I think it's time for me to invest in a shock collar, just to stop myself from saying stupid things. Of course, that would require a responsible, intelligent person who would be willing to zap me beFORE the idiocy actually came flying out of my mouth, or at least stop me mid flow. Unfortunately, most of the people in my life prefer to sit and watch me self-combust as trickle after trickle of stupidity dribbles from my constantly moving lips...
(Note to self: Shut up once in a while, mmmkay? Or here's a thought: THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK.)
Yesterday, Dan and I had the following conversation. (Please note how long he allowed me to ramble on and onnn and onnnnnn before he actually clued me in on what an idiot I am. Have I ever mentioned he's as asshole? No? Hmmm. I wonder how I let that slide by...)
Me: "So today, when I was driving home from Price Chopper, a CHP followed me clear back to Norwood. Dude was TOTALLY riding my ass."
Me: "Today, coming back from the store... I had a CHP on my ass the whole way back to Norwood."
Dan: "A what?"
Me: "A CHP. You know how I always feel like I'm on the lam and just managing to keep one step ahead of the law? It totally freaks me out when I have a CHP following me. I kept checking my speedometer and wondering if I was going the right speed or if there was a warrant out for me that I don't know about, like if I robbed a bank on Ambien or shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die."
Dan: "What do you mean, CHP?"
Me: "Highway patrol guy. CHP. Duh? I swear if they would just post the damn speed limit like NORMAL states, I wouldn't be so worried all the time. I have no idea if I was speeding or going to slow."
Dan: *automatically, because he's said it so many times* "The speed limit is 55, unless otherwise posted."
Me: "That's dumb. How am I supposed to know that?"
Me: "Anyway, so I started to get really nervous. I'm all thinking, am I speeding? Am I holding up traffic? Is my brake light out? Is my third brake light pissing him off? (My third brake light says BITE ME every time I hit the brakes. Hee hee!) Seriously, I couldn't get him off my tail. I was starting to panic."
Dan: *finally* "Dani, the CHP was not tailing you."
Me: "How do you know? He wouldn't get off my ass!"
Dan: "Because I know for a fact that the CHP was not tailing you."
Me: *getting a little annoyed* "How can you possibly know that "for a fact"? (Yes, I totally did air quotes.) You weren't there! And I didn't SAY he was tailing me, I just SAID he wouldn't get off my ASS!"
Dan: *condescendingly enough to make me want to hurt him* "Dani, I can guarantee that the CHP was not riding your ass."
Me: "Really, DAN? REALLY? You can GUARANTEE that the CHP was not riding my ass? REALLY? And how are you going to do that? Look into your crystal ball and magically see my drive back from Potsdam with a damn CHP officer NOT riding up the back of my car? Hmmm?"
Dan: "State trooper."
Dan: "State TROOPER."
Me: "What are you talking about?"
Dan: "We don't call them CHPs out here. CHPs are ONLY in California. It stands for California Highway Patrol. We call them State Troopers."
Me: "You do?"
Dan: *laughing himself stupid*
Me: "That's dumb."
Dan: "Haaaahahahahahahahahaaaaaa! CHP!! Haaaaahahahahahahahahahaaaa!!!
Me: "I hate you."
Sadly, I can once again reach back into my genetic profile and blame ALL of this on my mother, because I can guarantee that both she AND my sister would have had this exact same conversation with Dan, had they been in the car with me. I don't know if I find that comforting or frightening, but there ya go.
I'm genetically stupid.
Thanks again, MOM.
P.S. I KNOW CHP stands for California Highway Patrol. I really do. Just an FYI.