Directions, Shmirections. (Or...Erections! Ha. That's funny to me.)
Well, I have finally succeeded in buying a new car. This took...time. It took time, because the ASSHOLE who I was purchasing a car from? JAY? Well. We negotiated the deal, and he agreed to get this big ass scratch fixed, and then he turned around and sold the car to someone else who DID NOT SEE the scratch. Possibly a blind person. I don't know. Anyway, there was screaming and cussing involved. Y'all know.
But, so, I found another car, from a very nice man named Tom, and Tom was cool, and was not slimy (as was JAY, EVIL used car salesman whose name I curse regularly), and Tom got me all new tires and got the car detailed, and I finally fucking picked up the car tonight. And now I am inviting all manner of people over to my house to take test drives. The phone calls go something like this:
Self: Hey! Want to drive my car?
Friend of Doxie: Um. No?
Self: Yes you do. Come over now if you know what is good for you.
Friend of Doxie: Sigh. Maybe...not so much at ten on a Tuesday night. Later though! Kisses!
Self: You are a Hater. I shall now write about you on the internet. And my car will throw up on you directly.
And so on. Anyway, Dukay and I went to dinner to celebrate, where I promptly misjudged the front length of my new(ish) car and drove directly over the curb and into a flower garden. Hi.
And then I called my mother, and forced her to come to the parking lot located next to the restaurant, and see my new(ish) car. Which she did do, because she is long-suffering, and then she drove the car in circles and was like, "Well, it...circles nicely, dear."
Also, she said it was pretty. IT IS. It is very pretty, and also it has a computer thingy that tells me where I am. And y'all, THANK GOD.
People, I do not think I have explained to you how bad I am with directions. Ha! So bad! It is one of those things I cannot understand, like that I described last week. Not at all, not even if you promise me shoes and wine, I CANNOT FIND YOUR HOUSE. And then I cannot find my way home. I will have to live with you.
I am perpeturally trapped in a state of almost-lost, which means that on my first day of work at my new job, I had to call my dad and have him talk me through the directions, WHICH ARE NOT THAT COMPLICATED, and pretty much went like, "Go straight...okay, take a right...and, uh, park."
But still. I can't find anything. I have gotten lost between my parents' house and my own. AND THIS IS FOUR MILES. I have had to accept the fact that my directional instincts = always wrong, because otherwise, I end up in a part of town that is strange and unusual and which I have never seen before, and which may, in fact, be Alabama. This has happpened. I am not kidding.
Actually! One time? In college? I was the driver for a trip to Miami of Ohio, to visit our friends there, and my cute boyfriend who possibly turned out to be gay. So, I'm driving, and everyone falls asleep, and eventually I am lost enough to stop and ask questions, AND THIS IS WHERE I LEARN THAT WE ARE IN INDIANA.
And another time! I was named Driver for our trip to Mardi Gras. And again, my idiot friends fell asleep, and I was responsible for navigating our way to New Orleans. And all was going well, I thought, until I somehow ended up on a smaller road, which led to a sort-of paved road, which...led to a dirt road, which led to...uh. The woods. The forest. Where the road stopped. In the middle of Louisiana. Which is haunted.
I woke everyone up, all, "Um, we're...in a forest! Isn't it magical?"
Obviously, everyone was thrilled with me. I am the best driver ever. Who else takes you to haunted forests? NOBODY! Hop in, people!
So. The navigational computer thingy is gorgeous, and it knows where I am, and knows how to get me home, and is smarter than most college professors. And totally worth all the ridiculous money I paid (it IS, SHUT UP) even though the dogs and I will be eating Ramen for the next...sixty months. Give or take.
So, that's that. Car = bought. In the driveway. Waiting for a place in the garage, which must now be cleaned out. (This will be an devastating story, I am sure. Wait until next week, when I discover the box full of REFRIGERATED GOODS that I remember packing back in 2002, but have not seen since. Death waits in the garage.)
And I'm all excited, y'all. I bought a car! It is pretty! Thanks to Tom, for not being a fuck, and for not saying, "You just need to grow up, young lady, and live in the real world like the rest of us," WHICH IS MAYBE WHAT JAY SAID TO ME, when he admitted he had SOLD THE CAR I had already negotiated to buy. Ha ha, Jay! You know, I think we should go on another test drive.
I know a pretty good forest we could check out.