Every time we go out for dinner or drinks, the same conversation takes place. It usually begins when we are about half way home:
ME: Guess what?
Angry: Let me think; you have to pee?
Angry: Why don't you ever go before we leave?
ME: I did!
Angry: I think you went about an hour ago. That doesn't count.
ME: Hurry up and drive as fast as you can without getting a ticket.
Angry (with a very heavy sigh): I'll do my best.
ME (every time the car hits a pothole or bump): Don't do that! I'm gonna pee my pants.Angry: I can't avoid every friggin' bump or pothole. You should have gone before we left.
When we get home, Angry has to bolt our garage door and then unbolt and unlock the back door.
While this is going on, I'm standing on the back porch. Well, not standing. I'm actually doing a
ME: COME OOOOOONNNNN! I gotta pee!!
Angry: Maybe you should bring your keys with you so you don't have to wait for me.
ME: You go slow on purpose. (I actually think he does. He's usually dropping his keys or looking at something in the yard.)
Angry: I'm going as fast as I can.
ME (as he unlocks the door): Get out of the way!Angry (as I'm pushing past him to get into the house): Geez . . . you'd think you'd learn.
This conversation happens EVERY time, without fail. I don’t learn.
Maybe I’m the martyr of pee?