I decided to take a week or so off from blogging, tweeting, reading…basically the fun things I do just for me, and focus on other crap…like family time and cooking, because it was Thanksgiving and seemed the thing to do. I hate cooking. The family time was good though, except I decided that my husband and I shouldn’t take car rides together. Anymore. Ever.
I filed these little tidbits away for your reading pleasure. I think you will agree with me (it’s my blog, so it’s kinda my rule), hubs and I shouldn’t be allowed to travel together, even to the store. You can agree with that statement without actually taking sides…I’m good like that, always thinking of others. But if you agree with me, then obviously you are always right…like me.
By unspoken agreement, I usually drive when hubs and I travel together, whether short or long distances, it’s just better for all parties involved. Our kids can vouch for this, and anyone else who has suffered the misfortune of being trapped in a vehicle with us. He’s a terrible driver. Let’s just get THAT out-of-the-way. I think it’s best to always trot the elephant right out into the middle of the room. Don’t worry, I have a list of reasons why this is a true statement.
1. He’s a “tailgate” braker. He doesn’t hit the brakes until he is literally up inside the trunk of the car in front of him. I have seatbelt bruises.
2. Wherever he looks is where he steers. For example, if he points to a restaurant on the left-hand side of the road that he wants to try, our car veers to the left. His line of sight is directly tied to his steering hand. It’s terrifying. I usually end up screaming something like “It’s not a drive-thru restaurant honey!!! Eyes on the road!!!”
3. He suffers from an extreme case of road rage. He earned the nickname “Flare” in his younger days, because when he’s angry his nostrils flare out alarmingly and sort of pulse to the vein throbbing in his forehead. It’s a sight to behold. Someday, I’ll videotape him and post it. You won’t know whether to laugh, cry or hide.
4. He doesn’t slow down in school zones. I mean he does…EVENTUALLY. If it’s 8:14 and the school zone ends at 8:15, he figures it’s close enough (EVEN IF THE SCHOOL ZONE LIGHTS ARE STILL FLASHING!) Or he will START to slow down once he passes the white line, even though I’ve explained DOZENS of times that the school zone begins as soon as his front bumper grazes the white line, not when his back bumper crosses the white line by a FOOT! And dear, I know you are sitting there right now yelling at your computer screen as you read this, but WE BOTH KNOW I’M RIGHT! Sorry, I might have some latent hostility issues when it comes to all things driving…and my husband.
5. He doesn’t wear his seatbelt. I mean, he does…EVENTUALLY. You know that annoying beep cars make to remind you to put your seatbelt on? Yeah, imagine listening to that for MILES. And he wonders why I always have a headache…
So, that’s just a few reasons why I usually take the wheel. I didn’t even list ALL the reasons why he’s the WORST driver EVER. Imagine my fury when he backseat drives ME! My favorite is when I reverse out of a parking space and he nearly gets whiplash looking furiously behind us to make sure I don’t hit anything.
Me: “You don’t think I looked before I started backing up? OMG…look at that invisible couple I almost nailed or that invisible car I crushed underneath the my wheels! OMG, I’m pretty sure I just hit an invisible granny! Oh the humanity!”
Husband: “It’s just a habit, get over it.”
Me: “Get over it? No, you get over it, it’s annoying. Like I’m not capable of driving by myself! How many accidents have I been in versus you? Oh, yeah…that’s right, bringing out the big guns.”
Husband: “No wonder Adam Levine doesn’t like you.”
Husband: *evil laugh* “Wait, why are we stopping here?”
Me: “I feel the need to be comforted. With bundt cake.”
Husband: “We are not getting a bundt cake!”
Me: “OMG YES WE ARE! YOU WOUND MY HEART BY SAYING MEAN THINGS ABOUT ADAM, YOU ARE DAMN WELL GONNA BUY BE A BUNDT CAKE, NOW SHUT IT!”
Husband: “OMG, you’re ridiculous!”
Me: “Yeah, well I’ll be ridiculous while I eat my Red Velvet Bundt Cake!”
(Just for the record, he ate most of my bundt cake!)
Me: “I’m too upset to go into the store now. You’ll have to go get our free turkey by yourself.”
Husband: “No, I don’t want to go in by myself!”
Me: “Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you told me Adam hates me.”
Husband: “Come on! I hate using coupons!”
Me: “Wow, you should pick up some cheese with that whine. Maybe next time you’ll be nicer to me. Don’t give me that look, I’m not going in and you can’t make me.”
Husband: *sighs and stomps out of car, slamming door*
Husband tried to use our coupon on a turkey that weighs 14.2 pounds even though the coupon clearly states 12-14 pounds. He had to go back to the counter twice. Karma is a bitch my friend. Adam says hi.
Thanksgiving night, I was bloated and slightly drunk, but mostly bloated, so he had to drive us home from his parent’s house.
Me: “That car in front of us doesn’t have their car lights turned on. What the heck…???”
Me: “Flash the lights at them, that’s so dangerous.”
Husband: “I’m not flashing our lights at them.”
Me: “What? Why, just flash your lights. They are going to cause an accident. Just do it, what’s your problem?”
