Car accidents and death are so cute!

I can admit my faults openly.



I am a gentle little butterfly when it comes to most things. I always give money to crackheads holding cardboard signs. I feel sorry for babies in public without pants. When someone has a low credit score, I hold hands and cry with them. I once licked a cafeteria floor from one side to the other for a 7 year-old with cancer. I'm pretty much a disciple of Mother Theresa.



But if Mother Theresa was driving beside me and tried to go faster than me, I would take my baby out of her car seat and throw her out of the driver's side window to hit Mother Theresa in the face and cause her to crash.

Then once she had obliterated her vehicle, hopefully against against something hard and non-pliable, I would find her body in the rubble and pour a rotten drink from my floorboard on her exposed esophagus. Then I would make both of my children say at least 3 bad things about her and 2 of them would have to include curse words. Then we would get back in the car and go home and draw pictures of how much we hate her and what a stupid driver she is.
 
I hope I've made the point that I have serious road issues. It's not even road rage, because the only time I get violent and rabid is when someone tries to pass me. I always let people go ahead of me when they're trying to get over to turn, or when they're stuck trying to get out of a parking lot. I never get annoyed with traffic. But when an ugly mother trucker thinks they deserve to go past me it makes me froth at the mouth.
 
Driving home from dinner at my wonderful in-laws, Adrian and I are talking about how great our life is and how attractive we both are when suddenly I notice a black sedan racing to pass me. The lane that this diseased excuse for a motorist was using to try to pass me ended in approximately 50 feet. I'm not very good measuremently-speaking though, so that may not be accurate. When I speed up to ensure they don't cut me off this asshat wants more! Sir, do you realize I will catapult my 6 year-old at your lungs?
 
I swerve into oncoming traffic rather than let the transportation-challenged individual cause me to slow down. I then swerve back in front him and cause him to slam on his brakes, and hopefully diarrhea himself a little. It is at this moment I notice my new enemy is driving a Mercedes. My husband works at a Mercedes dealership and I immediately know this is one of his superiors as I try to hide my face and find somewhere to turn. Oh shit, Oh shit, Oh shit.
 
"Mama don't say cuss words. Hey! There's Daddy!"
 
I realize this isn't Husband's boss. This is Husband. Husband tried to cut me off. Husband is laughing in my rear view mirror. Husband thinks this incident is whimsical and humorous. Husband is about to get his upper thigh lacerated by my rabies mouth. And NOT in a fun way.
 
He then suffers through my frothy wrath.
 
 

He promises that tomorrow he will "make it up to me".

The next day we are driving home from dinner and Adrian scolds Daddy on how he shouldn't cut Mama off in his car because it made him scared and sad when Mama bit the heads off all of our fish. Husband tells Adrian he will do whatever it takes to make me stop raging. Adrian asks what Daddy can do to make me stop being satanic and I decide he needs to drive home with the windows down, shirtless.

Husband is driving in the middle of upper-class Edmond at 6 o'clock in the evening, with 2 children and a wanna-be trophy wife, in a 2011 Mercedes-Benz with a naked upper-body. It was definitely the most inappropriate and cruel  making-up-to since Tiger Woods allowed Elin to smash his skull with a 9-iron. Adrian was laughing so hard he was completely silent. When he did finally speak he said, "Oh Daddy look, that pretty girl in that car is staring at your muscles!"

And that is when Husband's punishment ended.