It's Always a Barrel of Laughs for B

The other day when I arrived home, B was kind enough to open the fence for me. As I passed I asked him to check to see if there was a dent in my bumper.

B: Why would there be a dent in your bumper?

Me: Oh. I couldn't remember if I was in an accident this morning or not.

B: WHAT?

You see, that morning I was driving along the freeway I heard the distinct crunch of a plastic bumper. I looked up to see the guy behind me and the guy behind him pulling off to the side and wondered briefly if I was involved. I did not remember being jolted or feeling it occur.  

Then I promptly forgot until I was driving by B.

However, what makes the above scenario that much more ridiculous is that it was not the first time we had such a conversation in the past couple of weeks. Let's rewind, shall we?

~couple weeks prior~

While sitting in our screened-in back porch, I suddenly remembered to ask B:

Me: Hey! Check the front right end of my truck to see if it has orange paint on it.

B: Why would it have orange paint on it?

Me: Maybe, I hit some barrels?

Oh, I hit some barrels.  Let's just say it involved a bit of misjudgment on my part as to the speed of the car ahead of me, the tenancity of the semi truck next to me and my ability to slow down/stop on a dime.

Let's just say that maybe three barrels lost their life.

Let's just say I may have been completely mortified at having to stop at the side of the raod until I could get things under control.

I will say, though, there was no orange paint.

 

I Can't Help That I Love My Husband More Than Joggers

Remember when I told you about that jogger wearing an iPod and how stupid she was when she almost ran in front of our car because she couldn't hear it? Well you know who heard me? Karma. So I almost hit a jogger without an iPod because I didn't see him despite the fact that my eyes were open and I was looking right at him.

My Mom had come over to visit and to see all that we had done around the house. She also came over to go to this HUGE neighborhood yard sale which turned out to be a HUGE fail. It also turned out to be one of the hottest days this year. Naturally.

So I decided to drive Mom around town and show her my local haunts. Kind of like this:

"And here is where the new Kroger will be, in that hole. That should be done in about 9 more months."

"That is our favorite Thai place"

"There's Starbucks"

"There's my bank...and there's MY HUSBAND."

"HI B!!!"

It was right about then that I started honking the horn and waving frantically as if I had never seen B before in my life. While that is happening, I am also turning into the parking lot to get to Starbucks. That is right about the time I look in my rear view mirror and see a jogger grimacing at me as he unwraps his body around the backside of my car.

And they say texting kills people. Apparently it is waving. Waving kills people. Write that down.

B drives over and I ask him if he saw that I almost hit that jogger. Yes, he did. Apparently he thought I was beeping at the jogger. Great. Poor jogger probably thought that too. Although, that does seem to imply that I actually SAW the jogger.

I will take that as a win.

Crime Watch Wednesday: Is it Really an OUIL if You Are Sleeping or if the Car is Not Moving?

This week's Crime Watch Wednesday brings us the tale of a sleepy drunk or drunk sleeper. You be the judge.

A man was spotted sleeping in his car, slumped behind the wheel in the early morning hours. The keys were not in the ignition, but in the console. The car was not running however, the front tire was blown out. The man reeked of alcohol and placed himself at a location approximately 100 miles from where he actually was. He refused all sobriety tests and was arrested for operating a vehicle under the influence.

OUIL, really? The vehicle wasn't moving. Heck, the keys were not even in the ignition. Maybe the guy never even drove the car. Are they solely relying on the fact that he said he was actually 100 miles from where he was? Maybe he walked, or stumbled, there. Maybe he parked his car 100 miles away*, stumbled back there drunk and decided to sleep it off. And now he is facing charges. What's a 100 miles to a drunk? I mean a SLEEPY person.

Is there no justice in this world??

Now THIS is operating under the influence:

No doubt about that one. Hi, Dukes of Hazzard** lady! Also? Rumor has it she tried to get BACK in the car and drive again. After she landed.

That's some scary stuff.

*Okay, now I am thinking of that Proclaimers song "I Would Walk 500 Miles." Maybe the songwriter was in a similar situation? Huh.

**I totally had to Google "Dukes of Hazzard" because spell check was telling me I spelled "Hazzard" wrong. Apparently spellcheck is not a fan of bad 70s TV shows. And by "bad", I mean "hella good."

***In other news, songs and lyrics seem to be a theme around here lately. That is totally unintentional. I cannot plan my day let alone an entire blog theme. Just so you know.

