Monday, March 22, 2004
Dear Saturn, Walmart, Mississippi Delta, and related parties,
First, thanks for making my car environmentally sound and all. Really, I appreciate it. I like driving along on my two-lane cotton field infested highways knowing that I'm getting fantastic gas mileage and that if I had an unfortunate incident with a gigantic truck, deer, school bus, alien, etc, that my excess of safety features would keep me in one vaguely-Heather-shaped piece.But when it comes to my goddamned oil filter, and the fact that I have to go to Walmart for an oil change because no one else in this area will even think about touching my car, I'd like to kick you in your little smartly-advertised balls. Because apparently even though the people at Walmart SAY they know how to change my oil with its tricky oil filter, they aren't necessarily truthful.
Lucky for you, Saturn, cute little baseball cap wearing Adrian was there this afternoon to inform me that I'd been driving for 5200 miles with my oil filter all out-of-whack, so much so that oil had gotten all up in grooves and crevices of my DAMN ENVIRONMENTALLY SOUND oil-filter-holdy-thingie. But Adrian, cute sweet wonderful Adrian, let me sit in my car and search through my old paperwork so that he could figure out the guy who did it incorrectly in the first place and promptly bitch him out while he spent no less than twenty minutes scrubbing and cleaning my filter-cap-thingie back to its shiny Saturn self.
Saturn, I'm kinda pissed off. Greenville Walmart, you can go jump off a cliff. (Lucky for you, we're in the freaking Delta and cliffs are kinda hard to come by.) Adrian, I'd totally marry you and you could fix my car all the time, and we'll have lovely little light-skinned babies.
3000 Miles to go before more impending bullshit,
The Magnolia (with much respect to Zelda)
Heather at 6:13 PM
