Just What You Need to Pick Up Your Husband's Viagra

The other day, running an errand at Walgreens with the Doodlebug, what do we spot in the parking lot? As if we could miss it. A Hummer. It took up half the parking lot (which Walgreens shares with Trader Joes, which just screams "Hummer," doesn't it?). Behind the wheel was just another suburban woman. We live in Arlington, for goodness' sake. There isn't a dirt road, never mind desert or wilderness, to drive upon for miles and miles and miles. Why do you need a Hummer to pick up your vitamins and hair color? Please. These people should just wear signs that read, "I'm tough. And rich, too. And I have a tiny dick." It's much more to the point.