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I kept telling him we took a wrong turn near Albuquerque—but did Captain Conceited listen to me?

No, of course not.

The man wouldn’t look at a map to save his life. He was too busy flexing his muscles or playing air guitar mid-flight and belting out unbelievably obnoxious songs about how invincible and muscular he was.

As a result, we are not networking at the Super Convention in Arizona.

Let me tell you where we are.

We are stranded in Chihuahua, Mexico, without our passports, waiting for the authorities to confirm our identities with the International League of Heros.

On a high note, the locals have taken to calling me La Guapa and my husband El Pendejo. He speaks zero Spanish, so it was a piece of cake convincing him that pendejo means handsome. You should see the way he grins like an idiot and puffs out his chest whenever someone says it to him.

I guess it’s true what they say.

After a few centuries of marriage, you really do start to treasure all the little things.