Thursday, 16 July 2009

New Car Hell

I had not intended to write about (finally) getting rid of the Palinmobile. But, I just can't help it.

Here's the deal. Over the weekend I picked out a car on the Internet. The Husband reviewed it and agreed that it met my specifications. Then the FATAL error occurred.

For some reason (temporary insanity) I uttered the words, "Can you just take care of it?" I even went so far as to promise certain things that I would be willing to do (sex), if he would just take care of it.

He. Agreed. To. Do. It.

I've got three letters for that: FML.

I like control. It works for me, because I'm good at controlling things. Out of milk? I know where to get some. Manage the household budget? You bet. Dry cleaning? Got it covered. Groceries? Sunday mornings. Let the dog out? Already done. You get the idea. I rule.

However, I motherfuckinghate buying a car. I hate car salesmen, car finance people, other people buying cars, and people in traffic on my way to buy the car. I hate the chit chat, I really hate the question "What kind of payment are you looking for?" (I always say zero), I hate the financing Wizard they keep behind the glass wall, and I hate how COLD it is inside the showroom. Seriously? They could charge less for the cars if they would turn their thermostat up a few degrees.

So, here I am. I'm supposed to meet my husband tonight at 7PM to sign my name in five places (he swears, just five places) to purchase a car I've never seen in person. To say the least, my control issues are in overdrive.

My fear is that I will arrive at 7PM and their will be a slight "problem". I haven't determined what exactly this "problem" is going to be, but I'm thinking there will be one.

I'm taking deep cleansing breaths and trying to focus on the positive. If things go as planned, I will be driving to work tomorrow morning in my new car that will luxuriously mold to my fat ass while melting the pounds away. I'll look ten years younger just because the lighting in the car is so good. I'll be WAY sexier than I am today, because I will rock this car so hard. Pink will play on the radio. All the other Stepford Wives will envy me and all the other Stepford Husbands will offer to buy their wives a car like mine in exchange for what I've promised my husband in return for "just taking care of it".

I'll let you know tomorrow how that works out for me.

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