I need to stop letting The Prince drag me to car shows.
For the sake of my sanity.
We've gone to two so far this summer and each time I've regretted the decision before, during and after its occurrence.
The Prince before a car show:
"Sweetie! Sweetie. We are going to see SO MUCH AWESOME SHIT TOMORROW. I am going to have a blast. I can't wait to walk around aimlessly for hours and chug six-dollar freshly-squeezed lemonade while refusing to let you sit down and/or find a clean bathroom."
The Prince during a car show:
"Sweetie! SWEETIE. Are you seeing this? This Chevelle is one of THREE ever made. Doesn't that just blow. your. mind!? Oh, OH, look at this engine. It's so beautiful. I bet it goes like a bat out of hell. What do you mean you want to go sit in the shade? There is no time for sitting."
The Prince after a car show:
"Sweetie? Sweetie? I've decided that I need to buy a really super awesome muscle car. Nothing else will do. I need to feel the thunder of an engine while I cruise down the highway, you know? I can't imagine ever owning something with only four cylinders. I need much more machine than that. Our car* is such a piece of shit."
*Only by "our car" he really means MY car that I PAID FOR.
The real kicker is that I put up with this for AN ENTIRE NIGHT, DAY AND AFTERMATH, whereas if I drag The Prince into any store I want to shop in, he whines after 2.5 seconds and actually (ACTUALLY) comes up to me and tries to rest his head on my shoulder. It's his way of letting me know that my shopping is gently killing his ginger spirit.
How was your weekend?