Dude, where's my #@%!$ ?

Ok. I'll admit it. I'm a recovering "swear driver". People with cars do stupid things. In times past when other people did stupid things in their cars, I would air my grievances in a very non-creative way. Not to their faces, but in the safety of my car I would blow off steam. Smart? No. Childish? Absolutely. I tried many times to stop and my hubby even bought this book for me to ponder. What finally stopped this craziness? See above photo.

I knew it would be impossible for me not to have some outlet for my angst, so I tried to come up with something. "Dude" was my answer. I could call someone a dude when they cut me off, hitched a ride on my bumper, or took my parking space. While dude is not the most attractive word, at least if Buttons repeated it I would get weird stares instead of angry, "what kind of mutha are you" stares. The other bonus of dude? It reminds me of Jeff Spicoli and how can you stay mad when you're using a term used by a pot-smoking surfer?

My plan was foolproof. "Dude, that is not cool to pass in front of me and then stop." "Dude, where am I supposed to go?" "Could you get over Dude, so I can get on the highway? I mean you have all the room in the world in the lane next to you." "Duuuuude!" Well, I did keep my voice down and it did make me keep the comments short. Mostly.

Well, I'm in the car the other day and there is a dude who not only needs a "dude" utterance, but also a laying of the horn. Well, I hear a little voice from the backseat say "No dudes, mama. No dudes." Foolproof maybe. Buttons? No fool.