Rush hour in Chicago

Husband:  Sadistic son of a bitch!

Term liberally applied to every driver who isn't us.

Parallel parking on Bell St.

Me:  There's a spot.
Husband:  Too small.
Me:  There's a spot.
Husband:  Wrong side.

We find a spot and my husband successfully parallel parks.

Husband:  Eh, eh!  Take that!  (giggles)  Jesus Christ!  That was great.

On the way to Michigan

Me:  Oh babe!  I think we have to turn if we stay in this lane.
Husband:  What?  Shit.  You're right.

We are now driving in the wrong direction and there seems to be no way off road we are on.  Husband's knuckles are white and jaw is clenching.  Several miles pass in silence.  Suddenly....

Husband:  Everyone on this road is a bunch of gypsies.

On The Way To The Pet Store

Husband:  That pizza delivery guy is driving like a chad.
*pause*
Me:  What's a chad?
Husband:  Someone whose name is Chad.