Shiny! And, like, ow.

So I spent yesterday participating in what I believe to be a common American male pastime - I waxed my car by my very-own-self. Actually, I should rephrase. Yesterday I spent what I think some men consider a Valid Way To Fritter Away an Afternoon but what I would categorize as Seemingly Eternal Agony With a Side of Shoulder Pain Dear GOD. BUT! My car is shiny! and new looking! a sparkly! and red again! I was only a bathing suit and burger away from being Paris Hilton in that Carl's Junior commercial! You're welcome for that visual on a Monday morning. You're either going, "YEAH MAMA!" or wondering if you can get an STD from watching a video on YouTube. I think they make a cream for that.

I decided to take on this God-forsaken task by myself because the owner of the car wash place had the audacity to suggest that he could take my oxidized car from dull to shiny for the mere sum of $300. I blanched at this. It's a small car! How long could waxing something the size of a SHOE BOX take? Plus BCBG was having a sale, so, like, no.

Six hours, it would appear. Six hours of my life that I will never have back. And as I flung my desperate and limp body back towards the house - where I barely missed being run over by my neighbor who, insensitively, did NOT offer to drive me the last 10 feet to my front door but instead honked and swerved as she veered past me and out of the driveway (whore) - I thought to myself that car-waxers might be the most underpaid and under-appreciated members of the automotive industry. Or at least I think that's what I thought. My right shoulder was screaming at me with such vigor that it was hard to hear anything until I poured that bottle of vodka down my throat - for medicinal purposes, naturally. The rest of the weekend is somewhat hazy as a result.

I would love for the moral of this story to be the uplifting power of doing something yourself. But really, if we're looking for a moral here I think it might be to just let the experts do their job - let's not even talk about [myhourlyrate x sixhours = morethan$300]. I'm not a math genius. Eleventeen! But seriously. My car. It's shiny. You should come see it. Also, I think I'm still drunk.