Dibs

My hubby and I had an argument of sorts the other day. One which I won because he finally called me a dork and walked away. If you quit the battlefield, you might as well wave a white flag and hand me a handwritten note acknowledging the brilliance of my logic. Besides, I had the unalienable right of DIBS on my side. HIS dibs. Which he can not take back, no matter how much he might wish he could. What did we argue about? Well ... we started this disagreement years ago over the salient issue of french fries and ended up two days ago agreeing that I get the next new car we buy. Mind you, he didn't verbally agree to this new car arrangement, but he did quit the battlefield because in the face of my unassailable logic, he could find nothing to say but "dork." Which isn't very insulting, considering the fact that in the future I will be driving this : I am C.J.'s future sexy car by right of DIBS. How did we get from french fries to a sexy new Audi? How di