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Wednesday, 10 December 2003

Car in Crisis

Now Playing: Shut the fuck UP you bloody noisy fucking neighbours from hell - SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Given what a distrustful, obsessive control freak I usually am about anything that matters, I persist in being amazed by the miracle of the motor car.
As a five year old, I ate too much cheese before bedtime once, and dreamt I invented the motor car. It was another 25 years before I figured out what a clutch pedal or gears did, though, despite having a 12 speed bike and a dad who explained the thing every other weekend.

Girly Twat: I was told you sometimes sold second hand cars?
Butchy Man: Yes, but we don't have anything right now.
Girly Twat: (sobbing into the telephone loudly) You don't understand .... I know nothing about cars. You don't know how easy it is to take advantage of me. If you don't promise to help me, I'll lose all my money and get a death trap. Please please help me. (outright lurching heaving sobs)
Ahh but you do understand something about cars, you manipulative minx - you just did nought to hysterical in under four seconds.
Butchy Man: (heavy sigh) Oh okay then, I'll keep an eye out for you.

There's not much that's as disempowering as having a car and knowing absolutely nothing about how it works. The awful thing is my growing propensity -- unheard of in my youth -- to try to girly my way out of it.

Girly Twat: I need to bring my car in for its MOT.
Butchy Man: Okay - It's a Volkswagen .... what?
Girly Twat: Um.
Fucking amazing. Four years of university to accredit that bloody um.
Girly Twat: Golf. Polo? Volkswagen Golf. Polo.
Listen, love, if you're going to lie so blatantly - and it is a blatant lie, you have no fucking idea what that car is - then at least try to stick to a consistent lie. Say Mini Metro. But stick to your story for at least two frigging seconds.
Butchy Man: Which is it?
Girly Twat: It's red.
It's time you did the dishes, sweetpea. Your brain is hurting. Jesus.

I first discovered this technique of being a hopeless loser, but affecting a giggle and short skirt while doing so aged about 25 (I was a late developer in the girly stakes - didn't wear pink till I was 29, and thought I better do it quick before it took on Barbara Cartland hues.) Faced with the fourteenth house move in four years, staring despondently at the huge amount of stuff that I'd piled, homeless, for one fortnight into the flat of an Uncle Charles of someone at work, I swallowed my pride and put on a bright blue mini and stilettos. I picked up one bag and clattered affectedly down the stairs when the removal men arrived. "Sorry, I'm not feeling awfully strong."
Fucking hell, should have tried that years ago... Not only did they move everything without the usual tired recriminations and blackmail, they paid for me to go eat breakfast while they did it, then sorted me out a new flat. Still, the shame of it rankled a little. I mean, it's cheating, isn't it? If you're a dyke.

Butchy Man: So, here's that secondhand motor I rang you about. Look, I'll lift the bonnet for you, okay. There.
Watch it, mate - I know this is a legal requirement, but you're getting pretty technical there. I might faint from the added pressure to my dizzy little head.
Girly Twat: Oooooooh! Is that what they look like inside?
Hey look, at least you didn't shout 'yecch! all dirty!'
Butchy Man: Do you want to test drive it now?
You can just hear the horror in his tone, can't you?
Girly Twat: Oh no, no, no, I can't drive. You'll have to test drive it for me. I'll watch.
What kind of a social fucking retard takes a car for a Test Passenge? A mincing girly twat, that's what.

Considering that I have to call the AA yellow van man out simply to change a tyre on my car, it's a fair miracle that any vehicle of mine has survived the four collisions and six break ins of the past three years since learning to drive.

