Thank you EVERYONE for the kind support and help with our jacked up car and well, supporting me during the great June bug attack of 2009. After a rousing round of Rock Band, cocktails, many hours dating an auto dealership - we traded in our rough, abusive bad boy for a smooth-talking, love machine. I am happy to report, I didn't wake up the next morning feeling dirty while doing the walk of shame and I didn't have to sell one of my kids on the black market for our more reliable ride. Now everyone is happy at least for the moment. After all the giddiness of selling my soul for a new ride, I was able to perform many a drum solo while simultaneously performing 6 loads of laundry and scrubbing my kitchen sink until the wee hours of the morn. Who knew having a new car was a natural antidepressant?
Determined to get my car into "better" shape for the trade-off, I spent hours trying to "debrief" it with a cleansing. Well, a blow-torch would have been in order but I couldn't readily find one at my disposal. While hoisting my ass into the back area of the car, I freaked the fuck out!
A budding four-year-old artist thought, "hey, it's 400 degrees outside. Let's color on PLASTIC with CRAYONS and pray my mother doesn't beat me within an inch of my life!"
Holy Shit! (Yes, I've already exclaimed this once) I managed to remove MOST of the evidence. I say most because, IT WAS MELTED CRAYON IN GROOVED PLASTIC!
I then moved onto the arduous attack of removing car seats:
It's alright, you can say it. Let's say it together, shall we? HOLY FUCK!!! If you aren't sure what you are looking at here, that pretty much makes the two of us. I think there is some melted chocolate from a birthday party and maybe MORE fucking crayons along with I don't know, a fortune from a fortune cookie? And spills of undetermined spillages.
Let this be a lesson to you my friends. I don't care if your child is 1 or 18, ALWAYS have a car seat cover to protect your vehicle's interior. and make sure your husband REPLACES the car seat cover after tearing up the car while looking for the elusive tarantula that managed to make it IN your car but never out. over a year ago.
After walking away from the beast, I did not look back with one bit of sadness and longing but muttered loudly "this car is a detailing nightmare." I then turned to see a woman anxiously looking at it, basically panting to take it out for a test run. I didn't have the heart to say, "stay away! It's tainted!" Because if I had, I would still be driving around the beast.
I know, I know. Should I go to confession now? or later?