Monday, November 27, 2006

because I'm too lazy to write up two different posts here...

This weekend, I was forced to engage in an activity worse than a visit to the dentist, worse than being forced to listen to "Popozao" on repeat, worse than being photographed on a really bad hair day. Yep, I went vehicle shopping.

My car is a 1990 Mercedes, and while it still looks cool as hell, it's probably on its last legs - it's at a point where it would cost more to repair the stuff that's wrong than the vehicle is worth. And we probably need a larger vehicle, an SUV-type of thing, just because there are times when you need something bigger than a car, you know? For hauling around skate stuff, for transporting my menagerie of pets, for moving bodies to a shallow burial ground, whatever.

Usually, when a vehicle is in need of purchase, my husband takes care of that - even if the car is for me, it's better for him to do that since I'm easily intimidated by swarmy sales people and, besides, I don't care what I drive, as long as it has a working cd player and heat/air-conditioning. But this weekend, we happened to be out driving around together and decided to stop at a couple of places.

Is there anything worse than being attacked by a rabid young salesguy in his carefully pressed shirt and tie that his grandmother obviously gave him? I hate all the bullshit small talk, the way they try to kiss up by asking where you're from and how you like Savannah. I hate being dragged through the show room and having to give out my name and that kind of stuff. I hate the hovering while I open doors and check out the interior.

No, I don't have any questions.

No, I don't want to hear about the extended powertrain warranty - I don't even know what the hell a powertrain is - does Amtrak have those?

And, no, I'm not interested in seeing any minivans - do I LOOK like the minivan type to you?

So, after three dealerships, three skeevy salesguys and countless tires kicked, I still don't have a new vehicle - but I'm closer - I'm either getting a smallish SUV or a Scion (just because they're so fugly that they're kind of cool) - hopefully by the end of next weekend, this will all be a painful memory to me. Unless, of course, I run over Chris or Skip or Eric or whomever is trying to push a million financing options on me. Wish me luck.


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the one and only benefit to being clumsy and being in roller derby

all injuries are blamed on skating.

Like, for instance, if I totally fell and twisted the crap out of my ankle while walking across an almost completely flat lawn - I could totally play that off as a derby injury.