I'll title this one- The Little Fuckstick

I really like my new job. I think I'm a good fit, and the 8-5 is wonderful. I'm still in training, but most of my day was spent interviewing and conducting other hiring related things. Today I was actually tired when I got home, but I am trying to make a positive impact on the two kids that spend half of their life in the same dwelling as me. Without asking, I went to the store, bought the ingredients for a real dinner and dessert. Regardless it was basically fancy grilled cheese and tomato soup, but I still had to mix cheese together, cut french bread and put cheese and other stuff in the tomato soup. This is more than my usual dinner routine of "why don't we just get taco bell"

So I am the good little girlfriend/domestic partner and make the meal. Who doesn't like grilled cheese? Apparently one little fuckstick. The same fuckstick that doesn't like tomatoes, or tomato soup. The same little fuckstick that ate it last time I made it. The same little fuckstick that would rather eat a microwaved egg than eat a home cooked meal. So, I pull a "mom" and not say a peep, and secretly call the fuckstick a fuckstick in my head with a smile on my face.

I figure, I'll get him with my dessert. Who doesn't love strawberries and whipped cream on a fluffy pillow of golden cake? Guess who? Do I even need to say it? The little rat bastard had his minion (not me, mind you) drive him to WENDY's for a FROSTY. Why waste my time?????? Seriously. What's the point of even trying? SERIOUSLY. Just eat the stupid strawberries and smile to make me happy. I don't care if you have to spit them out later, just humor me.

So- lesson learned today: If I am going to spend time to make food, I am going to only make it for me and not worry about what other people want, until of course I have my own children and love them so much I'd even make them food I don't like. Maybe even allow mayo into the house.