Mark woke this morning determined that we were going to take a road trip. Go touch some nature. Walk in some water. Throw some rocks. Climb some hills and enjoy the view. Drive.
Mark was all cheerful.
The rest of us stared at him crankily. We did not feel inclined to touch nature. We did not feel inclined to get up off of the couch.
But Mark can be bossy. So we roused ourselves.
Nature . . . yay!
Sigh.
We decide to take the smaller stupid dog along with us. Jack the Terrier.
Actually? I decide to take the smaller stupid dog along with us. I figure if Mark is going to force me to spend my day in the car? I will bring along a little entertainment of the “driving my husband crazy” sort.
What can I say? I am slightly passive-aggressive that way.
So we all climb into the car, and within 10 seconds? Jack has found an abandoned piece of gum that Kallan had wrapped up in a tissue. He rips it apart and gets the still sticky gum stuck to both of his front paws. He is hysterical with joy, the girls are screaming, I am trying to catch the bounding gum-footed dog, and gum strings are being trailed all over the back of the minivan.
I told you that dog was fun.
We’re not even out of the driveway and Mark is annoyed.
Yay!
Ahem.
So Mark pulls out of the driveway, but not before carefully placing his Guidebook to Oregon, his iPhone, his wallet, and his glasses in the center console.
And then he says to me, “Keep the dog out of my stuff, OK?”
“Sure, babe.”
I pick as much gum as I can off of the squirming kicking dog and release him. Jack immediately dives to the ground and scoots beneath the center console. He hits the release latch with his body as he goes, causing the center console to fall down and sideways to make an aisle between our front seats. All of Mark’s possessions spill to the floor.
Snort!
Love that dog!
I pick up Mark’s belongings and promise that I will keep a closer eye on the dog.
We’re off!
And then Mark says, “We should probably get the oil changed first.”
Are . . . you . . . fucking . . . kidding . . . me?
So off to the oil-change place we go.
Sigh.
We decide, because we are on our way to touch nature? That we have built up momentum, baby! We will just sit in the car as they change the oil. Don’t want to mess with our momentum! We are on our way to touch nature!
Yay!
And then there is screaming of the Maj-ish sort as she realizes that Daddy is indeed going to drive the car over an enormous pit while SHE IS IN THE CAR!
The employees?
Think Maj is hilarious.
In the car? Our ears are ringing.
Yay!
Part of the oil-change package involves the cleaning of all the exterior windows.
Have I mentioned before that Jack the terrier has issues with cleaning products? And by issues, I mean he attacks like a demon from hell if he sees a spray bottle of any sort?
And squeegees? Squeegees are his mortal enemy.
So as the nice man starts to spray our front windshield? Jack goes completely fucking insane. He throws himself up onto the front dashboard in a frenzy of slobbering terrier rage and tries to eat his way through the glass to the spray bottle on the other side. He tracks and attacks the swipes of the squeegee with head-smashing thuds of small-dog stupidity and determination.
So now our front windshield is clean. On the outside.
The inside? Is coated in slimy dog spit.
And the man cleaning our windows? Is laughing so hard he is having trouble pressing down with the squeegee. He calls to the other employees so they can see the show.
In the car? We are all laughing hysterically.
As the rest of the windows are cleaned? I hold Jack by his harness as he flips and snarls and lunges in the air. Such a stupid fucking dog.
So funny.
And then the windows are done. And Jack bounces on my lap . . . this is like the best dog park ever! He is so happy.
They finish changing the oil.
And one of the employees asks if we would like to have the interior of our car vacuumed.
The only thing in this world Jack hates more than spray bottles and squeegees?
Is the vacuum.
So . . . no. No vacuuming for us.
Just the thought of Jack hanging from the huge vacuum, all ripping and vicious and filled with murderous terrier rage?
Has us all giggling.
So we drive away with dirty carpets, a slobber-filled view, and brand new oil.
We’re on our way, now!
We’ve got momentum, baby!
Yay!
Plus also?
Mark is like a genius. Turns out that touching nature? Walking in some water? Throwing some rocks? Climbing some hills and enjoying the view?
Was exactly what we needed.
Yes, Mark is all geniusy.
Although I did think to bring the dog.
Snort!
So.
Bataan Death March much?
