Nope... your wife's a chick right? That is of course unless by "wife" you mean life partner, and only call him that because he wears a dress, heels and some sparkley earings and fronts like he's not really a he, and after the last meeting, with all your touchy feely hugging and s***, Im not sure that I doubt that to be fact, in which case, I still don't have a problem with that because it simply proves my point. UNLESS... She drive's 60mph in the Carpool lane by herself cause she's got one of those "Metro" blue-cloudy-type license plates that make her feel all special in a bunny-hugging, granola-munchin, hairy legged, tree-humping, window-licking kinda way, then and only then do I have a problem. Cause that lane is for me and my OTHER PASSENGERS who are actually CARPOOLING to work in the morning at 90 MPH in my big ass gas guzlling 12MPG Sequoia. 15 minutes late (CUZ THATS HOW I ROLL...BIATCH), running up on that slow assed blue-flamer plate wearin Prius pokin along at 60 like there aint no care in the world 'cept how many speckled owls are being saved with each gallon the devil's brew my wonderful little car doesnt need to haul my bunny-hugging, granola-munchin, hairy legged, tree-humping, window-licking butt to my wonderful butterflies and fairy princesses job in the morning.
Other than that I'm totally cool with it.