Why?:Is the ironing board out

Why is this still here?

...ah, Christ.

Jen?

Jen?

Oy, Jen!

Why is the ironing board out?

So what[edit | edit source]

Well, if you were ironing earlier, why didn't you put it away? You had to put the iron back, didn'tcha? Why didn't you put the board back with it? You're lazy, that's why.

Why should I put it back?[edit | edit source]

You were the one ironing. You're always bitching at me to clean up my shit, but I guess that doesn't apply to yourself, now does it?

Snippy? What the fuck is snippy?[edit | edit source]

I'm not getting snippy! You're the one making a big fucking deal out of it. Just come over here and put the goddamn board away, and we're all set. Christ. You're always fucking like this.

Oh, I don't know[edit | edit source]

Between the ironing board, the TV tray, the books, your mother-in-law, and your stupid bitch cat, and your fucking curtains, and the fucking repairs, and the fucking everything needs to be dusted and vacuumed and cleaned and shit...

This looks like a piece of shit.

I'm making sense, dammit[edit | edit source]

Don't you fucking tell me when I'm making sense! You're not making any fucking sense! All I asked was that you get off your ass and put away the fucking laundry basket.

Well, get the laundry basket too[edit | edit source]

I don't give a shit. Get the board and the basket at the same time. Christ, I'm just trying to get this place cleaner! Isn't that what you want, Jen? You're always saying not to leave shit out around the house, and so I'm trying to fucking help, here, but you're being goddamn difficult.

The beer can means Do Not Fucking Disturb, Bitch.

I'll talk however I damn well please[edit | edit source]

I'll raise my voice if I goddamn feel like it! I work eight hours a day to put food on the goddamn table, and all I ask is that you don't fucking bother me when I'm watching my game!

FUCK![edit | edit source]

Fucking look at that shit! I missed a fucking touchdown. Well, you happy Jen? YOU FUCKING HAPPY?

Pack that shit in, wrap that shit up, get that shit out.

Oh, fuck you, bitch[edit | edit source]

Yeah, here's everyone's favorite part. You know what, don't even fucking bother packing all your shit; you got too much of it, and you'll come crawling fucking back. Just leave. Go. Get the fuck out of my house. Oh, boo-fucking-hoo, you crying now? No. Get the fuck out.

I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE.

Bitch.[edit | edit source]

Fucking Rex Grossman can't throw a goddamn reception.

...

Why is the ironing board out?