Marriage is so lovely.
And family?
Family is awesome.
Snort!
This was just what I needed tonight. I actually laughed out loud. That never happens. OK it happens VERY rarely.
Thanks Kris, I had a good time reading.
I wish you had added a video of some sort to your post. I would have paid to see that scene!
I don’t do videos, but I’m glad I could paint you a word picture.
Thanks, you.
damn nigel.
i so wanted to be first.
shithead.
otherwise? sounds like you had an awesomely passive-agressive day.
Shouldn’t you be too busy getting ready to devour your husband to be spending time on the internets?
Also?
Hah! Firsties!
nigel?
the hubs is a guy.
so do you think that after the devouring?
he is awake enough to keep me off the internets?
away from dodgy, snarky men?
ha!
Also?
fuck you firstie!!!
Speaking as a man, we do not always fall asleep right after the devouring. Sometimes we wait a few minutes to make sure that you are done doing that thing you do with your tongue that we all like.
This is when we sleep the sleep of the innocent and higher-salaried.
Also?
Up yours, thirdsie!
nigel?
the hubs? is so exhausted and wrung out by the time i’m finished with him? he can barely roll over to put the b.o.b. away.
my tongue? does what it needs to do til the hubs can’t even move.
higher-salaried? yes. innocent? bwahahaha
also?
bite me firstie!
also? i’m tied for second.
third? is for losers…
OK, you two?
Are running amuck.
Carry on.
i have to leave now.
my professional football husband?
brett favre?
is now playing to win.
although? he doesn’t even need to win.
he already has all my adoration – what more could he need?
And you?
You are Morgan Fairchild!
Yeah! That’s the ticket.
This?
Made me laugh in a nostaglic 80′s Jon Lovitz kind of way.
You, Rene?
Are lovely.
That is all.
You are not the only one with a tongue that has its own patented yoga positions, young lady.
Now don’t bother me with seconds and thirds. I don’t have time for any of that.
Why?
Because I’m first.
in my dreams nigel. in my dreams.
Oooooh. . . I thought Cathy meant she TALKED her husband to sleep.
My bad.
true confession?
i’ve done that before too.
*snort*
Hee hee!
Me too.
Mark does not like to stay up to argue.
He can fall asleep just as I am in the middle of making my case.
::Snore::
I note the “Mark is sometimes right” tag and wonder, if I click it, how many posts will I find?
The cats…do…not…travel.
Although we have occasionally put Nimbus in a cat halter and brought him into the backyard because when we’re outside and he’s inside he YOWLS.
This, not surprisingly, has turned into much entertainment for us.
Nimbus touching nature.
Next on Mutual of Omaha’s Whiny Kingdom.
lori, no offense about the third is for losers. Nigel?
just sometimes makes me so flustered that i can’t think straight.
much love
Ummm . . . Cathy?
You are third, babe.
uh uh.
maryline and I?
posted at the exact same time.
but somehow?
that woman got her post put ahead of mine…
Yeah . . . that makes you third.
SNORT!
Cathy?
Third pancake is the best, babe.
Lori -
I believe this may be the only post with that “Mark is sometimes right” tag.
Hee hee!
We have had cats.
They are not good road trip companions.
At all.
Ha ha ha! I have the most ridiculous visuals after reading your post! It’s really unfair, though, because this afternoon I got the Headbanger Deluxe cousin of your yesterday’s headache and laughing so much feels like this: HaHaHaOwOwHaHaHaOwWithARailroadSpikeInMyEye. Still laughing anyway. *grin* Ow.
What is with the headaches?
You are like the fifth person I have heard from who has had a migraine in the past day.
That’s crazy!
I’m glad I could make you laugh, but sorry it had to be through agony.
Get better.
Quickly.
Big Ed was all about the getting touchy feely with the nature today as well.
My daughter and I are city loving Lisa’s to his Green Acres Oliver. Darling we love you but give us Starbucks and some Wi-Fi and we are as happy as pigs in shit…
Unfortunately we are easily browbeaten down by all of his logic and making sense nonsense.
Soooo we went, we romped, we had a cool time…
we ended up enjoying it all..
It was a beautiful day.
Rene
Here at our house?
Mark is generally NOT about nature.
But he does like to drive.
