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Today in shit my husband says:

I swear to cthulhu that I will post something soon that has substance or is about feminism or something. I turned in my thesis today and my brain hurts and I think I'm dying, so a rant it is.

I posted a week ago that I got a new tattoo and that it needs to be filled in. In that time span, my husband has decided that I am a dangerous driver and I need to go to driving school (I already have a license and have for some time now). He has also decided that I can't get my tattoo finished until I complete driving school.


First of all, what the fuck? You're not my supervisor. Or my father. Chill the fuck out, kay? Furthermore, I refuse to believe I am a terrible driver when it's coming from the person who has killed TWO, not ONE but TWO cars by not putting oil in them. Also, I have been driving him to and from work and wherever he needs to go since he killed his last car. I told him that if my driving is that offensive to him, that maybe he should find other means of transportation, like a new car or a cab.

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