Tuesday, April 19, 2011

On Boycotting

The boycott of the Homobile continues, unbeknown to The Husband, which in essence makes my boycott meaningless.  The purpose of a boycott is to bring attention to the fact that you're no longer doing something.  Thus, my boycott is failing miserably since The Husband has no idea I'm even boycotting.  Yes, I am cutting off my nose to spite my face and punishing myself for something someone else did...that's how stoopid I am.

When I "casually" mentioned the fact that he was driving the Homobile, The Husband said he wouldn't be driving it next week.  Finally...my boycott will have meaning.  I'll actually be able to pointedly not drive the precious vehicle and when asked (Please God let him ask) I'll be able to finally make my boycott known.  I realize the pathetic immaturity of this whole boycott.  And the fact that I'm actually looking forward to the minute I make it known to The Husband is completely embarrassing to admit.

I've actually spent more time than I care to admit daydreaming about how the conversation will go...

Me:  "Jeez, I just spent a fortune putting gas in the truck."

Husband:  "How come you're driving the truck?  Why don't you drive the Homobile?  It's cheaper." (Of course, he wouldn't call it the Homobile because he doesn't know that I call it that behind his back.)

Me:  "I'd rather drive the truck."

Husband:  "Why?"

Me:  "Because...every time I drive your precious vehicle you end up getting mad about something and it's just not worth it..."  (I would be appropriately dramatic here...of course)

Husband:  "I don't get mad every time...you're being a little dramatic.." (I know he's got me here...but I continue on my charted course....)

Me:  "Yes you do...you told me every time I drive it and you're in it with me that you end up hating my guts but the time we get where we're going."  "So it's just easier not to drive it."

Husband:  (Remember...this is my dream conversation)  "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to make you feel bad...(I know I'm stretching it here)"


Husband:  "Oh, okay."

It's the stoopidist thing...