Out of the Mouths of Boobs
The World According To Kiki & J-Fed
It was a wicked, wicked weekend for J-Fed and Kiki, chock full of countless knock-down, drag-out fights that concluded with “I hate you,” and “Don’t ever call me again.” After J-Fed told me not to EVER, EVER call his phone again, I took his words to heart. I laid down a moratorium for phone calls to him. They would cease from this day forward. I had hoped that he would extend the same common courtesy to me, but nah. When my phone rang first thing Monday morning, I realized that I could never be so lucky.
“What are you doing?” he said happily. Why, I’m dropping dead, just like you told me to. No, J-Fed, in all seriousness. I’m working, like I do every Monday through Friday from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. Just as banks have hours, so does Kiki, I thought silently.
In order to avoid another world war, I simply replied “nothing,” since according to him that’s what I do all day.
“I’m coming by to see the baby,” he informed (warns) me. Great, I thought to myself. Let the good times roll. I was sure it will be just another round in Kiki vs. J-Fed, the rematch, remix or whatever the hell you want to call it.
Not 15 minutes later, the Fedster strolled in and immediately picked up from where our last argument left off. After hurling insult after insult at me, J-Fed then insisted that I must go on medication to level out my moods. Forget the fact, that I just had a baby FIVE months ago and that it takes at least a year for those good old hormones to even out. Ignore the fact that he pushed all of my buttons to get a rise out of me, and then looked at me like I’m insane when I finally snap. Mind you, he did all of this ridiculing while licking his chops over a nice big plate of leftover ribs that I prepared the night before.
Now, Kiki would have stopped him from devouring those ribs. But Kiki was well aware of the fact that those ribs were covered in Rosemary and Thyme, two herbs which happen to make J-Fed violently ill. Needless to say, I allowed him to scarf down those ribs at will, realizing that in about an hour he might be the one dropping dead.
After verbally assaulting me and then eating my leftovers, it was my turn to call in a favor. The nanny needed to pick up daughter at school and someone had to watch baby while I did a conference call. It was my own fault for scheduling the call during the one half hour a day when I shouldn’t have, but I figured since J-Fed was there taking up space he could pick up the slack for 20 minutes.
By the way he raised an eyebrow and curled up his lip, one might have thought I had asked him to give me his kidney.
“Come on, do you really need me to stay? She’ll be asleep soon and besides, what would you have done if I weren’t here? I have plans for this afternoon,” he said not-so-tenderly. Baby, of course, was cooing, cawing and giving me the thumbs up that a nap was nowhere in sight. Mentally, I pulled out my bazooka and blasted J-Fed back to his apartment down the street. And then I took the bait, hook, line and sinker…
“What is it that you need to do that can’t wait?” I asked, already knowing whatever he said wasn’t going to sit well with me.
“Well, I need to go to the management office to tell them the cops took away the neighbor again last night. And then I have to go to Comcast to trade in my cable box to get one that has HDTV,” he said.
Ok combined, both errands, which were not a matter of life or death, would probably take 15 minutes and he had precisely four hours to do them. My interview, however, was imperative and had to be done at that particular time. Yet none of this seemed to faze J-Fed. He proceeded to give me some song and dance which I completely tuned out and therefore cannot recite what it was about. But I’m sure it went something like this…
“Blah, blah, blah. I’m busy. Blah, blah, blah. I have plans. Blah, blah, blah. Sorry about your luck. Blah, blah, blah. Call your mother,” More than likely, that about summed it up.
If looks could kill, J-Fed would be six feet deep and rotting like a cold, lifeless corpse. Regardless, my mom Kuku arrived in a matter of minutes. And when she arrived J-Fed was still there. And after my interview, you got it… still there. Yep, it wasn’t until J-Fed decided he was going to go to the car shop and look for a 4-wheeler for daughter that he finally left.
Oh, I guess those “plans” he had weren’t so crucial after all.
UPDATE:. J-Fed never did perform any of the errands because he came down with a horrendous case of heartburn brought on by the ribs buffet. Poor dear.
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