Friday, February 1, 2008

The Face of Valentine's Day Past

If I could put a face with my past Valentine's Days, this would be it: The mug of David Hasselhoff. When someone mentions his name I chuckle. It's not always audible, but it's there. I found this image on photobucket.com. I was searching for humorous Valentine's Day graphics. Do you think if the Hoff had been clairvoyant he still would have done Baywatch and cheesey covers of 70s tunes for Germans to love? Yeah, I think he would have, too.

The Man-cub and I ventured out into the snow so my car could be checked by my mechanic. What I thought was the transmission icon glowing on the panel was actually the 'check engine' symbol. After 3 hours of sitting in the waiting area, I was informed that my car is putting out more pollution than desired. However, it's not a crucial repair. It's highly recommended ($400. minimum estimate). Al Gore might come give me a mighty bitch-slap for not having it done this very second. Since I don't live in an area where emissions tests are mandatory, I am safe for the time being. Whew! I nearly cried right there on the faux micro-suede couch. I wonder if the cute general manager of the place would have consoled me?

I'm having my car serviced where I made my purchase. I get a 25% discount in doing so. With the potential costly repair looming, I might take it for a second opinion. We'll see.
You're curious about the cute GM, aren't you? He's a nice fella who always asks if he can get me anything while I wait. He has no idea what a loaded question that is to a single woman of 42 -- really single. However, I am coy and politely reply with a big smile and a "no thanks, I'm fine."
Today he did inquire about what brought me in for service. I wish I could be shamelessly brazen and ask him if he'd personally check under my hood or breathlessly declare, "my chassis needs lubricating... would you like to help me?'
I'm sure as adorable as he is that he has an equally fine girlfriend or wife lurking about. I always respond without making it apparent that his presence makes me mentally gurgle like an overheated radiator. Oh! and of all days for me to go rushing out of the house without make up or my hair done. Vanity is a cruel thing. I do feel that he spoke to me quite a bit more than in my former visits. Maybe the lack of make-up made me more approachable. More likely the lack of face paint was a cue to boost a poor, pathetic soul's ego.

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