Vicky Runs My Life. As She Should Because She is Good at It. Is She Listening?

Vicky came to me on Christmas morning in the hands of B. She was wrapped in a little box and I knew exactly what she was. Probably because B asked me a month prior if I wanted her, informed me when he ordered her, and told me when she arrived at the house. Mystery runs deep with that one.

Vicky is my new BFF. She is very knowledgeable. It is almost like she has a huge database in her head. She also speaks perfect English. As a result, right away I knew her name must be Victoria. However, since we became such fast friends, I now call her Vicky for short.

Victoria, or Vicky for short, is my new Garmin nuvi 205, or GPS for short.* She is currently my most treasured possession. Of course, she is also my most dangerous possession. Really! I no longer have to think at all. I put in the address and Vicky gets me there. She tells me when to turn, even issuing up to two warnings before reaching the desired turn mark.

You can't outsmart Vicky. If you decide you do not like her route, which is always the best route by the way**, she will simply speak to you in her perfect English and say "Recalculating" and the next thing you know, Vicky has a new route planned and is calmly telling you when to turn and where to go without even a hint of anger in her voice.

How is Vicky dangerous, you ask? Well, every time I use her, I rely on her that much more. Go ahead. Ask me how to get to my mother's house that I have driven to every week (and sometimes twice) for the past 6 years. I DON'T KNOW. I can tell you the route I used to take before Vicky came in my life, but that would be the INCORRECT ROUTE.

And when I forget Vicky? DISASTER. Sometimes I don't turn where I need to because I don't hear her voice saying "Turn now." Then when I realize that I missed my turn I start screaming "RECALCULATE" but, sadly, there is no one there to do this for me. So I drive aimlessly around moaning Vicky's name quietly or until something starts to look familiar. Like our driveway because I was just down the block.

Seriously, though, Vicky is wonderful. B and I were driving around looking at Christmas lights with Jersey (who was thrilled as you can imagine) and just having the map on the dash helped when B instructed me to turn down a dead end road. When I told him it was a dead end, he replied "I suppose so." No, it IS A DEAD END ROAD. VICKY SAID SO!!

Yes, B made fun of me the first day for arguing with Vicky - "Yes, I HEAR you. I will turn" or "I can't turn there is a RED LIGHT" - until he drove with her and soon did the same thing. However, he soon came to realize Vicky's infinite wisdom and even took her on a field trip with his parents. Now, when faced with a tough question, even those not about driving, we often ask ourselves "What would Vicky do?"

The answer is always: Turn right now.

And so we do.

*I don't know if that is technically the short version, but all the cool kids call it that.

**It is always the best route because Vicky tells me it is.

***You do NOT argue with Vicky.

***help

Birthday Wishes, Dishes and Crashes

As you might have guessed, the other day was my birthday. Monday to be exact. The day did not really start off that great as I woke up feeling horrible due to an undisclosed* condition and ended up leaving work just a couple hours in to come home and sleep.

And B crashed his car and totaled it.

Sounds horrible, right? Yet it was a terrific birthday. Here are some of the better moments:

• After my nap/sleep, I felt well enough to go for birthday dinner. Mongolian BBQ makes everything okay including insane stomach aches
• B bought me the scanner I coveted so that I can scan old pictures and stuff and maybe even put them on the blog. He unceremoniously, but excitedly, handed me the unwrapped scanner after attempting to give it to me weeks earlier. His words "did you ever think you would get a gift like this?" Yes, as it is exactly what I asked for and you ordered it directly from the link I sent you, I kinda thought I would. And I love it and cannot wait to start scanning! Sounds like a weekend project...
• B also gave me a card from him and the cats which was perfect as it talked about how the cats just wanted me to feed them. You have no idea what I have been putting up with lately with those cats. That's for another post entirely.
• B managed to sell his totaled car and get his insurance refunded, all during the time I napped/slept. Talk about being proactive.
• My secretary got me some amazing cucumber melon hand soap from Bath and Body Works. She has now been elevated to my MOST FAVORITE SECRETARY EVER. Yes, I am easily bought.

And finally, two stories that amuse me.

First, B has tried to blame everyone but himself for his accident:

1. When first informing me of his accident he told me he was on his way home from the gym. However, when he handed me my birthday card, he stated "I got into the accident because I had to get you THIS." Huh. Waiting until the last minute didn't quite work out did it?
2. B then announced that the card was "really from the cats." Apparently, those cats cannot be bothered to buy things in advance either and are also responsible for the accident.
3. Later, when we were discussing the accumulation of empty cans that are taking over our kitchen, B indicated he needed to find a place to return them as our local grocery store does not have an automated bin, announcing "That's what I was doing...I was on my way to return cans when the accident happened."