Husband: “I’m not flashing my lights!”
Me: “FLASH THE LIGHTS! Ok, fine…I’ll do it.”
Husband: “OMG, no stay on your side of the car, I’ll do it! There, HAPPY?”
Me: “OMG what was that? Like a micro-flash? You barely did anything. FLASH AND HONK!”
Husband: “I’m not honking or flashing!”
Me: “DO IT! They are a driving hazard! Seriously, they are going to cause an accident and some family could lose their lives and on Thanksgiving! Do you want that on your conscience!”
Husband: “OK fine! There I flashed my lights!”
Me: “OMG they still aren’t turning on the their lights. OMG they are getting on the highway! Pull up next to them! I’m going to yell at whoever it is!”
Me: “Either flash your lights again, or pull up next to them!”
Husband: “Look, that car is flashing their lights at them and they still haven’t turned them on!”
Me: “Pull up next to them! Wait, nevermind, don’t do that. Stay as far away from them as possible, but keep flashing your lights too! Maybe if we all do it, they will turn on their lights.”
Husband: “If they haven’t turned them on by now, they probably have no plans to turn them on at all! Maybe they don’t work?”
Me: “Don’t work???? It’s a brand new Lexus. What’s wrong with you.”
Husband: “Well, obviously they know by now that their lights aren’t on!”
Me: “I’m taking down their license plate and calling 911.”
Husband: “Do it. Call 911.”
Me: “I can’t see the license plate. No, don’t get closer.”
Husband: “There now we can see it.”
Me: “I’m not calling 911. It’s not an emergency. I’ll end up on Dateline under the headline “stupid people who call 911”.
Me: “Omg, they are taking our exit. We’re all gonna die.”
Husband: “You’re so dramatic.”
Me: *death stare*
Me: “Just focus on not getting into an accident with crazy no-light driver m’kay.”
The driver finally turns the car lights on. As we pass, it’s a teenage girl, and she’s texting. SIGH.
On top of everything else, I’m awake before the ass crack of dawn to begin the laborious task of making my very first Thanksgiving dinner all by myself. I broke out the fully leaded eggnog before 6am. There is no shame in my game. I forgot to buy one of those turkey bag things. I forgot to buy one of those deep aluminum disposable cooking pans. Never fear, I was armed with google, aluminum foil, a baking sheet and a 14lb turkey. I’ve so got this. More eggnog please.
In the middle of trying to remember where I pinned my Thanksgiving recipes (I really need to get my Pinterest organized one of these days!), my husband saunters into the room after his hour-long run and 20 minutes on the crapper (and they say romance is dead).
Husband: “I thought I’d take Raven to the dog park.”
Me (wiping sweat off my brow with stuffing encrusted, gravy coated fingers): “What?”
Husband: “Yeah, there’s a park right up the street.”
Me: “Just take her around the block, there isn’t time to go visit a dog park.”
Husband: “It’s right up the street!”
Me (stares incredulously): “This is all supposed to be ready in about an hour. Just walk her around the block!”
Husband: “It will take the same amount of time to go to the dog park! Besides, she seems to be driving you crazy.”
Then he actually leaves for THE DOG PARK. I LOVE how he cloaks what he wants to do into a favor for me. And I LOVE how his favors for me don’t actually HELP me. At this point, I open the oven and smoke begins billowing out by the bucket loads. I’ve got every kid in the house opening windows, turning on fans, opening doors. I’m pretty sure all neighbors in the immediate vicinity heard me screaming and barking orders. Thanksgiving…bringing families together since the Mayflower…or not. My google inspired foil boat holding my turkey sprung a leak, and the entirety of my Pinterested brown sugar glaze began flowing like lava all over the bottom of my oven. The next kid that walked into the room and said “What’s mom burning now?” was going to be looking for a new home. I somehow manage not to burn the house down, when husband arrives back home and proceeds to complain about his trials at the dog friggin’ park. Are you frickin’ kidding me. Seriously. Kill. Him. Now. His next words better be “How can I help you?”
Anyone wanna guess what his next words to me actually were?
Husband: “What the $@%& is your problem?”
Oh, it’s on like Donkey Kong.
In other Thanksgiving related news:
1. No one in my family other than me likes corn chowder.
2. I forgot vegetables of any kind and no one seemed to miss them.
3. Adam Levine still isn’t following me.
4. I’m afraid to weigh myself. My muffin tops have muffin tops.
5. My husband is alive and well.
6. My kids are alive and well.
7. We took the kids to the movie theater to see “Rise of the Guardians” where I learned to appreciate them more because they are quiet and well-behaved unlike everyone else’s children.
8. We rented the movie “The Campaign”. Raunchy and funny, but mostly raunchy. I dislike the word raunchy, it sounds like something someone old and staunchy would say.
9. Rumchata is my new favorite beverage.
10. I missed the blogosphere and twittersphere. Let us not part so long again my friends.
HAPPY BELATED THANKSGIVING TO YOU ALL!
I’m thankful for each and every one of you that take the time to read my little blog 🙂