Girly Twat: Excuse me? You look strong.
Butchy T-shirt Man: (assumes the startled look of a sexual harrassment victim) Unhh?
Yes, you. I'm verbally molesting you in front of your mates. You better come up with the goods, needle dick.
Girly Twat: I can't do this. (wild gesture under car bonnet.) Can you get the lid off this water tank for me? I've been trying for aaages. I hit it with the oil can but I'm too weak to....
Actual real live shame prevented me from finishing that sentence. I'm going to hell.
Butchy T-shirt Man: Grunt. (easily turns lid screw.)
Girly Twat: (bursts into applause and hops) Ooooh, thank you!
Butchy T-shirt Man: (runs)

This page graced by sarsparilla at 9:35 PM GMT
Updated: Wednesday, 10 December 2003 9:40 PM GMT
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Wednesday, 10 December 2003 - 9:55 PM GMT

Name: yidaho
Home Page:

LOL, so you're the blonde that walked into a garage and asked for a seven hundred and ten cap, right?

Wednesday, 10 December 2003 - 10:08 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

I called the AA out and was three hours late for work because the car felt too hot once. And i thought the thing was broken when actually it was the steering lock, too. But the 710 cap is a new one on me....

Wednesday, 10 December 2003 - 11:25 PM GMT

Name: billy
Home Page: you see this is why I want to be a girly - I don't understand cars and I really don't want to either...oh, I understand the mechanics - I *know* how an internal combustion engine works...but that doesn't mean I know what the frick happens under a bonnet :^)...

Wednesday, 10 December 2003 - 11:29 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

As far as I'm concerned, bonnets are so you can go to the shops without taking out your curlers.

Thursday, 11 December 2003 - 1:22 AM GMT

Name: ThePimpress
Home Page:

i really don't know a damned thing about a car other then a) get into drivers seat b) put keys into ignition c) turn (repeat until car has started) d) drive e) shift occasionally. i'm sure the engine is a brilliant piece of engineering but i don't know what gets some guys so bloody excited about the things. were i to break down from say a flat tyre i would wait for butchy repairman to come fix it.

i got out of moving once because i complained of PMS and cramps and things. of course i was nowhere near due for any such thing but it worked and they moved everything about although i recieved no food for my troubles. still i felt bad watching while these poor blokes moved large heavy things around. but not bad enough to actually help.

Thursday, 11 December 2003 - 6:57 AM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Lol! You're going to hell, too, then.

Thursday, 11 December 2003 - 1:27 PM GMT

Name: ThePimpress
Home Page:

i sure am straight to hell, do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

Thursday, 11 December 2003 - 7:36 PM GMT

Name: sarah

good god, that had me laughing out loud. I also play the girly card whenever there's any men around who could do something I can't be bothered to. I even answered the "what type of car is it?" question with "a green one" once. Also called out a plumber solely to take the hoses off the back of the washing machine.

usually, whenever anything goes wrong with my car, the only other people ever around are real girly-girls, who say things like "well, go on then, you lesbian, fix it!" pah.

Thursday, 11 December 2003 - 7:56 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Yeah, for some reason you're supposed to be fascinated by putting up bookshelves as a lesbian, aren't you? That's what I get asked to do all the time, anyway, although nobody asked me to plaster more than once.
I'm fascinated by @#%$! about and eating things, me.

Thursday, 11 December 2003 - 9:03 PM GMT

Name: sarah

I may have been an interior storage specialist when I worked for the Swedish, but I can honestly say I never sat at home and spent my spare time planning the stuff for "fun"


oh good god, I've just sat for five minutes and realised that I'm such a confroming-to-the-stereotype lesbian. When did this happen?

Thursday, 11 December 2003 - 9:38 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Nuh-uhhh, you have long hair. And the tattoo-count is a pre-requisite, as are the mental health issues, surely?

Friday, 12 December 2003 - 5:02 AM GMT

Name: Lux
Home Page:

The last time I had a flat tire, a random guy came over and offered to help my friend and I change it. We thanked him profusely, and afterwards, he said he hoped he didn't offend us by implying we couldn't do it cause we're girls. hahahaha. Yes, I'm always offended when strangers do manual labor for me for free.

Friday, 12 December 2003 - 1:24 PM GMT

Name: Looby

My problem is not knowing anything about cars, *and* not looking that great in a miniskirt.

Friday, 12 December 2003 - 1:47 PM GMT

Name: sarah

mm.. the long hair's about the only thing, although I've seen plenty of big scarey charva-dykes in the town with long hair.

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