Thursday, January 19, 2006

shameless commerce

It's true. I want you to buy things from me. I want to sell you t-shirts and bumper stickers and coffee mugs.


Not for the money (although lord knows, money almost never hurts anyone, unless you pull it out from under a precariously balanced school bus full of summer school kids)

For the approval. Because you hit "purchase" and I think "People actually agree with me." "People value what I have to say." "People want to dress like Madonna."


It's shallow. But it's still important. Like Angelina Jolie and George Bush and podcasting.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

My kingdom for an oil change

The old Volvo needs an oil change. This, in itself, is not a big deal. I could do it at Jiffy Lube for $20 and be done with it. Only I have this sneaking suspicion that the wheels are going to fly off or the brakes are going to fail or the transmission is on the verge of total replacement- so I'm taking it to the dealer.

I know. I'm an idiot. It's a $900 car and I spend $100 getting the oil changed - and getting the bad news that I should really sink another $1200 into it to keep it safe. My car is like my house: a money pit. The good news is, I'm only about $1800 into my car Replacing the front door alone would max that number. I do that becasue I have this obligation to keep the car safe because I occasionally use it to pick up my boy, and coming to a stop is no longer a maybe/maybe-not kind of option.

Actually, it's a good thing I have the little sticker on the windshield that gives you the approximate date for your next oil change, because my odometer is on the fritz. (Is this legal?) The odometer thing sucks because I am very close to passing the 200K mile mark (and joining the 200K club), but I am no longer registering my daily commute. All told, I probably put about 500 miles on my car this year - but the odometer says I put 160.


Either way, I love that silly car. And when it dies I'll buy another one just like it, only maybe a wagon - so I can stick my dog in it without having to endure the nose-in-the-ear thing on every trip to the vet.