there's a recall on my car because apparently the steering column on my model has been known to burst into flames. now, this i don't need. as if i didn't have enough fire hazards in my car already, what with the styling products in my hair, the lit cigarette dangling from my mouth, and the jug of kerosene i like to carry around in the passenger seat for emergency situations that call for one jug of kerosene... and a pipecleaner. always got to carry around a few pipecleaners.

i can see it now. i'm driving to an awards ceremony given in my honor. the weather is 80 degrees and sunny, and i'm wearing a beautiful purple gown that also happens to have the flammability of chicago during 1871. practicing my speech in the rear view mirror, i am just getting to the part where i thank all the little people out there who allowed me to step on them on my glorious journey to the top... of what i don't know, but let's say it's in a field that involves both irrigation and linguistics... when i accidentally beep the horn. "oops," i say, when suddenly the whole front of my car explodes. see, just a simple beep of the horn had knocked a few of those frayed, shoddily arranged wires together in such a fashion that me and my car become a homogenous mixture of "fireball" in under 5.9 seconds. my beautiful purple gown is ruined. my eyebrows have burned off my face, which is alarming in itself- but even more so alarming when you realize that EVERYTHING has burned off, and the girl you once called "jackie" is now just a fiery pile of ash coming to rest against the trunk of an elm tree which happens to reside in a school yard. and all of the watching children will later need therapy to get over the sight.

the recall letter gave me a number to call. it's sitting in my car right now, and will probably be destroyed in the fire, along with my map and sun glasses.