In every relationship, there are a few arguments that just never seem to go away. For example, at least once a year, my husband and I fight about a pick-up basketball game we played over 12 years ago. He claims that during the game I got angry, spit water in his face and called him a lousy mothereffer. And I claim that there’s no way I ever did such a horrible, nasty thing, I mean, how could he even think I’d do something like that? (But between you and me, I totally did. Dude kept blocking my outside shot. I had no choice.)
Another of our perennial disputes usually happens right after we’ve gone out to dinner. Walking back to the car, Chris will try to hand me the keys but, 10 times out of 10, I’ll wave him away and say, “Sorry, but I’m just too full to drive right now.”
For some reason he doesn’t believe this excuse, which means we then have to have a long, involved discussion about whether or not the five pieces of pepperoni pizza I just inhaled could actually impair my driving ability. But I mean, really.
After a trip to Krispy Kreme, don’t you think the roads are a lot safer if I’m sprawled in the passenger seat with icing and self-loathing smeared all over my face, rather than behind the wheel trying to merge onto I-35? And God knows how many accidents I might cause if I try to drive home after gorging on wontons at a Super Chinese buffet. With all of that deep fried MSG in my system, I just know a nine car pile-up or high-speed chase or some other terrible road rage incident is bound to happen, and that’s why someone else needs to drive. I’ll just be over here loosening my pants and playing with the stereo if you need me.
Then there’s our other yearly squabble–the one about whether or not we actually saw Natalie and Tootie from The Facts Of Life driving next to us on the 405 freeway in Santa Monica one time. Chris heatedly insists that he’s 100% certain it was them, but I loudly disagree and point out that there’s no way it could have been them because 1) they were in a ’79 Chevy Impala with a naked Latina woman airbrushed on the hood and 2) the one he thought was Natalie was actually a chubby Armenian gentleman with a gold tooth and a comb-over.
But you know, I guess he could be right on this one. After all, the guy in the backseat did look a lot like Ms. Garrett.