And today? He knew we needed to get out of here and touch some nature.
It was awesome.
A beautiful day.
And although it is annoying to admit?
Mark was right.
Hilarious. Also? Fight- inducing. Because maybe I was reading your blog instead of listening to my (boring) husband tell a (boring) story about something that happened to him today (he lives in another state for his job and until we can sell our house). And maybe I started laughing and choking on my water which made him realize I wasn’t listening to every (boring) word he was saying. Your story? Not boring and totally worth the argument….
I am sorry to have caused a fight, but also?
I am secretly pleased.
Hee hee!
I have never sat in the car while having the oil changed. I must try that next time. Also, the babe wouldn’t sleep tonight so what does the husband do? Says ” I’d go to bed but you’ll be mad at me” my response, “go to bed..” And then softly “douchebag” he better let me sleep in!!
High-fives on passive aggressiveness, babe!
High-fives!
Dog slobbery windshield and cranky suspended over a pit Maj and nature and scattered belongings!
Who gets an oil change with the family in the car?
I hate Valvoline.
Can you really only take one dog? Ours would die of loneliness if only one got to go…
People with momentum, baby!
That’s who gets an oil change with the family in the car.
People with momentum.
And idiots.
Snort!
We did not take the larger dog for several reasons.
1) She is not as annoying as the smaller dog, and so did not suit my purposes.
2) We were going to the river, which meant the larger dog would have gone swimming and filled the car with wet dog smell.
3) And finally (and most importantly), she keeps eating those fucking plums. And that flatulence? On an all-day road trip?
Not fucking even.
Your cool logic and reason?
Makes so much sense.
Seriously, though? My dogs would die of stress if we separated them.
Harshes my Evil Genius mellow, I guess. Cause our small dog is also the annoying on in the car.
That brought back some memories of our family travelling. My sisters and I in the back and Mum and Dad in the front. And dog in the boot. It was a station wagon and we had one of those things to attempt to prevent dog from jumping into rest of car. It spent most of its time with its head poked through slobering all over the back seat.
The thing about memories is though they always make me sad. If they are of sad times then the memories make me sad. If they are of happy times then the memories make me sad because its of a happy time that is no longer. Hence I avoid them as much as possible. I think there might be something wrong with me.
All memories make you sad?
There is something seriously wrong with you.
I think that’s why?
You feel like family to me.
You must be on something, is it love? b/c I’d scream if hubs got us all out the door come on let’s move it, people, we’re burnin’ daylight here…and………letsstopforanoilchange.
I am a master of passive aggression when I want to be.
Witness the small annoying dog.
But Mark is no slouch in this department either.
And so we got the oil changed.
I LOVE that man.
He takes a lot of shit, but then occasionally?
He serves some.
I just saw a documentary on how important dogs are in our lives, and how they have been bred for hundreds of years to read our slightest physical expressions, and how our lives would not be the same without them. Assistance dogs, farm dogs, therapy dogs. And now, the road trip dog. molly
Not road-trip dogs.
That’s not the smaller stupid dog’s main role.
He is my passive-aggression delivery dog.
YAY!
Love your passive-aggressive-ness. Love it.
And also? Not good in a car, my 100 pound people loving Doberman. In our wee small car. Try to make that beasy stay in the back seat — as soon as people are around (or god forbid we should go through a drive through) he leaps, and not so suave-like (must take after me) into the front seat and tries to get the people. Although having the 100 pound beast jump onto my lap is not all so pleasant, watching other’s reactions to him leaping at them is priceless. He just wants kisses.
And also also? It drives the fiance batty. Win win.
Driving loved ones batty?
One of my favorite things.
High-fives!
Ok, so on any other blog, a post like this would make me chuckle. However you are so crafty with your word painting that I was ROLLING when I read this. Who needs pictures and videos and all that jazz when you have painty words?
Ps. your dog? sounds like a psycho. an awesomely entertaining psycho.
Rolling is lovely!
As you well know.
And the stupid smaller dog?
Is a psycho.
I love him.
I am so thankful for a happy post from you. Lately? I have been holding my breath waiting to see if it is or not. Being all emotional is not me. Yet? YOU! Bring it out. This though, all out loud giggling.
I’m glad.
Giggling is good.