Don�t feel bad, believe the stereotype, because I�m telling you now, the stereotype is TRUE. It�s there for a reason, people don�t just make up stereotypes, they come along after many similar experiences with certain �groups� of people. Car Dealers are unctuous little bastards. Vocab word of the day, �unctuous�. Defined, this word means excessively ingratiating: attempting to charm or convince somebody in an unpleasantly suave, smug, or smooth way. It stems from a word used to describe anything oily or greasy. You get the picture. I use this word to describe anyone who seems as if they might do just about anything to slick their way through a situation.

Anyway, why the harsh judgment Barb? Well, I went back into the dealer yesterday to sign over the title of the car that I traded in. My old car is officially owned by my father, so his signature was needed. Colin (it�s pronounced �Collin�, but I found the English version�s spelling of his name to be exceptionally apropos. Seems more likely that it would be pronounced as �colon�. Hee hee. But I digress. So I tell him, �I�ll just bring it to my father, have him sign it, and bring it back tomorrow.� But no, that means more time before a deal is completely closed to this guy. So he says, �How well can you forge your father�s signature?� Ahem, WHAT? I may not be the most scrupulous person I know, but come ON here. It reminded me of the day we actually bought the car, filling out paperwork, and my father couldn�t remember a certain address, the sales guy said, �Just make one up, it doesn�t matter, as long as the box is filled in.�

My dad looked at me with one of those can-you-fucking-believe-this-guy? expressions and made some phone calls until he got the right address for the form. So anyway, back to yesterday. I smiled, and with my most sincere and patronizing tone, said, �Gee, Colin, I just don�t feel comfortable blatantly forging my father�s signature for that title. How about I give him a call and see what he says?� Colin said, �If I leave the room, and come back and it�s just signed, I know nothing.� Jesus! SUH-LIMY. Spoke with my dad, he said go for it, it�s not like they give a shit and it�ll save us time, and just for the record, Colin was in the office, and watched as I forged my father�s name. Ick. Formalities and deception. I felt dirty. Okay, not really, but I did feel like, �Hey! I�m more moral than someone else! Yay! Maybe I won�t be alone in Hell after all!�

Had a lovely dinner with my dad and my sister Jenny. Italian food, wine, laughs, love. Driving home, my father hands me a plastic bag and says, �I don�t know why she felt the need to give this to me to give to you, but here � your PlayGirl magazine. Mom gave it to me with some bills before she left for New York.� Hmm? Come again? He looked at me, almost expecting an explanation of some sort. I said, �Listen, Dad. I live in Hillcrest. Having these as my coffee table magazines keeps me very popular with the local boys I know and love so much.� He just laughed and handed it over. And my sister and I had quite a feast with August�s PlayGirl of the month. Brazilian hottie! And tomorrow�s a holiday. Can the week get any better? Done with the car stuff, got my new naked man-mag, and a day off in the middle of the week. Yes, I think I will be having a drink tonight.

Happy 4th! I like to call it, Independence Day. Because I�m an Independent Woman. That�s why.

-Barbarella

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