Someone Made Me Eat This: Another Fried Night

Tonight's dinner was only slightly better than last night's dinner. The difference was there were 2 things I was willing to eat without being coaxed into it.

Let's start with the plate of cucumbers on the left. Yay! Something not fried. But of course, she's served it with a bowl of garlic doused in salty soy sauce for dipping (just behind it, with the spoon). Sigh. Next to that, you've got chicken on a stick. She didn't make this herself. These come in a big bag in the frozen section at the supermarket. They aren't horrible, but they aren't that good either. Unless you're drunk. She made these for us on Monday and Jeremy had let her know then that he wasn't all that thrilled with it. Plus, she'd made enough for the entire Chinese army. He made her take home the excess and only allowed her to leave 6 of them.

When Jeremy saw them again today, I heard him complain to her that these are poor quality and he wasn't happy to see them again. I hope she never serves this crappy chicken on a stick again either but as lowgrade as it is, it's way better than most of her cooking.

Except the fried shrimp, to the right of the chicken. That shit's good. It's just fried.

Then there's that crappy fried, greasy pancake from last night. This isn't leftover from last night either. She just felt the need to make it once more. And what do we have next to the pancakes from my nightmares? I have no earthly idea. I conveniently ignored it. It smelled like a wet dog and it looks greasy and gross to boot. For once, my husband didn't insist I eat it or even try it. He's hanging his tail in shame once more today because he lost his Samsung phone. I swear, every summer, there is some shit like this. Remember the watch incident? Ugh. I hate when he loses things. This time, he wasn't drinking though. He was just working. I blame that Y chromosome again. And maybe the heat of summer helps trigger something with that damn chromosome too. Why can't he lose MIL somewhere instead? That would be fanfuckingtastic. He could replace her with someone who can actually cook Chinese food and not cause me to despise an entire country's cuisine. Now there's a thought!

Oh, and let's not forget the xifan! This is my stock photo of xifan. I'm sick of photographing it. It looks like the same murky shit every single day. She rarely if ever makes a different variety. Though unlike the xifan in this picture, she didn't add enough water so it was goopy and gloppy. Urgh.

If you would like to see more of Someone Made Me Eat This, click here. Will tomorrow's meal feature the same chicken on a stick crap? Or more fried funness? Get your TUMS ready and stay tuned!

The Y Chromosome Strikes Again!

Yesterday, my husband had a business dinner meeting and I wound up having a pleasant meal with MIL. I KNOW! After she left, I got Raelynn ready for bed and then set off to relax and shower. At around 9:30pm, when Raelynn was sound asleep, I heard the key in the door. I went to greet my husband and what I found was a totally drunken mess loping through the door, dress shirt unbuttoned under his suit jacket, brandishing an umbrella like a tiki torch as he boisterously greeted me.

I sighed heavily, knowing the rest of my night was going to severely suck. I should tell you though that it's not often that Jeremy drinks like this. It's part of the culture in both Korea and China to drink while you eat at a business dinner and it can be considered quite rude to refuse a drink. So if you want your business to go well, genbei as they say here (which is Chinese for "cheers" and basically means you should drain your entire glass in one gulp).

Jeremy's college experience was different than mine. During those years of my life, I eventually learned how to handle my booze. Once, on a date with a guy I really liked, I had eaten a bowl of Chunky New England Clam Chowder so I wouldn't be hungry when we went out drinking and dancing at a club. FYI: the upchuck factor on soup is a 20 on a scale of 1-10. But being young and dumb I didn't know this and hence, made quite the ass out of myself. I've come a long way since then.

So my husband can't drink the way I can. Well, the way that I can when I'm not pregnant that is. At least he was smart enough not to drive. He took a taxi home which was a relief. I was so happy he came home alive. Now, my challenge was to make sure he stayed that way.

See, Jeremy is a back sleeper. He LOVES to sleep on his back. I'm more a side sleeper, which is good news for me while pregnant because after the 1st trimester, you can't sleep on your back anymore. My husband snores so loudly that I need earplugs in order to block out the sound. And some nights, I can STILL hear him snoring away.

I tried to get him to drink some water and some green tea but he passed out cold on our bed. On his back. And soon, I heard this horrible gurgling. He was going to puke. I dragged him to the bathroom and tried hurrying away before the sounds of splattering vomit caused me to join in. He staggered out, like some half-dead zombie and curled up on the floor. I brought a bucket from the bathroom, normally used for laundry purposes, to put beside him. He snored away on his side for a few minutes and then sprang up gagging. He ran toward me and tried to open the window to barf out there. Drunk people! Gah! I quickly locked all our windows, now terrified he'd lean out of them to far and fall to his death.

In college, one of my best friends was a girl named Tara (may she rest in peace) who would drink herself into oblivion constantly. One night, she actually walked outside of our townhouse and tried to open the door of someone's Cadillac because she thought it was the bathroom. It was funny then.

But now, this kind of shit isn't funny, I think as I pat his back while he hurls some more. It's then I'm reminded of my wedding vows and try as hard as I can to be supportive and helpful, even though I am tired and, being pregnant, seriously want to throw up myself from the stench of vomitty-alcohol permeating our room.

In total, I emptied out the laundry bucket 5 times. Despite placing it in front of him, he still spit up a bit on the floor. He even threw up on a sock (it was his sock at least). At one point, he lay on his back and started to choke on the vomit and I cannot even believe I was able to move so quickly and roll him onto his side. I sat up much of the night, watching, helping, praying. And once I was sure he was not going to die from falling out a window or choking on his puke, I finally put in my earplugs.

