of boogers and tears. I’m not talking your normal swollen allergy eyes that can be calmed with a touch of visine. Oh, no. We’re talking the WHITES of my eyes swell until it looks like my eyeball will explode into a cloud of brain matter and lashes. I’m not even joking. This is generally followed by sneezing, snotting, asthma symptoms and lots of curse words. I found a picture online, but decided to spare those of you who haven't seen it in real life.


So imagine my surprise when hubs says:


We should get a dog.”


Me: I’m allergic.


Hubs: Yeah, but I think just a small one would be ok.


Me: I’m allergic.


Hubs: Yes, I know this. But if we got a little one, like pure breed-I think you’d be ok.


Me: You knew I was allergic when you married me. Size of the dog could be directly proportionate to the size of my EYEBALL WHEN I REACT TO IT. Still, even a small one would not be ok.


Hubs: Yes, but pure breeds don’t shed.


Me: Yes, they do. And they still have dander-which means I’m still allergic. Besides the fact that we do not have the extra money to purchase a pure bred dog for trial run.


Hubs: Sometimes you can find them for free.

Me: No you can’t. People don’t give away pure breeds for free. Even if I wasn’t allergic, the thought of a dog shitting on my carpet, tearing up my house-can’t have it. Do you know what I’d do to it? I’d kill it. I’d go to jail for animal cruelty.


Hubs: I’m just gonna bring one home someday.



Me: . . .



THEN-two days later my daughter pulls this:



(Let me start this off by saying she just got her first job. She also just received her first paycheck.)



Kid: I want to get a little kitty with my money.




Me: I think there are better things to purchase with your money. You should save some. Also, I’m allergic.




Kid: I want a kitty mom. She could live at Grandma’s! I already asked Grandma and she said it was ok!



Me: [Insert mental cursing in the direction of my mother here] So you are going to spend your first paycheck ever to get a pet that you can’t keep?



Kid: Yes. I already bought a litterbox, litter, food and a poop scoop.



Me: @#($%&@_(#$@_!!!! DUDE! Seriously!?



Kid: Boy (the family name for her craptasic boy friend-Hubs and I can’t stand him—but that’s another blog post) and I are going kitty hunting tomorrow after school. I bought a newspaper.




Me: *eyeroll*



Side note: There’s a kitten closed up in my daughter’s room right now. I WANT to try to allow her to keep it. The kitty is too cute for words, seriously. Conveniently, my mother has not been able to come to our house, as previously agreed, to pick up the little ball of hair and death.

As I type this very blog post, I’m trying not to die. Do you see why it’s hard to dispel the conspiratorial thoughts that course though my brain? My entire family is trying to kill me. I’m sure of it.








EDIT: Blogger, WTF with the formatting crap?! I put spaces where I want them and returns where I need them and you don't seem to agree with me. Why is that?