We arrive at the car rental agency and they only have white cars. This is a problem because Bryan will not drive a white car. They remind him of his parents’ cars. We wait, in the cold, while the car rental guy retrieves a beige car. This, apparently, is sufficiently psychologically comforting. We settle in.

Me:What’s this barbecue implement doing in the back seat?

Bryan: You’re kidding. You’ve never seen an ice scraper?

Me: Where would I have seen an ice scraper?

Bryan: I don’t know. Movies? National Geographic?

Me: Right. What movie prominently featured an ice scraper?

Bryan: When Harry Met Sally.

Me: When?

Bryan: When they were scraping the ice off the windshield.

Me: That never happened.

Bryan: Okay. Fargo.

Me: When?

Bryan: When William H. Macy is scraping the windshield and he starts freaking out and beating the car because he knows they’re gonna catch him.

Me: … Are you enjoying your beige car?

My “Venus” razor falls out of my suitcase. Bryan retrieves it from the back seat and holds it like a switchblade.

Him: I’m gonna cut ya!

Me: The pink razor is not as threatening as you might suppose.

Him: Boy, boy, crazy boy, stay smooooth boy!

Me: Got a razor in my pocket…

Him: … you’re silky smoooooth boy!

Me: Lather up! I’ll make you look like a schoolboy!

Him: Just keep it smooth boy…

Both: …reeeeeal smoooooth.

Me: I feel cute today.

Him: Yeah.

Me: Please supply commentary.

Him: Baby, you look so cute today!

Me: Thanks! You look cute today too.

Him: Thanks!

(pause)

Me: I like being married to you.

This year, we did Bay to Breakers as the Marching Schneiders a la “One Day at a Time“. We drew on mustaches, wore men’s undershirts, and carried plungers, and yet still the women drew attention. My favorite unsavory remark was from the guy who wanted a blow job:

Bottomfeeder: Hi.

Me: Hi.

Bottomfeeder’s friend: Where’s the booze at?

BF: Where’s the head at?

Me: What?

BF: Where’s my head at?

Me: Excuse me, did you just ask for some of our booze, then request oral sex?

BF: I’m just sayin’, I could use a little head.

Me: You don’t get laid a lot, do you.

BF: I’m just sayin’.

Me: Yeah, I heard you. And I’m just sayin’ that you need to work on your opener if you’d like to have sex one day.

Bryan: What’d he say?

Me: He wants a blowjob.

Bryan (to BF): Did you just ask my wife for a blowjob?

BF: Yeah. Huh.

(Whereupon, Bryan poured a glass of sangria on the gentleman’s crotch.)

Now, you might think this is where the fisticuffs come in. Fortunately, the gentleman in question was so inebriated that it took him awhile to realize that his crotch was dripping with wine. He walked on ahead of us, and about five minutes later, he realized there was a problem. He grabbed at himself, attempting to locate the source of the liquid, he held his hands up to his face to more properly ascertain the nature of the liquid, he questioned his friends (who shrugged), then he walked bowlegged for a block or so. Spectacular.

After a long day of copyediting:

Who’s zoomin’ who, Bryan?

What?

Who’s zooooomin’ whoooo.

You’ve had enough tea.

I’m not caffeinated, I’m joyous.

OK.

Who’s zooOOOOOmin’ whooooo!

OK, that’s annoying.

You’re right, maybe I should have a glass of wine before we go out.

No way. Then you’ll be amped and uninhibited.

Tell me, baby. Tell me, baby!

Bryan: Green Bay got knocked out. They’re not going to the Super Bowl.

Me: Oh no! We wanted Green Bay to go to the Superbowl.

B: Yeah.

Me: I’m sorry!

B: I don’t know about that.

Me: What?

B: Your tone. I think you’re mocking me.

Me: No. I just don’t know the appropriate level of concern to express about one’s team not making it to the Super Bowl. It hasn’t come up before.

B: Oh. Well it’s kind of like you seeing Pamela Anderson on the cover of Jane again. Not a huge deal, but just… too bad.

We pause at a stoplight behind a car that has an enormous fish decal covering most of the back window.

Me: That guy loves fishin’.

B: He likes, killin’ ’em, cookin’ ’em, and stickin’ them on the back of his SUV.

Me: Where did he get that? Who thought, “You know what would be a big seller? A 3-foot-wide Rainbow Trout decal.”

B: Are you kidding? You’ve spent too much time in California. People have all kinds of shit like that on their cars.

Me: Is that true? Many people have large animal decals in their back windows?

B: Sure.

Me: Oh, America.

B: That’s why other countries are so jealous of us.

Me: The 3-foot fish decals?

B: The fish paraphernalia of all kinds. Fish decals, wooden fish models, fish oil paintings, great big beach towels with fish printed on them.

Me: Take that, world!