How To Drive Like A Virginian

An entire fucking year ago I shat a post about the joys of living in Virginia.  Another blogger asked about the state slogan, ‘Virginia is for lovers.’  I say: bullfuckingshit.  Lovers might be here, but they’re obviously

Getting From A To B

I am guessing that most of us, when we were small humans, heard one or both of our parents tell us this: “Be careful what you wish for.”  In truth, I did hear “Hold out your hands, wish into one, shit in the other, and tell me which fills up first,” far more often, but I was cautioned to beware my

Driving, Kabul-Style

In under one month, I’ve managed to accomplish something pretty cool. It took some time, and took a little guts, too. However, I managed to finally get my

Rant: Stupid Drivers

With the road trip I described recently, I had the thrill of experiencing the worst instances of driving this country has to offer. Most of this rant will focus on highway driving because of this. Believe it or not, I tend to

Hitting The Road

So what does the Rants Army need to know today? I have no idea, but today’s post will be more of a PSA to you all than an actual post, so excuse the rambling nature of this. I figured I’d warn you all that there may be intermittent

My Wife’s Feisty Day

Well, my wife is apparently on the mend quite well since she’s regaining her feistiness.  I had to share the love from today, which has been almost non-stop:

Walking into the room while she was watching Hoda and Kathie Lee ooh and aah over some fattening hot mess that included lobster…

• DI: “Oh, lobster is my absolute favorite.  But its expensive.”
• ME: “I thought I was your favorite.”
• DI: “You’re my favorite, babe.”
• ME: “But I’m cheaper than lobster…”

Driving around town to get more shit-sand for our two hairy shit factories (cats)…

• DI: “Watch it.  This is a 30 zone.  You’re going 31.”
• ———– driving…
• DI: “Bump! Watch it! Jesus!”
• ———– more driving…
• DI: “LOOK OUT HE’S TURNING!”
• ME: “Sweetness, please don’t think for a second that your current handicapped condition won’t stop me from slapping you up.”
• DI: [calmly] “F you.”
• ME: “Right.”

Coming in the front gate to our installation, on the way home with a stop at the Class Six (English: convenience store with liquor and smokes)…

• ME: “Okay, babe, so smokes and beer… anything else?  What do you need?”
• DI: “Oh f-it.  I didn’t shit myself silly or anything this morning, so get me a tiny vodka.”
• ME: [almost wrecks car into armed guard while laughing]

You can’t make this shit up, and we probably ought to sell tickets for it.