2005-03-07
Daydream Believer
Sanford and I are responsible citizens. We took our bits and pieces of paper to our accountant so that he may wave his magic wand and do our taxes for us. I don't know what we give him. I know nothing about it except we go to his lair and leave lint and shiny bits of foil and string and pieces of paper for him, and magically we are doing what we are supposed to do in order to not go to prison.
So. Sanford says..."WE gotta take the stuff to the accountant..." only, he says the accountant's NAME...like I KNOW the guy or something.
At the time Sanford decides to tell me this, I am hanging upside down blow drying my hair.
So, I stand up and turn off the dryer and say..."Why do WE have to do that? And who is that guy?" Sanford tells me that it's the accountant and then he acts all sulky and says "WE" don't have to, but it would be NICE if I at least acted like an adult occasionally.
WhatEVer. So, we get into MY vehicle that I love to take the mysterious papers to Accountant guy.
I'm going to admit right here and now that I drive a big ass SUV. I love it. Sue me. I can't help it. I just do. I have 3 kids and 2 dogs and I just love that effin' car/truck/whatever. Now SANford...he drives a little minivan. I used to drive one of those, too. He acts like my car is a Bradley assault vehicle...which you'd think he'd like..but no. He hates it. He is AFRAID of it. He acts like an ass whenever we go anywhere in it and he has to drive, which I'm sorry, but when we go somewhere together, I make him drive...because he's the MAN, dammit!
There are some things in my mind the MAN should do. Driving is one of them, unless he's drunk. That way I can look at stuff and comment.
Anyhow...we take my car to the mystical land of Accounting which is in the next town because OUR podunk hayseed town doesn't have one, I guess.
On the way out of the house, Sanford's keyring breaks...scattering his keys hither and yon. I was already climbing into the passenger seat of my car, and he was screaming:
"GODDAMMIT! SONUVABITCH! PIECASHITNOTHINWORKSRIGHTDAMMIT PIECE OF SHIT! GODDAMMIT!"
This is pretty much his usual running commentary anyhow, so I didn't really pay very much attention when he climbed in the driver's side and continued his rant complete with spittle flying and new expletives that I don't know how to spell.
I was checking my lipstick in the mirror and caught a piece of his flying spit on the side of my face and said, "Jeezus...what the hell....can you please calm the hell down and quit acting like a rabid asshole?!?!"
We had not even completely backed out of our driveway yet, so this was not looking like a promising day. He hollers and carries on about his stupid keyring, which BY THE WAY is a special keyring he HAD TO HAVE, that I had to search HIGH AND LOW FOR so that he could have this very wonderful special keyring that would NEVER break. Well. Hunh. Lookie here. All broken.
I told him, "You oughta just get one of those stupid ugly carbiner thingies you're always trying to find uses for..."
So that is what he did. He practically flew to WalMart to buy one. I waited in the car because I avoid WalMart if at all possible. He came out, tossed the carbiner thingie in my lap and said, "Put my keys on that..but make sure you put the ring on there like this...and ...."
Yeah. Whatever. Drive the car. So...off we go. I'm looking down in my lap trying to put his approximately 5 million keys on this stupid mountain climbing accessory, and I'm saying, "What is THIS key for?" when I realize that we have stopped, but we keep inching forward and jolting to a sudden halt. Inch.STOP.Inch.STOP.Inch.STOP. And Sanford is silent. So I look up and I see that we are in the middle of an intersection in the freakin' parking lot of WalMart. We are nose to effin' nose with a little bitty car and there is a woman driving that car and she is shouting at us, but I couldn't hear her because our windows were up. But she was quite clearly mouthing the words...'YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKER....I WAS HERE FIRST!"
I look over at Sanford. He is sitting there stone still. Staring at her. He keeps inching MY big ass SUV forward and then hitting the brakes.
I say: "LET HER GO, DUMBASS! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? JUST LET HER GO!!! JESUS, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
He says very quietly: "I oughta run this right up her ass..."
to which I reply: "Not MY car, you don't, just quit being an asshole...jeez..."
So, we proceed without further incident to the damned highway to go to the next town to drop off the shit with the accountant, only now we're both pissed off at each other.
I'm still fucking around with HIS stupid ass keys, and he is driving like his ass is on fire. I KNOW if I say something like, "could you please slow down?" he'll slam on the brakes and act like a dickhead and say "YOUWANNADRIVE?!??!HUH? YOUWANNADRIVE CUZIDONWANNADRIVE!" So, I just sit and hope and pray the highway patrol pulls him over AGAIN.
So, we're toodling along fine now, things have calmed down, he has FORGOTTEN all about it all because he is a man, and well...it's over as far as he's concerned. I notice that in front of us is this huge semi carrying this concrete THING..I don't even know what...it looked like a huge highway divider or something. Anyhow, there were like 5 of these semis all in a convoy driving along. And Sanford decides he'll ease in there IN FRONT OF THEIR LITTLE GUY IN THE TRUCK WITH THE FLAGS THAT SAYS "OVERSIZE LOAD" with the flashing lights.
I hear this faint horn honking at us...and up beside me comes this little pickup with flags mounted to the top...I look over and there is this man sorta motioning frantically to me...and his lights on top were flashing..it all looked quite distressing...
I said.."Hey...I think this man wants you to let him in this lane...HEY! He is one of those oversize load truck things..."
So, this little pickup pulls up ahead of in the lane next to me...to you know.....GET BACK WITH HIS CONVOY....
I hear Sanford say...(and I swear to Christ he said this...this was when I knew something was wrong with his hormones..)
"Ohh...AWWWWWW...Hehhh...Ohhh! OH! HE WANTS TO PLAY GAMES, HUH? YEWWANNAPLAYGAMES????" and he was SCREAMING this with like...veins popping out of his forehead....sweat was beading up on his upper lip...
That little pickup truck was valiantly trying to catch his convoy and my husband was acting like Scarface. I swear to God, I sat there with my mouth open staring at him.
Finally, I said "CUT THE SHIT AND LET THE LITTLE HEAVY LOAD MAN IN WITH HIS PEOPLE! HE NEEDS TO BE WITH HIS PEOPLE! YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE! YOU NEED HELP! I'M GONNA CALL THE FREAKIN' COPS!"
That pissed Sanford off bad because Sanford is a cop. Well, a retired cop. But MAN. Come ON. What. the. FUCK?
We exited soon after that, thank God. We pulled up in front of the accountant's new building that we helped pay to build, no doubt...and Sanford calmly takes the stuff inside. I'm sitting there trembling with rage and fear and I don't even KNOW what.
He comes back out WHISTLING through his fucking teeth...he was whistling "Daydream Believer"....
he still doesn't know why I'm upset.
Currently listening:
Daydream Believer
By The Monkees
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