Sometimes I think my hubby has been reading my blogs too much.
Case in Point: We're in the car on our way to Chili's for lunch (yum - FAJITAS!) and we pass a VW beetle - one of the new ones with shiny paint and cute daisy hubcaps.
"Aw! I love those cars!" I remark as we zoom past. I notice a guy in a plaid visor at the wheel. "Pansy," I say without thinking - which is something I do often like when I was cut off by a chick clutching a Motorola to her wrinkled ear and totally oblivious to the fact that she only gets one lane - NOT two and I rolled down my window, stuck my head out and waived my tiny fist in the air "DAMN FEMALE DRIVERS!!!"
Harry craned his neck to look behind us at the other vehicle and then rubbed his Jeep steering wheel with his large thumb. I am starting to worry that he and the SRT-8 may be more than just "driving buddies."
"Ya know." he starts off thoughtfully, "I sometimes want to pull up to tiny cars like that, revv my engine and then peel off while it up and pees out its little radiator."
I grin at him and start rummaging through my purse for my never-leave-home-without-it Kate Spade Organizer.
"Whatcha doin'?" he asks.
"Are you kidding me? 'Pees out its little radiator'? That's pure blogging gold right there!" I laugh.
"Perhaps I should have said it differntly," he attempts a backtrack.
"Oh no! No, honey, that was perfect!" Heh heh heh.