My hubby and I had an argument of sorts the other day. One which I won because he finally called me a dork and walked away. If you quit the battlefield, you might as well wave a white flag and hand me a handwritten note acknowledging the brilliance of my logic.
Besides, I had the unalienable right of DIBS on my side. HIS dibs. Which he can not take back, no matter how much he might wish he could.
What did we argue about? Well ... we started this disagreement years ago over the salient issue of french fries and ended up two days ago agreeing that I get the next new car we buy.
Mind you, he didn't verbally agree to this new car arrangement, but he did quit the battlefield because in the face of my unassailable logic, he could find nothing to say but "dork." Which isn't very insulting, considering the fact that in the future I will be driving this:
I am C.J.'s future sexy car by right of DIBS.
How did we get from french fries to a sexy new Audi? How did my hubby relinquish his right to choose the next new vehicle? Fasten your seat belts, kids. You're about to get schooled in C.J. Logic.
1. My hubby thinks In N Out Burger is sanctified food fit for the angels themselves.
2. He loves In N Out so much, while on our trip to China, we spent our brief layover in Los Angeles LEAVING the airport to go dine at the closest In N Out. AND we had to film the experience.
3. I think In N Out is fine. The shakes are good enough. The burgers are edible. But the fries? Holy cow, the fries are the equivalent of listening to Kenny G, the elevator years, when in the room next door you could be listening to Miles Davis. Live.
4. My hubby thinks the fact that I find In N Out's fries tasteless is a sign of some sort of brain damage. He also calls it blasphemy. And has spent countless minutes trying to talk me out of this opinion.
5. Because explaining to someone WHY they should like a certain food they find disgusting usually does the trick.
6. I've remained steadfast in my resistance to this heathen gospel. A fry should be crisp. A little salty. An tidy little explosion of taste. Not a limp, chewy travesty I could use in a future origami project.
7. If I was any good at origami.
8. For nearly seventeen years of marriage, we've managed to accept these differences of opinion without crossing any lines.
9. But this past Sunday? A line was CROSSED.
10. We have two cars. For years, the mini van has been my vehicle and the Explorer has been my hubby's. But lately, the Explorer has been acting up, and since my hubby has the longer commute, he switched to driving the van.
11. I didn't consider that to be "dibs" and was more than willing to have him replace the Explorer with a car of his choice.
12. But now?
14. Because when I drove the Explorer into the driveway on Sunday, I noticed something on the back of the van. Something I would NEVER have on my vehicle.
15. Something that proclaims love and loyalty.
17. Bumper stickers. Plural. One for the driver's side. One for the passenger's side.
18. Not on HIS car. Noooo. On mine.
20. I marched inside and asked him what in the world he was doing putting In N Out bumper stickers on the van? Only to be informed that he'd also given permission to the teenager to put his guitar brand name bumper stickers on it as well.
22. So, I promptly congratulated him on claiming DIBS on the mini van.
23. He began arguing.
24. I remained steadfast. Slapping your favorite bumper stickers on a car is the equivalent of a dog peeing on every tree in his yard.
25. It's YOURS.
26. Which means, by default, I get the next new car.
27. When I would not be swayed by statements like "But it's just a few stickers." and "But you like their shakes.", my hubby resorted to calling me a dork and leaving the room.
28. Which is fine.
29. I may be a dork, but I'm about to be a dork with an Audi.
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