Blue Baby Needs a Makeover

Today I detailed my car.

Which for me, just means I washed her really well, inside and out. I actually had some thoughts for a post about the sexual implications of washing your car...how you know all the blemishes intimately and must take great attention to detail in order for the washing to be truly effective. Etc... But I won't go there completely. I plan to keep this blog all-ages appropriate, so there's a bit of a teaser for you. I'll go more in detail if you care to ask me sometime. (Thank goodness I'm about to leave for Germany Tuesday. Maybe people will have forgotten to ask by the time I return in August.)

Anyways...what I did notice about my sad precious was that she is in desperate need of a makeover.

First, a bit of history. I got my Volkswagen Jetta (that's right...she's German) at the end of my Junior year of highschool. After more than a year of rocking the soccer-mom-minivan, my parents upgraded me to my pretty. Really, giving me a new car was a huge deal because we've never really had the money to do that sort of thing, and I really wasn't pushing for it. Long-story short, I now own my full-on dream car. She's exactly what I wanted, and I completely didn't deserve her (there's a salvation analogy for you..) I gave her a name, Blue Baby, which holds less meaning than Stanislavski to a twenty-two year old trailer-park mother of three for anyone reading this. Another one of those ask-me-later things.

Well Blue Baby is now nearing the ripe old age of 39 (considering the turn-over rate of American automobiles, I feel that they should be aged in months...at least till further notice when someone comes up with a formula for "car years"). Despite her newfound home in LA...or perhaps because of it, she's starting to show some flaws: a key scratch here, a ding there, and so forth. Clearly, these are all purely cosmetic. But this is LA. And I'm starting to feel that with the proliferation of high definition television and Botox, she could use a bit of work. I'm not talking major plastic surgery or anything...just a few minor procedures here and there.

It's funny how these things don't seem so visible until you pull out the magnifying mirror or someone captures a candid shot from an awkward angle. Yet another post topic.

Alas, being a poor college student, I will have to save and wait patiently until I have the opportunity to clean her up some. It's too bad that I can't throw her a birthday party and collect gift money...or write to Oprah to have these things taken care of. For now, I guess the best case scenario is to stick to dark corners, Blanche-style...or see if anyone has come up with a good concealer. I'll try Google.