rex

   rex 

    As you may have gathered from yesterday’s post, those of you who read it that is, my day did not go according to plan. After a lengthy phone conversation where much laughing ensued about said day, I took a step back and reassessed the situation. I was shown the way if you will. And thank you for doing so, you know who you are, because you helped me to see the humour in my day. If you don’t laugh you cry right?

    Well without going into too much detail because none of you really need to know what went down, let’s just say that my vehicle was bad. VERY bad, bordering on evil. Because that freaking car has put DH & myself through some rather unsavoury stuff lately. Not all the car’s fault, but I’d prefer to stay cryptic, so you can all just wonder why I am ranting about a hunk of metal. He/She knows what they did and at this moment in time they are being driven home to be parked in the garage so He/She can spend some time alone and think about what they did.

    I refer to the evil car in question as He/She because there has been much debate about how to refer to said vehicle. I like to think of the car as a he…and I dubbed him Rex, or Rexy, because of his make and model. Over the years he has been loving referred to as either the ‘Bat Mobile’ or our personal fave, the ‘Doll Car’. Our friends started calling him the ‘Doll Car’ because of his ridiculously small stature. Very unsuitable for a family with 3 kids all trying to get to separate sporting events, where sticks and balls and things with blades might be involved. But we are only two in our family. Three if you count our rather large princess of a dog. So a small car suits us just fine. Plus it has cool suicide doors. And you gotta love a 2 door car with hidden doors.

    Ok, so sometimes DH grumbles and complains that it’s not very practical when you purchase say, a dresser from Ikea. Then you are forced to midge rake in the parking lot looking for string or anything that you can tie the trunk closed with. But how often do you do that really? And it still makes me laugh my ass off thinking about that day…

    Pretty funny when you consider that my husband tried desperately to talk me into that car. I didn’t want it. No way. I wanted something else equally as impractical. Perhaps even a tad smaller. After much debating DH pulled out his trump card. Britney Spears. DON’T JUDGE. As it turns out she was photographed exiting our car. Well, not OUR actual car. Same make. Same model. DH knew I’d be putty in his hands after that. I am not admitting a weakness for Britney Spears, that would be foolish, and some of you would never let me live it down. Regardless, the car is ours. Warts and all. I hope he feels some remorse while he sits in the cold garage. It may be a while before he gets released from his time out.

    That’s me then.

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Published in: on May 1, 2009 at 1:01 pm  Comments (1)  
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