realexplodingcat | (no subject)

Today, as we drove through The State Which Would Not End, my in-laws called repeatedly. Each time, my wife would fumble for the phone and crow, "We're going to Disneyland." I could hear her mother say, "Dammit, child, turn your little ass north right now."

Well, that's what I would say.

Anyhow, we managed to arrive here safely, despite my wife saying, "Where the HELL is the road I want? Why didn't my parents TELL me CR 17 takes a jog here? I'm not the one who grew up in this damn county. You would think they'd remember this."

Of course, she made no wrong turns. At all. Naturally. This is the woman who can navigate in my home town better than I (and she always has). Granted, she gets lost in Burlington, NJ, most of the time, but who doesn't get lost trying to find that damn bridge?

Now, on this trip, I have discovered something. My wife never learned her animals. Really, she didn't. Any time we passed anything, she'd low, "Moooooo."

I'd look up and see vultures eating roadkill. The next time, a handful of deer would be grazing on a hill. And the kicker--a field full of asses and ponies. Did she moo when we passed the dairy farms? No, she bleated. She's either misinformed or her neurochemical wiring is short-circuiting again.

Well, we should really be in bed. Tomorrow is going to be a fun day of sitting in fear in the back seat of her parents' minivan as they repeatedly threaten to leave me on some Amish farm to learn how to be a real man. Hah. I've seen those Amish websites. I'm sure I could find a job in someone's computer shed out in the back forty. I'm resourceful.

And tired.