That was one busy boy. No wonder he crashed. Yes, it does seem like he crashes often. Somehow he says this is my fault. Note: I am never there.

Now, as I was leaving work early due to my overwhelming need to lie in bed and pretend I did not have a stomach, I told B I would come pick him up as he was not sure if his car was drivable. As I had almost reached my destination, B called to say never mind he was going to drive the car home. Apparently the tire place said it would cost $1,000 to fix the tire. Yep...time to pack it up. I asked B if he was sure he did not want me to follow him home and he said he was sure.

Just then I passed B's car. Yeah, the tire was sticking outward. He would be driving on the outer edge of the SPARE tire. You know? One of those minis? All I could imagine is my crawling in bed just to get a phone call that the tire did not make it. So I followed him home. Much to my amazement and somewhat disappointment, the tire made it all the way home. Not that I wanted anything bad to happen, I just expected it to happen.

I mean, look at it! Wouldn't you expect something bad to happen?

Well, maybe it doesn't look THAT bad. How about a close up?

Yep, doesn't look straight at all does it? Poor little car.

So, in spite of the insanity of the day and the poor start, I had a terrific birthday full of hugs, laughter, love and presents.

Sadly, B's car cannot say the same.

*To be disclosed in a future post.

**No one was hurt in B's accident which is the most important thing of all.

***Thank you for a great birthday B!! Sorry about your car.

Just Another Day with My Dealer

We wasted no time in getting my damaged vehicle to the dealership, or so we thought. B and I drove it up there Sunday night to leave the keys and hopefully have them start on it bright and early Monday morning. I almost wrote on the envelope "please let Ben get my car" but felt that was pushing my luck. Now let me tell you about that envelope. The envelopes and pen are outside where the key drop box is located. At the time of the drop off, it was about 10 degrees and the wind was whipping around like crazy. I am standing there trying to fill out my information only to find:

• It was too cold for the pen to write well and it stopped working twice
  
• It was too cold for the pen that I dug out of my purse to write well
  
• I was cold
  
• I could not remember my plate number and had to walk back to my car to look it up
  
• It took three pens to write everything down
  
• When I was done I realized that the envelope was sealed shut, possibly due to the weather, and I had to start all over - GRRRR
  

When I was finally done, and after B snidely remarked "write a novel why don't you," we were off happy in the knowledge that we were proactive in getting the car fixed. B assured me that the dealer would call me the next day and handle everything. After all, that's what happened in his experience.

Not so much for me. When I next talked to B at 11 am the following day, I noted that no one from the dealership had called. I decided to be proactive and call them. As I was googling the number, I realized that there was a special body shop and collision department. I then realized that my car was left at service. According to their website there is one mile between the two, however, I surmised that the entire mile is the dealership because it is quite large and surely Service would have gotten my car down to Collision, right? Wrong.

I call Collision and reach a woman who sounds like she smokes Marlboro Reds every 5 minutes only to be interrupted by shots of bourbon. We discuss:

Me: Hi. I want to know if you have my car. I left it at the dealer last night.

Woman: No [sounding surprised] I don't have it!

[Apparently they must not have received any cars because I never really identified my car besides what I noted above.]  Anyway...

Woman: Is it drivable?

Me: Yes, I drove it there and left it at Service with the keys in the nightbox.

Woman: We are in Collision.

Me: I realize that now. However, at the time I did not think of that and left it at Service. I figured they must have driven it down.

Woman: Is it drivable?

Me: YES. I drove it there and left it there. It only has a dent in the rear.

Woman: We don't have it. Are you sure Service would know it should come to us?

Me: Well I did write "In an ACCIDENT, DENT in rear, call for INSURANCE information." You think that would be enough for them to figure out.

Woman: Where did you leave it?

Me: In the drop off area, right in front of the box.

Woman: Is it easy to spot?

Me: It is RIGHT in front of the box with three other cars, first in line. Can't really miss it unless you are not looking.

Woman: Well, we don't have it but I can call them and see if they have it.

Me: Thank you.

About a half hour later I receive a call from Ben:

Ben: Hi. We have your car here in Service.

Me: Thanks. I left it there by mistake. It should be in Collision.

Ben: So I am reading this right, you were in an accident and want it fixed?

