I came home from my job at the mall one weekend to find Hubby and a new friend playing video games. (Keep in mind that I was 18, Hubby 20 at the time, and we had no kids.) I plopped my stuff down in the living room and gave him a hello kiss. He introduced me to his new friend, and I headed to the kitchen to find something to eat and drink.
Let me pause here for a moment. Hubby's friendships have always spawned between him and guys he works with. He always manages to find guys in his squadron with his same weird-ass sense of humor to hang out with- this one was no different. Apparently, it's also a Man Thing to have to impress your friends when you are around your friends and your old lady... which is what Hubby attempted to do this particular day.
As I flung open the refridgerator door, I heard from the living room, "Hey, woman, make me some Kool-Aid!"
Thinking there was a pitcher of Kool-Aid in the fridge (and yes, we were broke when we first got married, so we drank a LOT of Kool-Aid), I reached in to grab it, and to pour Hubby a glass. The fridge had no pitcher of Kool-Aid.
"We don't have any Kool-Aid made," I shouted back.
"I know we don't. Make some," Hubby replied.
Oh hell no. He didn't ask nicely. I popped my head out of the kitchen door.
"Ummm... no. Make your own damn Kool-Aid. I just worked. And, you didn't ask nicely," I stated.
Hubby started smiling- this was his tell. I knew, at this point, his goal was to impress his friend.
"But, you're the woman, and you need to make the man and his friend some Kool-Aid," he stated,
stifling a laugh. His friend looked at the floor, trying to contain his laughter.
"Oh. Now I KNOW I'm not making you any Kool-Aid," I replied back, and ducked back into the kitchen.
That's when Hubby decided to up the ante.
"If you don't make me some Kool-Aid, I'm going to call your mom and tell her you got that tattoo on your ankle," he proudly exclaimed. My eyes widened, my stomach sank to the floor.
Back at that time, the ankle tattoo was only my 2nd tattoo, but I was still 18 years old, and scared of my parents. I hadn't gotten to the point in my life where I embraced tattoos as forms of art (currently sporting somewhere around 30 of them- oh, how things change), and forced my parents to embrace them- and me, covered in them- so, at the time, they were still slightly taboo in my family.
I calmed myself and poked my head back out of the kitchen door. "You wouldn't do that," I told him, completely calling his bluff. He shrugged his shoulders, which I mistakingly took as a sign that he admitted defeat, so I ventured back into the kitchen.
A minute went by, and I heard Hubby talking to who I assumed was his friend. That's when I heard this...
"Yes, ma'am, I'm doing good, how are you? That's good. Oh, no, nothing's really, wrong, I just wanted to inform you that your daughter went and got another tattoo, this time on her ankle. She didn't want to tell you about it, but I thought you should know."
I bolted out of the kitchen yelling, "You asshole!!" then realized that he was calling my bluff, right? I mean, he wouldn't really have called my mom and told her I had gotten a new tattoo, all because I didn't make him a damn pitcher of Kool-Aid, right?
I grabbed the phone from his ear, expecting to hear a dial tone. Instead, I heard my mother on the other end, "What? She got ANOTHER tattoo?"
Son of a bitch, my husband called my mother and ratted me out about getting a tattoo.
I spent a few minutes explaining the whole story to my mother while Hubby and his friend laughed their asses off. Thank goodness my mom has an amazing sense of humor, too, and laughed her ass off after I told her this was all over me not making a pitcher of Kool-Aid. She scolded me for feeling I had to hide my new body art from her, and we said our goodbyes.
I shot Hubby the Look of Death. "I'm definitely not making you Kool-Aid now. You can kiss my ass," I told him.
"Totally worth it," he said, as he got up to make his own pitcher of Kool-Aid, still laughing, and kissed me on my cheek as he passed.