Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

What is the Male Form of Cruella?

So my husband is a shit driver. He would dispute that, naturally, and if you are from the state of California you would probably argue with me too. And you are all fucking wrong.

I know that the entire state drives that way. Just because its mob mentality doesn't make it less scary.

He drives really fast. He changes lanes while barely looking. Many many times. God forbid he drive in one lane for more than a mile unless it is the carpool. He wanders from one side of a lane to another--drifting over the line while I grip my seat with white knuckles. Imagine he is a male Cruella Deville with his hair standing on end screaming across the freeway with defenseless puppies in the trunk.

Because if I say one word I am being a bitch.

Interestingly enough, he feels free to call me a bad driver. Even though he is the one with tickets and accidents and shit.

Tickets we can't afford and he swore that he would never get again.

Anyway, this morning he decides that he must get over a lane rather than be behind a bus. Nevermind that there was someone in the lane and we were almost to an intersection. So he speeds up to cut the guy off, almost gets hit by the bus and crashes into the median.

Of course this is not his fault at all. And when I suggest in my least judgemental way EVER that maybe he could more cautious in the future he gives me the glare of death.

Oh I AM SORRY! I didn't realize that it was crazy of me to worry about my safety and your safety and all the money we spent on your fucking car.

I imagine this is one of those fights we will be having our entire marriage.

I am so looking forward to it.

7:26 a.m. :: comment ::
prev :: next