It is with a heavy heart that I report the demise of the Sparklesmobile, Suzanne. Yes, I name my cars. I also name my plants, furniture, and various household appliances. Don't judge me, y'all!
Anyway, as a public service I would like to inform you that there are things called "oil leaks" that can develop. And those "oil leaks" can spring up in places called "head gaskets." And when that happens, it blows ass. When you drive a twelve year-old piece of shit car that kind of nonsense will cost you more to repair than your sad, pathetic car is worth. And that's when you'll find yourself in the situation that I am in. Boo hoo.
So I will be buying a new car in the next couple weeks. I still have not decided what will be a suitable replacement. The Mister and I have had discussions recently (most all of which have taken place in his car) but I can report that those discussions have not gone well:
The Mister: So, what kind of car are you going to buy?
Me: Eh, I don't know. I'm still grieving. In the semi-bastardized words of Celine Dion, I'm not sure my heart can go on. I can't think about another car.
TM: Well, you're going to have to. Hate to break it to you.
Me: [sob]
TM: I don't care what you buy, I just want you to take good care of it. Make sure a good mechanic takes a look at it at least once a ...
Me: [looking out the window, rolling eyes, and doing PacMan mouth movements]
...
[approximately 37 minutes later...]
TM: What about a BMW?
Me: Ah, no. Not my thing. Don't really like them all that much. [Realizing that I'm in The Mister's car, which is -- you guessed it! -- a BMW] But they're great cars! Really!
TM: Uh huh. What's wrong with them?
Me: Nothing... I just like something a bit smaller. But... hey! I could get one of those little bitty ones like from the James Bond movie. I could be Jane Bond! And I'd kick ass! Awwww, hell yeah!
TM: What in the hell are you doing over there with your hands? And what is that farting sound you're making with your mouth?
Me: I'm using my imaginary gear shift. And KICKING ASS!
TM: Maybe you should think about a minivan.
Anyway, as a public service I would like to inform you that there are things called "oil leaks" that can develop. And those "oil leaks" can spring up in places called "head gaskets." And when that happens, it blows ass. When you drive a twelve year-old piece of shit car that kind of nonsense will cost you more to repair than your sad, pathetic car is worth. And that's when you'll find yourself in the situation that I am in. Boo hoo.
So I will be buying a new car in the next couple weeks. I still have not decided what will be a suitable replacement. The Mister and I have had discussions recently (most all of which have taken place in his car) but I can report that those discussions have not gone well:
The Mister: So, what kind of car are you going to buy?
Me: Eh, I don't know. I'm still grieving. In the semi-bastardized words of Celine Dion, I'm not sure my heart can go on. I can't think about another car.
TM: Well, you're going to have to. Hate to break it to you.
Me: [sob]
TM: I don't care what you buy, I just want you to take good care of it. Make sure a good mechanic takes a look at it at least once a ...
Me: [looking out the window, rolling eyes, and doing PacMan mouth movements]
...
[approximately 37 minutes later...]
TM: What about a BMW?
Me: Ah, no. Not my thing. Don't really like them all that much. [Realizing that I'm in The Mister's car, which is -- you guessed it! -- a BMW] But they're great cars! Really!
TM: Uh huh. What's wrong with them?
Me: Nothing... I just like something a bit smaller. But... hey! I could get one of those little bitty ones like from the James Bond movie. I could be Jane Bond! And I'd kick ass! Awwww, hell yeah!
TM: What in the hell are you doing over there with your hands? And what is that farting sound you're making with your mouth?
Me: I'm using my imaginary gear shift. And KICKING ASS!
TM: Maybe you should think about a minivan.
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