car tales

why are there only seven sins in the world?
seven is too little, isn't it? for i've discovered the eighth deadly sin:

underarm hair.

i've always went with the notion that smoooooth should be the only acceptable situation.
but somehow, somewhere, someone will always vehemently disagree with everything i say.

anyways, the fella who disagreed was - you guessed it - a total bush city.
it was so dense i could practically bounce into it and earn not even the slightest scratch.
of course, underarm hair are hardly big enough for someone of human propoertions to dive into, but that was just a figure of speech.

anyways, enough with the disgusting stuff already. i've digressed, too.

i've driven the family car for the 6th, 7th, 8th, or 9th time (i can't remember) already and dad tells me he feels comfortable with me behind the wheel.

now isn't that such a neat compliment? it's not everyday someone tells you he's comfortable with your driving, and it's definitely better than having people holding on to the seatbelt so tightly you wonder if the seatbelt's got enough ventilation.

but i think, the best compliment i'd like to receive would be:

"you drive like a man."

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