I Have a Suggestion...

Sooo, earlier this week, I took my car in the dealership so that they could fix a leaky sunroof that was covered under warranty. Fair enough. Stupidly, I agreed to also have the 85,000 mile service while I was there... Next thing I know, Harold, Mr. VM Repairman, is calling to explain the $3,000+ worth of repairs he recommends for my car. My eyes glazed over right around the point when Harold mentioned my collapsed struts and a crooked rotor valve engine coolant hose. Or something. Fortunately for me, I have a husband. This, as you may or may not know, means that I am hereby excused from making any and all car repair decisions...in perpetuity. Or something.

{I cannot even begin to explain how much this sign pains me. The missing punctuation, the random capitalization...I find it truly upsetting.

I reminded Harold that I am just a silly, little woman and he best call my husband. Tom was able to ascertain which repairs were necessary to avoid certain fiery death precipitated by rotor valve engine coolant hose malfunction or other such vehicular disaster. Apparently, preventing the Jetta from becoming a silver, German death mobile costs exactly $942. Better than Harold's original estimate, but still...another reminder of why getting to choose your own bedtime is sometimes just not a worthwhile trade-off for all the other nonsense that comes with being a grown-up.

Anyway, all of this is just to explain why I was sitting, rather grumpily, in the waiting room at the Volkswagen service center. Now, thankfully, I had brought my own reading material because that which was provided by VW was somewhat lacking...

~Musical Interlude~

Ice Ice Baby. Vogue. Hold On. Opposites Attract. Rhythm Nation. Pump Up the Jam. We Didn't Start the Fire. Love Shack. The Humpty Dance.

Now, I chose these songs not only for their timeless appeal, but also because they were number one hits during the year in which the magazines so thoughtfully offered by Volkswagen were printed. That year also happens to be the year that my youngest sister was born.

{This is my youngest sister now. She is old enough to live in Spain. Without parental supervision!}

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against 1990, clearly it brought great things like Midge and the Humpty Dance. It's just that...well, I feel like reading material that was published in the last decade is not too much to ask from an organization that sees no problem with charging $356 to install a $60 part.

Lest anyone suspect that I am exaggerating...

{Remember Jasmine Guy and A Different World, aka Denise Huxtable Goes to College? Classic programming.}


{I wasn't even into double digits yet when this thing came out.}

I felt like some sort of time traveling anthropologist flipping through this thing. There was the cover story on skiing that made me incredibly grateful that fluorescent lycra is no longer a thing.

Then there were the advertisements. Remember L.A. Gear?

So, to sum up, the Volkswagen dealership has really old magazines, and they should be able to afford better what with my $1,000 tune-up.