Cars. Whoop-dee-freaking-doo.

Dear Sydney,

I don't understand boys' obsessions with cars. Seriously. It really bugs me a whole heck of a lot when they talk about cars to me, too. Do I look like the person that honestly gives a crap about the type of engine your car has?

In my definition, a car is such:

Noun. A transport device that gets you from A to B, equipped with four tires, and spends its entire life drinking gallons of gas, leaving you to spend about every last cent you have on the stupid thing.

And yet, boys will still waste their time to making sure their engine "vrooms" appropriately, and all this other stuff they think will actually impress the ladies with.

I'm not attracted to a guys' car. Honestly. It's your face and personality I'm concerned with. If boys honestly think that yapping their traps about transport devices are gonna make me drool over them, they have another thing coming. Ugh.

Sorry. A boy was just talking to cars about me tonight, so I thought I'd share.

One of the many mysteries of the world, I think. Boys and cars.

That is all.

Love,
Kaylee.