Since our bathroom is right by Raelynn's room, she woke up to the retching sounds and cried, scared of the monster-like noises she heard. So now, I had her in our bed, snuggled right up to me, and a totally zonked out, husband that reeked of boozey, barfy disgustingness. I was so angry and so tired. Somehow, I managed to get some sleep but I still felt like hell today. In the morning light, lectured my husband and then gave him some ideas on how he could make this all up to me. Jewelry. A nice dinner. A massage. He'll be working this debt off for a bit, which I blame on that y chromosome. You remember what happened the last time, right? Sigh. Men! Between you and me though, as long as he never pulls this shit again, that'll be even better than diamond earrings. Though I'll still take him up on a fancy meal. This mama needs some spoilin'!

The Y Chromosome Theory

This post is dedicated to my wonderful friend, Nancy, who had recently remarked, after she'd read my post about my husband injuring his ankle and acting like a world-class brat, that she believed it was the y chromosome that caused men - her own husband included - to do stupid things.  Stupid things that no woman would ever do. I think Nancy is absolutely on to something with this theory of hers. Especially after the other night.

My husband's former soccer coach is in town visiting. So of course, we had to go out to dinner with him and his family. And all of my husband's soccer friends who live in town here came too. The soccer coach has a lovely wife and they are one of the few Chinese families I've ever met to have 2 children. They have a little girl who is about 6 and a little boy who is Raelynn's age. The boy, as are most little Chinese boys, was a little bit of a trouble-maker. Raelynn initially kept running to me and throwing her arms around me. "What's wrong, sweetie?" I asked her. "BOY!" she shouted, pointing at him and crying. Poor Raelynn. I didn't have the heart to tell her that they will just make you scream and cry all the more the older you get. That's a conversation for later, of course.

We were able to get the boy to play as nicely as his sister was playing and the children had fun while us adults ate and drank. I didn't eat very much - it was mostly Chinese dishes that I didn't care for - but drank quite a bit. My husband said he hadn't had time for lunch during work that day. Despite my being a bit tipsy, I was still level-headed. Why? Because I'm watching my kid. I'm making sure she doesn't run out the door, choke on a bottle cap, pick up someone's discarded cigarette butts from the floor, break things and everything else all you other moms reading this are surely nodding about as you silently go down the list of things you check for when you are out some place with your toddler.

Even though I had a lot to drink, I noticed my husband was the picture of pure drunkeness. I know, I know. He was having fun with his friends. And so was I. They were fun! But Jeremy can't handle his booze like I can. I don't know why. What I do know though is that all that beer and that y chromosome of his soon were the downfall of his evening.

It was getting late so I decided to take Raelynn home. One of the other wives did not drink and offered to give us a lift. She took us to the hotel where the visiting family was staying. I was confused by this initially, but welcomed it as a good chance to use the bathroom again before I flailed my arms at passing taxis. When I came outside, all the husbands, including mine, were outside. And my husband was SMOKING! I couldn't believe it. He used to holler at me for smoking in Korea. And there he is like the Marlboro Man. I forgave it though...if I didn't have Raelynn with me I might cave in a drunken moment like that. Besides, he did flag me down a taxi, however he almost walked right into it when it was departing. And thus, the y chromosome begins to do its' thing.

I get home and put Raelynn to bed. Then I get myself ready for bed. But I can't really fall asleep. Because I am worried about my sweet husband and can't fully sleep until he gets home. This, dear men, is the opposite of your y chromosome.

I dozed off for about 10 minutes and then I hear our doorbell. I jump out of bed, realizing that Jeremy didn't have his house keys. What I find standing in front of me is my husband in his boxers, carrying his shirt and pants.

"What's going on?!? Why are you in your underwear?!?" I demand. But he pushes past me angrily and I realize that I'm not going to get an answer right then. Not unless I want him to yell loudly enough to wake Raelynn.

So what did happen? My husband and his y chromosome banged on the window of one of the first floor apartments because the stupid call box by the building entry was broken AGAIN. An old guy who didn't recognize my husband as a resident of this building came out, ripped his shirt and tried to choke him. Yes, really! How the pants came off in that is a mystery but I think Jeremy probably went for his belt. Somehow during this kerfuffle, Jeremy lost his watch. The splendid, very nice watch I bought him for his birthday when I was in Singapore just 4 months before Raelynn was born.

To top it all off, he voraciously vomited in our bathroom and managed to clog and overfill the sink. At least he cleaned it all up, though I did my own cleaning of it in the morning, complete with buttloads of cleansers to get that disgusting feeling of ickiness the bathroom seemed to encompass after this evening. 

I have to admit, I was really angry with him for all of this. From his idiotic drunken behavior to his ripped shirt and from his grumpy attitude toward me of all people to his losing of this somewhat pricey watch. And let's not forget how he defiled our poor bathroom! It was indeed that y chromosome in full effect. How men are ever put in charge of countries and companies is a mystery to me!

But something happened. Jeremy felt horrible. He was so sad the next day, I couldn't berate him. He was punishing himself enough. And then I realized how lucky I was - that crazy old guy on the first floor could have stabbed my poor drunk husband to death. I'm so glad he didn't. He shouldn't have attacked my husband, but in the old man's defense, my husband said he'd never seen that guy before. So if this guy never met my husband and here he is, all drunk at midnight pounding on the windows, I can't say I blame him for going after him. Suck as it did for my husband to lose such a lovely item, it could have been much worse.

I realize now that this isn't Jeremy's fault. I put the blame squarely on that reckless y chromosome of his. And it owes me one very nice man's watch.