last night, i watched "my life without me," which is basically the kind of movie that nobody should watch alone, expecially if they're pre-menstrual. i didn't time my crying, but it had to go on for at least fifty-six minutes. this is a beautiful, sad, heartwrenching movie. it recieves the jackie award for two kleenexes up. soggy kleenexes, that is.

i have to take harriet in for an emissions test today. harriet is my car. she's lovable and scrappy, modest and dependable. she likes the same music i do, and she doesn't mind stowing away my empty fast food bags and coffee cups. she likes to go everywhere i like to go, shuddering only a little bit when i wear her out on certain days. i know she's not going to be happy to go get her emissions tested. "jackie," she'll say, "do you ever notice that all the people who work here.... are kind of scummy?"

"it's not so bad," i'll reassure her. "if you're good, maybe i'll splurge for the mid-grade gas next week."

harriet is getting old. they give her "special" oil now. really, the special oil is the same crap as the regular oil, only it costs twenty bucks more. harriet enjoys the illusion of luxury, though. she says she wants to enter her retirement in style. i'm afraid to tell her, though, that retirement won't be a gold watch and a condo in florida- it'll be the victory auto wreckers, where she'll be pillaged for parts and peed in by vagrants. which is just as well, because, being a car, it would be difficult to write out the check for the condo. never mind not having a wrist for the watch.