I consider myself a moderate feminist. I'm all for equal pay for equal work, but when it comes to fixing anything mechanical or killing bugs, I revert into a helpless female.
Amanda and I spent the whole day watching "The Office" and random things on E! It was a pretty uneventful day, save the glass baking dish that exploded in my oven, but that's a different story. So, about 7:30, when she went out to head to Bartlesville... dead battery.
I've lived alone for a decade and have never learned to deal with car issues. So I called my only Siloam friend, Lindsay, and asked to borrow her husband's jumper cables. We brought them back to my house and I remembered that it's extremely dangerous to use those things if you don't know what you're doing. Yeah, there were instructions, but I was nervous nonetheless. Thankfully two guys walked out of my neighbor's house and I played the girl card. "Excuse me, do you guys know how to use these?" (Note to chicks: I've discovered if you act helpless, men won't just tell you how to use them, they'll do it for you.)
So we went to Auto Zone at 8:30 to get a new battery. Amanda learned well. She told the poor guy, "Um, I don't know how to install a battery." I'm sure he wasn't shocked, but he put it in for her. Good as new.
I'm sure Gloria Steinem would be ashamed of us for using our womanly wiles. But I don't care. Fair or not, when it comes to car problems, I've got no issue playing the chick card. Works every time.
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Do you think his first hint was when I said that we "jumper cabled" the car? Oh, life, you are a big bag of potatoes.
P.S. Knock me up. If you knock me up, I'll never stop. Maybe that is what Jagger really wanted to say.
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