11.22.2005

You want stupid? oh man, have I got one for you

Today...by 8am I had done something so stupid it's beyond imagination. I was wondering if in honor of my stupidity you could relate to us one of the stupidest things an author, editor, etc has done in your general direction.

Oh, I'll do you one better. I'll give you a story of Miss Snark doing something so stupid that family members STILL remind her of it YEARS later.

Back when Miss Snark managed to snag a sheepskin and matriculate from an institution of higher learning (bribes are not tax deductible; did you know that?), she decided to bestow her presence on the world. Traveling with a bevy of friends Miss Snark embarked upon the Grand Tour. London, Paris, Venice, the fleshpots of the Casbah...Miss Snark was ready for anything.

While in London, the idea arose that instead of gadding about on stuffy old rail cars, the Snark Ensemble would ...drive. Yes indeed. In a right hand drive vehicle. Well. Arrangements were made, a vehicle secured, permits stolen, and off we went in style. Those round abouts in Britain were quite the adventure..who knew you were supposed to stop?? We thought the Brits were a tad vocal in their welcoming..turns out that "you bloody twit of a girl" doesn't mean "hi let's get a beer at the nearest pub" even when it's said in plummy tones.

So, the adventure continues. We motor about England. Then, the idea dawns that really, we could just drive over to France too. So we do. On a Sunday no less.

We zip off the ferry in France. France! Land of cheese, snooty waiters and DIOR!! We're all a'twitter. Then we realize the car is not just a'twitter, it's a'shakin. We need petrol and soon.

We motor up the road and find a petrol station. Miss Snark leaps out and gazes at the pumps. Mind you, she's been studying French since she was a pup, and can read not only novels but nuances of the sneers of French waiters.

She pumps the petrol, pays the French version of Trixie the Truckstop waitress, leaps back into LeCar and speeds off into the French countryside in pursuit of adventure. Marvelleux.

Soon it becomes apparent something is very very wrong. LeCar is having le last gasp. It is shaking more than Killer Yapp at a Doberman poker parlor. Le Car is clearly les miserable.

We limp into the next ville. We just happen to see a sign "Renault" and we are driving a Renault. Huzzah. Into the repair shop we go. We climb out of the car like clowns at Ringling Brothers. The grizzled grease monkeys with unlit Gauloise hanging from their sneering lips eye us like we're cherry tarts fresh from Le Frigidaire.

Miss Snark steps up to the plate. In all her years at Miss Muffet's Finishing School for Girls, automotive repair has never been on the French vocabulary quiz. No matter. "Ma voiture est malade," Miss Snark smiles. "Aidez-moi, s'il vous plait?".

The Gallic grease monkeys drop their gauloise and their sneers and laugh uproariously. But by god, they gather round and through various combinations of French, English, note paper and drawings that could be in the abstract expressionist wing at the Met, it is determined that Miss Snark has, oh yes, filled Le Car with Le Diesel.

Diesel of course is toxic on normal engines. And that they sell it at the pump next to regular and unleaded is clearly madness, but they do. And Miss Snark had never realized that Gazoil is French for "diesel". Well, now she knows.

And so does Amex who paid the freight on that little repair. Cost me two pairs of Manolos to fix the damn thing.

Estupide? Certainment.

And of course, whenever Miss Snark needs to be brought down a peg or two by her nearest and dearest DNA pool party mates, they simply say "gazoil" and Miss Snark is crushed into silence.

14 comments:

Kimi said...

Thanks for the story Miss Snark! :) It did exactly what I needed it to do.

Btw...I'm such a sad snarkling convert these days I repeated smack my Update Feed button to see if you've written more. I don't know if that's sad or says something about how cool you are. :)

~~Olivia said...

Great story!

Anonymous said...

OMG!!! I know your identity! The same exact thing happened to me and a pal while motoring in France! We've lost touch over the years, but I'm now off to google her this instant and discover that she is Ms. Snark. (or maybe that happens more than you'd think!)

Bernita said...

Miss Snark, have you ever read "Our Hearts Were Young and Gay?"
One of their escapades was to mistake a brothel for a hotel.

Le Rayon Vert said...

Mlle. Snark: Vous etes hilariux, vraiment - et toujours! Je suis en ecstase quand je lit votre blog. Merci bien et heureux Thanksgiving Americain a Dakota Nords.

Votre Snarkling favorit

Yzabel said...

Thanks for the story, it reminded me my first use of a pump, when I happily poured unleaded into my tank without knowing that my car was too old to stand it. The Yzmobile was pretty miserable as well after that, even though it wasn't destructive as gasoil. (Funny, I've always thought gasoil was one of these somewhat-English words we use, like parking or burger. Something standing for "gas oil"--stupid, I know.)

the chocolatier said...

You really shouldn't be so embarassed. I've done far worse.

Beth said...

Mademoiselle Snark, you may be the greatest agent since the invention of gin, but truly, your talents are wasted. You are...a writer! A funny writer! Dave Barry move over.

Beth, wiping tears away

Tim Bete said...

When my brother was about six, he filled our dad's gas tank with water from the garden hose. I think locking gas caps were invented because of the incident.

Tim Bete
www.TimBete.com

Miss Snark said...

Well Chocolatier....feel free to fess up!! I'm always prepared to laugh at a good banana peel story!!

the chocolatier said...

I have so many I don't even know where to begin so I guess I'll just stick with the theme of forgein road trips. I shamefully admit that this happened only three months ago.

My cousin and I had been planning to go on a road trip for as long as I can remember, so when she got her license this summer, we dutifully hit the road.

We decided to drive from Chicago to Maine, then down the east coast, so that we could go under the pretense of 'visting colleges'.

We spent the first three day having a fiesta in the car. No sleep. Just caffine, premium Russian vodka and the big golden M. We laughed, learned to snort the premium with rolled up soda lids and chain-smoked using the gasoline fumes.

But at the end of the third day, at the New Hampshire border, we decided that we should probably crash somewhere or we would end up crashing the car, so Alynn told me to get out the map and find the nearest holiday inn or equivilant.

I find a Hilton on the atlas and we both have a giggle about Paris' fake boobs and how she should have gone for the old-fashioned method of pudding in ballons, and we drove on. For hours.

Finally Alynn, turns to me and asks, 'Are we almost there?'

The emergency gas light has been on for 45 minutes.


'Yea, I think so. We've been on this road ages. Look for Phoenix, should be on your right.'

Silence. Then, 'Phoenix!?'

'Yea.'

'GIVE ME THE MAP!'

I'm beginning to feel self-concious, so I hug the atlas against my chest, 'You're driving.'

'GIVE IT TO ME!'

We have a short toussel and she wins by threatening to drive the car off the bridge. I give in. Alynn is crazy bitch.

She looks at it, her breath becomes rather ragged and she shoves it under my nose, 'What does it say?'

I look, swallow hard. It says: New Mexico.

We arrived at the Hilton in style, at 4:44am, pulled along by our very own tow-truck.

domynoe said...

Btw...I'm such a sad snarkling convert these days I repeated smack my Update Feed button to see if you've written more.

You can just put her on kinja. That's what I do! (And, man, does she take over right quick!)

Sal said...

I use bloglines to track my blogs of interest.

My only problem is that bloglines notifies me of Miss Snark's updates but doesn't track new comments to a comments thread. So there I be, deep into a multi-piece comments thread, looking for new comments: clickety clickety click.

Miss Snark said...

Well Chocs, I know what to get YOU for Christmas :::thumbing the Rand McNally "learn your states" game:::

I am still laughing!
New Mexico!!