When I'm on a roll, it's more like a bender with chocolate involved. Chocolate and maybe bunnies.
So, on Saturday morning, Kevin looked at me and said, "Let's go find a car for you." He was feeling hot. If we had been in Vegas, they would've given him another penthouse suite. But my head instantly filled with goo. "What, NOW?"
Over the past few years, my car has been on a steady decline. First, there was The Great Car-less-ness Irony of 2005, followed by The Ponderance of Brakes, which actually saved my life less than two weeks later. But most tellingly, we had The Death of Transport. So, really, finding a car for me was kinda obvious. We've seen it coming for two years.
And that's how we ended up driving to Toyota of Northridge.
But driving along the 101, we missed our offramp.
And that's how we ended up driving to Toyota and Scion of North Hollywood.
I knew that I wanted a hybrid. Since our Civic Hybrid doesn't have the cargo space for my keyboard, I had to go with another variety. The Prius.
I remember a time when I would see a Prius on the road and think, "WHO is so blind that they would buy that car? Ug. Ly." But now I list the Prius among Top Cute Things on Earth.
01. Bunnies
02. Kittens
03. Beluga whales
04. Less-cute bunnies than the #1 cute bunnies
05. Toyota Prius
Sometimes ugly things have a way of worming into your affections. Especially if they're so ugly, you feel sorry for them. Especially if they're also trying to save the planet. Noble and hideous. Be still, my heart.
But I didn't buy the Prius for its sweet design. I bought it for its MPG. And its folding seats. And the hidden compartment that the salesman pointed out was good for paraphernalia. Oh yes. He did.
In the end, I have a new car. I'm just trying not to think about the pairing of a girl who electromagnetically destroys things just by putting them in the same room as herself and a car that is one of the most sophisticated electrical vehicles on the market. But really, it's so obvious, they should make a sitcom about it. Wackiness ensues.