Me: Yes, please.

Ben: Okay, but you left it in Service.

Me: I am aware. It was a mistake. Meant for Collision.

Ben: Okay. We will try to get it down there.

Try? TRY? How hard is it to get a car that is DRIVABLE down to an area that is a mere mile from you and in which the entire mile is YOUR DEALERSHIP. I know you have couriers. In fact, those couriers drove me ACROSS THE STREET last time to get my rental. Try? I know you can do it.

And they did. Marlboro Bourbon lady called me an hour later to say that she got it. 

In their defense, I should have perhaps known I needed Collision and not Service. However, in my defense, I do not make it a habit to visit Collision and since my car is drivable, it really shouldn't have been a problem.

I had high hopes for my BFF Ben. Sigh.

In other news, that little fender bender is resulting in an entire new hatch and bumper. Luckily I have the best insurance company around and my deductible was waived and they timely got an inspector out there so the dealership can move on ordering parts.

Yes, they have to order parts.  This could take a while.

I need another Ben.

*I really cannot spell drivable. Holy cow.  Thanks spell check.

Oops I Did It Again!

Well, maybe not me, but the lady behind me.  Another accident~ she smashed all up in my car. While I was stopped at a light and after she had stopped FOR THE SAME LIGHT.  Goodness.  Remember when I thought it was kind of amusing to be rearended because it wasn't my car? Not so funny when it is your car.

I was coming home from my Mom's house all happy and free, enjoying the last couple of days of my vacation.  I exited the freeway, got all the way over into the right lane and stopped behind a van with a trailer attached.  I stopped. A full stop.  A I-had-to-wait-at-least-two-minutes-before-the-light-changed stop.  The lady behind me also stopped for the same amount of time.  The light turned green and everyone around us started to move except the guy in the van with the trailer. I lifted up my hand to tap my horn and...

BAM!

The lady behind me plows into my vehicle.  After my head bounced off the back of my head rest for the second time in a month, I wonder how the hell she had hit me with such force having been STOPPED and all.  Then realizing I was sitting there in drive without braking, I pulled over to the side of the road, got out and saw a big ol' dent in the back of my vehicle at the hatch. She was driving an old Dodge pick up - all metal. I was driving my new Ford midsize SUV - all plastic.  She asked if I was okay and apologized and then suggested we go to the police station. Sounds good. I call B on the way who thinks I should get her license number in case she splits. Of course I am in front of her (which probably isn't a good idea given the situation) and cannot see it. However, she follows me to the police station without incident.  We arrive and so does her husband in another car. They must live nearby because he pulled up simultaneously. I don't know why she called for back up as I was smaller than her and never even raised my voice.  Whatever makes you happy.

We get to the police station only to find that we are at the wrong one.  Off we go to another police station. I call B to tell him.  This time I follow her and her husband follows me. And yep, he almost rear ends me on the way there. How would that be for some irony? Rear ended by the husband of the lady that rear ended you on the way to the police station to report that accident? Luckily that did not occur as I really wasn't in the mood for irony.

At the police station, she proceeds to apologize about 5 more times.  The cop asks what happens and she immediately says "I hit her."   Yeah, what she says.  The cop asked if we were stopped. I respond "I was stopped...." and she says "you had that guy with the trailer in front of you" as if that explained anything.  I know what happened. Everyone went but trailer guy including lady behind me, apparently flooring it, because she wasn't paying attention.

We then all troop out to the vehicles to survey the damage. I notice a piece of something on my bumper. Picking it up, I notice it is metal and does not appear to be from my vehicle.  I go to the front of her vehicle where her and her husband are looking at their damage (a totally smashed grill and possibly a smashed radiator) and ask "is this a piece of your car?"  It was. She took it.  When she looked at my damage, I stated "it's a dent."  She quipped "it looks expensive." Yes, I am sure it is.  Isn't it always?

B surveyed the damage when I brought it home and said "that's quite a dent."  Yep, it looks like I get to visit good ol' Ben at the dealership again. Hopefully he can get this repaired as well as he got the fluid leak repaired.

Starting 2009 off with a bang over here...

The One Where My Mom and I Are Mistaken for Lesbians...

With my recent car troubles, came a rental car.  It was a four door compact car which was quite a change from my midsize SUV.  No one felt the change greater than my Mom and me right along with her.

On Sunday, after getting the rental, I went to visit my Mom and we decided to go to breakfast and then out shopping. Okay, we really didn't decide that just then. That is something we do every weekend. It is our routine.  So we got in the car and routinely went on our way.

