Whenever there is something very important to be done, how is it that Youtube's most pathetic videos become cinematic glory and the molded piece of cheddar in your fridge looks like artisan cheese that you must melt over an omelette right this very minute? So was the succession of events this morning as I dawdled for an hour and a half fussing over my hair, tidying up around the house all in an attempt to avoid the one thing I hate more than anything else: going to the car dealership.
Swearing myself off, I threw on a pair of heinous jeans, swiped on some mascara (read: more time wasted), and trudged over. I can't decide whether it is the pot bellied salesman with oily hair trying to swindle me out of $200 (what the HECK is a "chassis" and "ball joint") or the lobby's combination of grade D 90's music, cheap leather chairs that smell like cigarettes, and the fake blonde screaming into her phone about her "super important job". Add on top of that a crackly speaker mic you can't hear your name being called from and overpriced vending machines that sell pinapple/hot sauce chips. So here I am. Hurrah.
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