Men, what's with you?

         I have always been a Honda gal.  My first car was an '88 Honda Civic that my grandfather passed on to me when he died.  I drove the Vanilla Bean for 14 years, and I loved every second of it.  Still miss that car, with the broken RPM gauge and vinyl seats that would burn your ass after being parked in the sun, it's crackly speakers that the sound would go in and out of, I got pretty good at swift kicking the speaker while I drove so that my song would come back on.  BUT, when I moved to Maryland I realized I would need a more dependable form of transportation so I sold it and bought a forest green '98 civic.
    
         As my husband had an old beater truck we would always drive my car for family outings, and normally when we go somewhere as a family Doug is the one to drive.  Whenever we come home from said outings as a family, with Doug behind the wheel, he'll pull up to the curb in front of our house as close as possible and always, and I do mean always, scrapes the CRAP out of my wheel and hubcap.  I always end up yelling at him like, "Why do you have to pull up so close!?!  The hubcap is totally scraped up and mangled after all the years of you doing this!"  He just says he wants to get close.  Anyway, as I said, this had been going on in the eight years we lived in MD. 

       So, as our son got bigger and the car got older we decided to purchase a 2009 Ford Escape in 80's eyeshadow metallic blue. I don't think that's the official name of the paint but that's what it looks like. And, as you can imagine, when go tooling around town Doug is the one to drive (which I suppose is only fair since I get to drive it every other day of the week.) 

       On Thursday night we went out for Greek food at a restaurant near us called Dimitris.  When we pull into the parking lot and get out of the car Doug walks over to the passenger side, looks down at the wheel and says, "Hmm, looks like someone has been pulling too close to the curb and has scraped the tire here.  You really need to be careful about that, Kristin, don't get so close to the curb."  (I just happened to have parked too close to the sidewalk that very afternoon and DID actually scrape the wheel against the curb -which I NEVER ever do because, obviously, it pisses me off and I'm trying to keep this car nice for as long as possible.)  

        When I point out to him that he of all people has no right to criticize me about parking with wheel against the curb as for the last eight years he has done that same thing to my Honda, he then says to me, "Yeah but these tires are more expensive." 

         Are you fucking serious?  I guess it's okay for him to scrape the hell out of the Honda (because those tires only costs $5) but when I do it to the Escape I should get my license taken away.  Oh I was beyond irritated.  It was all I could do to go in and order my extra large glass of chardonnay to go with the cold shoulder I was giving him.

       Anyway, luckily I wasn't bothered for too long, once I got some tzatziki into my tummy I was all better.  Although I the irritation did resurface a little later when he offered to spray paint the curb bright red so as to help me from parking too close.  Then when he pulls up in front of the house he does it really slowly and carefully, looks over at me and says, "See, that's how you do it." 
 
   Oh brother, somebody shoot me.