Immediately upon pulling out of the driveway, my Mom informs me that she cannot figure out how to pull the seat up.  I look over to see her sitting awkwardly with the seat back in an almost reclining position.  That doesn't look comfortable, I think. So I tell her the little lever is down the side of the seat. She cannot find it.  I tell her it is right below where the seatbelt connects.  No dice.

We approach a stop sign and I am puzzled as to why she cannot find this lever.  So I put the car in park and reach over.  Mom protests the entire time saying "it is really not a big deal." Maybe not to her, but I had a riddle to solve.  Why wouldn't her seat go up?  Considering that I was, at the time, buckled into my own seatbelt, it should come as no surprise that this whole encounter turned awkward and that hilarity ensued.  It did.

I reached over my mom and down the side of her seat which placed my face directly into her chest.  Which resulted in her gasping and making an "OH!" sound and face.  At the same time, I find the latch and attempt to maneuver it up which is no easy task seeing as how my face is in her chest and my leaning over is causing me to exert pressure into the very seatback I am trying to raise. So I decide to put my other arm around the back of her seat to lift it up.  

Are you listening?

I am at a stop sign with my face in my mom's chest, my arm around the back of the seat and she is making "OH" sounds and faces.

So not right.

As I raise the seat up, I say "see, it is working" all excited.  My mom looks mortified because she thinks she has spied a neighbor gawking at the window.  She responds with "great! You are crushing my chest."  At that exact moment I realize:

I AM STUCK!

Stuck in my mom's chest with my arm around her!

This caused me to break into a fit of giggles. So I giggle into her chest and say breathlessly:

"I...cannot...get...out...I...am...stuck."

Now she is laughing which is causing pressure on my face.

Somehow after an eternity, or 30 seconds, I manage to wrangle my hand out from the side of her seat and we were on our way laughing the entire time to the restaurant.

I can only imagine what that gawking neighbor thought. "There goes the neighborhood, we  have dem' der lesbians making out at the stop sign."

That's us...just doing our part to slowly alienate all of those around us, laughing maniacally all the while.

*I totally giggled throughout the writing of this post. In fact, I had to stop and put my head down because I was chuckling so hard.  Luckily, no one was around to witness this.

My New Best Friend Ben

I have a new best friend named Ben. We have only met twice and he does not know that we are BFFs, but that is okay.  Ben works at The Dealership where I took my car the other day.  I took my car in on Saturday for an oil change and was told I have a major transmission leak. Who knew? Not me apparently. Ben gave me a rental car and promised me that mine would be fixed on Monday. Thank God for warranties.  When I told B this he said, "yeah, right it will be ready on Monday."  I told him Ben was different and I believed him.

You see, we have a history with The Dealership and with Frank, my last service advisor or whatever they call themselves.  When I first leased this vehicle, it came with free satellite radio for 6 months.  Within 3 months the damn thing had stopped working. After calling the satellite radio company and performing crazy circus contortions like:

Press the On button and hold for 3 seconds

Next open the driver's door and shut really quickly

Then press Satellite

Open the driver's door again but keep open for 2 minutes

(you get the point), the satellite radio people told me it was my receiver and to take it back from whence it came.  So I ended up at The Dealership with Frank.  After giving me a rental and taking two days to look at my car, Frank told me it was indeed my receiver. However, they were out of those and they were on backorder.  Off I went.

THREE MONTHS later I finally got a receiver and only because B got involved.  I would regularly call Frank and check on the receiver only to be told the same thing - on back order. Frank also gave me the number to the car manufacturer customer service which I utilized to complain about the lack of movement to no avail.  Frank promised me that my satellite radio service would be extended so I would not miss out on my free service.

B finally got involved right after we got back from our honeymoon. He called Frank because he had HAD ENOUGH.  There was a lot of

yelling

and cursing

and logic such as

 "How is it possible that there is a satellite radio receiver shortage in this country? What are they putting in the new cars?" and

"Why don't you go take one of the satellite radios in one of the billion cars on your lot and install it in our #^@&#^@* car and then wait for a backordered one for the unsold car. This is RIDICULOUS!"

