As my wife and I approached a red traffic light another vehicle cut us off, forcing me to slam on the brakes, and then settled comfortably into the Pole Position in front of us. Fuming at the sight of the vehicle's operator clearly holding a dainty pink mobile phone against a mane of long blonde hair, I rolled down the driver's side window and leaned out...
Me: "I hope you're firing your 80's hairdresser on that cellphone you stupid little bleached blonde bitch!"
Me (looking over at my wife's rigid face): "Sorry honey. I know that was sexist. Please don't get angry. I've heard you say worse."
Her: "Yes, but when I say things like that, I'm usually not talking to what appears to be a 400 pound professional wrestler."
I woke up wondering how my wife had managed to get my lungs back in.