If I Set My Bra On Fire, Mississippi Would Be Gone By Morning

EDIT: I was going through some old, old saved drafts and came across this one. It made me warm and fuzzy so I thought'd I'd just post it for giggles. Hey! I have a knock knock joke, too. Ok, here goes.

Knock Knock!

Who's there?

Ambien.

Ambien, who?

___________________________________

I feel the need to clarify some things after some of the latest comments I've received. Most notably, these:

"Did it ever occur to you that everything would get well done and on time if you would just stop interfering and get out of the way. Why is it that you women all think you can do everything better than us, when all you really know how to do is complain, ridicule, and belittle. Give him a break and let him do it. You'll be surprised at how skilled he really is if given the chance."

and this one:

"Demolition is the easy part. I will be really impressed if you manage to reinstall the toilet. I await the outcome and will give the approppriate props if you are successful."

and my very favorite:

"Congratulations. You apparently have talents that go beyond the vaginal. I will admit that you are capable of backing up your stand on gender issues. And my sympathy goes out to Chris."

Bob seems to think that I'm some sort of picket sign carrying, brow beating feminist. I was curious who he was and why he suddenly developed some sort of animosity towards me, so I went to his blog to try and glean some insight. From one of his posts, this jumped out at me (in reference to his wife):

"I still have the bad habit of flicking my hand at her when I want to dismiss her and the conversation."

My initial reaction when I first read this was, "Gee. Bob must be a low-brow, club-carrying asshole."

See that up there, Bob? That's me stereotyping you based on something you wrote in your blog and you know what? That's just stupid.

You attempted to get my attention. You got it.

I thought we were playing nice, again, and then you goaded me by belittling (yep. You belittled, Bob) my toilet escapade. In the spirit of fun, I rose to your challenge and put the post up last night with a picture of the now re-installed toilet. For some reason, you chose to throw another jab at me.

So, let me be clear:

My fiance reads this blog. He gets it. He knows that I'm poking fun at him and he's totally cool with that.

I am a good girlfriend, a good friend and a good mother. I do not shout about women's rights. I don't get involved in politics, religion or debates about whether or not gays should marry. You know why? I DON'T FUCKING CARE.

My life is simple. I raise my children and I love my family. I will defer to my husband about things that I am not knowledgeable about and I will forever be outspoken. Chris loves that about me. I will cook for him, clean for him and even put aside my enormous misgivings and have another child - for him. I respect him, admire him, and I very much cherish him.

But if he ever flapped his hand at me in a dismissive gesture, he'd draw back a goddamned nub.

It's all about respect, Bob. Not gender.