So Frank assured B that we would have a radio within a week. We had it the next day. THE NEXT DAY. Now I was livid.  And, actually so was B.  He took to that customer service call center like a dog to a bone, or in our case, the cats to some catnip.  It went a little something like this:

"How absolutely sexist can your company, The Dealership and Frank be? My wife has been calling every couple of days about this problem.  But the minute I, a man, calls, the radio is somehow miraculously found THE NEXT DAY.  Are we supposed to sit here and believe that is true?  Either Frank lied to us all along and there was a radio, or you and Frank decided to kick it in to high gear now that a man was involved.  I thought we were past those days, but apparently not."

There was more said, but you get the picture.  As a result of B's calls, the following occurred:

I got an apologetic phone call from Frank

I got an apologetic phone call from Frank's supervisor

I got an apologetic phone call from the car manufacturer customer service

I got 6 more months free satellite radio

They paid one of my monthly car payments

B rocks me world! Even he was impressed with all that was done after his call which, of course, just confirmed his theory that yelling gets things done.

Now, when I see Frank at The Dealership, he just averts his eyes.  Which brings me back full circle. You can see why B did not think the car would be ready.  However, he totally underestimated my BFF Ben. The car was ready by noon on Monday.  I went to pick it up and overheard the following exchange between Ben, Frank and unknown third service guy:

Ben:  Guys, I am going to leave some CDs in my upper left drawer for Ms. Smith when she comes in tomorrow. If I am not here, that is where they are, okay?

Unknown: Yep

Frank: [silence]

Ben: FRANK? Did you hear what I said?

Frank: Yes.

Ben: What did I say Frank? [totally said in a long drawn out tone you would use for a 2 year old]

Frank: It's in your upper left drawer.

Ben: What is in my upper left drawer Frank?

Frank: Ms. Smith

Ben: NO FRANK, Ms. Smith is not in my upper left drawer.  What is in there? [now I am cracking up]

Frank: Ms. Smith?

Ben: CDS FRANK, there are CDS in my upper left drawer.

Frank was schooled by Ben.  And that is why he is my new BFF.  B laughed when I told him this story.  I told B that if Ben had been on the satellite radio problem we would have had it in a week.

B - slayer of Frank, The Dealership and car manufacturers in one fell swoop

Ben - slayer and schooler of Frank

I love the men in my life!

The One Where My Mom and I Decide to Go Into Business Together...

My Mom and I have some great ideas. None of the come to fruition however, because they are too far fetched and half the time we do not even know what we are talking about.  Take for instance this IM exchange:

Me: B's brakes are out again.

Mom: Damn! Bro's turn signal is out again and that is dangerous.

Me: It is less dangerous than his brake lights being out.

Mom: I better have him check those too. Thanks.

Me: You are welcome. I am SO handy when it comes to cars.

Mom:  You are! You should get a side job doing it...

Me: Yeah, right.

Mom: and I will help. Two Women and a Wrench.

Me: Oh I like that name!  Do we even know what a wrench is?

Mom: Well, I do. And I think if you saw it you would too.  Yep we will get lots of work.

Me: I am pretty sure I know what one is.

Mom: You use it to loosen or tighten a pipe.

Me:  Too bad there aren't any pipes in a car (except maybe the exhaust)

Mom: We will just FIND some, then tell them that is their problem and bat our eyelashes at them.

Me: Good thing we have long eyelashes then.

Later that day, coincidentally, I got a newsletter from a blog called Cars for Girls. And the post shows the inside of the engine. So I send it to my mom:

Me: Doesn't look like there are any PIPES in there. ROFL

Mom: Well then "Two Ladies and a Screwdriver". Damn this starting a business is hard when you don't know anything.

Me: Except you always hear mechanics talk about wrenches. What do they use them for? Whom can we ask?

Mom: I know they use them. I will ask your bro and pretend it is for a contest or something.

Me: Like HE's gonna know.  Ha!*

Mom: I bet he does. Guys seem to pick up on that stuff.

Me: Have you met our guys? When is the last time bro worked on a car? I think I know more than him. Seriously.

Mom: I am trying to give them some macho cred.

Me: Okay, but you don't have to front with me.

I think it is safe to say my Mom and I won't be going into the car repair business anytime soon.  It is also safe to say we are huge dorks, especially when we try to be "hip" and use "street talk." Oh, and you would think since I subscribe to a blog called Cars for Girls, I could have easily found the answers to our questions, but I didn't even try. Because that's how I roll.

*My bro definitely knows more about cars than I do. I think.  And he is macho. He really is. All of the guys in our lives are macho.**

**And this has been a legal disclaimer brought to you, from me, to keep my ass from getting into trouble with the macho men in our lives.