Can someone, ANYONE, please explain to me how to tame your fuckboy into acting like a normal productive member of society? 

I'd like to start this story off with a disclaimer that the following story which you are about to read has mature adult content which should not be shared with children under 12 (it will scar them emotionally, trust me you don't need this shit kid).

6:42 PM: Door opens. Door Slams. I look over and there are shoes thrown about, dog toys in disarray, dishes piled in the sink, the bed isn't made, a giant fucking bomb went off in my bathroom and sitting in the middle of it, surrounded by his own little cocoon of trash and I don't even know...miscellaneous crumbs? is my boyfriend Jeremy (This is when my eye started twitching).

6:53 PM: So at this point i'm definitely already fucking irritated but by no means am I about to fly off the handle just yet so I calmly just start picking up all the random shit that is laying around everywhere. As I'm passing my way back and forth through the house trying to tidy things up, I just cant help but see him STILL just sitting on the couch doing nothing. *Blood Boils*. Scratch that, he wasn't doing nothing, he was chubby boy at fat camp stuffing his face full of white cheddar cheeze-its. 

7:27 PM: Dishes. (Side note: There is Ramen stuck to everything....do boys not know how to eat anything other than 99 cent noodles? It's like glitter, you can't get rid of it) so I just start doing what I do best and slam pretty much every dish I can find around the kitchen to make a point. ~GET YOUR ASS UP AND DO SOMETHING OR GO AWAY WHERE I CAN'T SEE YOU CAUSE YOUR PRESENCE IS PISSING ME OFF.~

7:41 PM: I'm making the bed and at this point my face must have been so red with rage cause he walked in the bedroom (good one genius) and looked at me like I was a regular Charles Mansion and goes "well if you wanted help with the bed you could have just asked" *QUE THE CANNONS* yeah okay I lost it on him. 

The following events I can say, maybe i'm not proud of, maybe...

I'm literally screaming at the top of my lungs, i'm trowing boxes, there isn't a piece of lose clothing that's safe from getting whip-lashed into his face. Here's the kicker, he still didn't see why I was mad, as he's tossing out the classic *I have a penis so I am too clueless to see the house is messy* excuses "I don't even see what you just cleaned" "Why does that matter nobody is coming over" "I literally don't understand why you're freaking out, it's not even messy in here". I need to ask honestly to the fellow members of the female gender, ARE THEY ALL LIKE THIS? Why do I have to tell him every time I need something done, is it against the male anatomy to just like...do it? 

Anyway if anybody was wondering, I ended up stealing the dogs and driving to a sushi king parking lot where I eventually was saved by my best friends with wine, pizza, and Shania Twain. 

Moral of the story is: I literally have no idea but somebody back me up on this, BOYS ARE FUCKING IRRITATING.