Tuesday, Handicap Stop

Because of a medical condition, my husband of 30 years can no longer drive a car -- so now he is driving ME nuts. Not only does he tell me how to drive ("You're too far to the right," or "Watch out for that car!" or " I'd go this way," etc.), but he feels it is his responsibility to remotely lock/unlock the car doors, remotely start the car -- anything having to do with the car but drive it. We end up "cancelling" each other out when I try to start the car or lock it.

Please tell me how to solve the dilemma about who should control the functions of the car.



BaHHH! I can't stand those people. Whether it's been my Mom or girlfriends, they never shut up. They think that running their mouth will run the car. "Hey girlfriends from the past, didn't you back up in to a lawn mower and pulled into traffic because you were putting on your makeup? And you want to tell me not to do a U-eeeee?"
Yet, when my friend Lauren drives, I'm very handsy about music, constantly switching the knobs so it doesn't feel like the temperature is at Backdraft degrees, and I'm twitchy and ornery that I'm not driving. But, I'm allowed to be hypocritical. I rule these pages.

If your capper husband can't stand the way that you drive, tell him to ride the Pace Bus. They have a van special for crips that bitch. On top of it, a reduced fare. As a guy that shells out $4.50 a day riding the CTA, I'd say that's more than fucking fair.
If that doesn't work, buy a motorcycle. I'm pretty sure his medical condition won't let him ride on a motorcycle. This will confine him to his home and he will probably turn into the older father (Robert Duvall) from Sling Blade. You know, that part where Sling Blade Bob Thorton confronts his Dad for killing his little brother all them years ago. The point is, he will just rot for being an asshole that bitches more than drive time radio.
If all else fails, get divorced and become a cougar. I dunno, whatever.