Brace yourself for this one. It's what you call a shit-show.
It all started with Hubby wanting to go to the grocery store to get some meat. Except he'd already had a few beers, so he begged me to drive him. I eventually agreed, and told him to grab his credit card.
Then he asked if we could pick up new BBQ burner thingies too. We apparently need them. So I said fine, we could go to Canadian Tire. We decided to take Hubby's pick-up truck so I could get a new lawn chair. No way that would fit in my Civic.
So we left, me driving the truck, and him being a drunk backseat driver.
He paced around Crappy Tire before deciding he needed to go to Home Depot instead.
Me: "Weren't you hungry?"
Me: "Well, maybe we should just go to that burger place."
Hubby: "Yay! I love spontanuity!"
Me: "I think it's spontanEIty."
Hubby: "No. Really?"
Me: "Yes Honey. SpontAneous. SpontanEIty."
So we stopped at Home Depot, and he didn't even buy the damn BBQ burner thingies. SHOCKER. But I did get my lawn chair.
So Hubby paid, with his credit card, but fucked up the damn chip-card PIN code. So they messed around with it for a bit until they got it to go through without the PIN.
Me: "Do we need to go home and get another card to pay for dinner?"
Hubby: "No, it'll be fine. It worked."
This is where I should have known better. Always trust your instincts.
So I drove the truck, and Hubby backseat drove drunk, with a bright green plastic lawn chair in the back.
Dinner was fine, blah blah blah.
And then when it came time to pay... well, you know what happened, don't you?
So Hubby was even drunker, and I had to leave to get money.
Hubby, calling from the restaurant window: "Wait! I'll just call Mastercard!"
His phone was almost dead, but we called, and the customer service guy was NO. HELP. AT. ALL.
Apparently we had to go to the bank ATM to re-set the PIN. Assholes.
Me: "Give me the phone."
Bank Shithead: "Hello."
Me: "It's my credit account, I'm right here, and I don't want to get stranded in this restaurant."
Shithead: "blah blah blah... nothing we can do... blah blah blah"
Me: "Can you see how long I've had that credit card?"
Shithead: "Yes, I can see it right here."
Me: "Well, how long?"
Shithead: "How long do YOU think you've had it?"
Me: "Since 2001. That's a lot of purchases and a lot of interest payments."
Shithead: "Are you telling me that you're going to cancel your accounts because I can't fix your PIN?"
Me: "Well, c'mon. There's a customer service number on the back of the card, and you're not being helpful."
Him: "Well, irregardless---
Me: "IRREGARDLESS IS NOT A WORD."
Him: "blah blah blah... nothing we can do. You have to go to the bank ATM to re-set it."
Me: "Thanks for NOTHING." *hangs up*
But when I got to the bank ATM, the PIN didn't fucking work - because MY LIFE SUCKS. And probably because I hung up on Shithead.
So I drove home, and I should've taken the Civic back (gas ain't cheap), but I just fucking love plowing through the streets in that monster truck - especially when I'm pissed.
So I sped back to the burger joint, and then I thought:
Wait. Why the fuck am I rushing around for my drunk-ass idiot of a husband who didn't bring his own damn wallet, assured me it would be fine, and is probably just making conversation with his table neighbours and having another goddam BEER?
I got back and found exactly that. Of course. (Minus the additional beer - at least he knows better than that.)
And he proceeded to tell me about all the fun he had with the dudes at the next table - BEFORE HE EVEN GAVE ME A CHANCE TO YELL AT HIM.
Actually, I wasn't that mad at him. Turns out that if every time I was pissed at Hubby he just deflected by using someone else (such as a Bank Shithead) as a shield, he'd be in the clear.
Irregardless, the night turned out ok, I guess.