Dashbodorant

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"


This is really an odd question to be so common. Whenever someone asks you what you are doing, and yells it in doing so, chances are, they already know what you're doing. For example:


Situation A: Question is spoken.


"What are you doing?"


"I'm eating spaghetti."


"Oh, I did not know that."


Situation B: Question is shouted.


"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"


"I'm eating spaghetti."


"I KNOW! THAT'S MY SPAGHETTI! GET YOUR DAMN HANDS OFF MY FLEXIBLE NOODLES!"


In this particular situation, I was in Scenario B. I asked what someone was doing, when I knew very well what it was they were doing. Nonetheless, I proceeded to inquire.


"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"


"I'm looking in your car."


"I KNOW! DON'T!"


"Don't look in your car?"


"NO!"


"Why? Why can't I look in your car?"


"JUST DON'T LOOK IN IT, OKAY?"


"Can I look at it?"


"NO!"


"I can't look at your car."


"NO!"


"Well, Natasha, it's a little difficult for me to avoid glancing at the 3,126 - pound object that is sitting outside my house, in my driveway, sitting directly in the path I take to get to my own vehicle."


Now, I'm sure my emotional response to someone glancing in my car window was a little suspicious. You may be thinking, "Who cares? Someone looked in your car window." UH YEAH. How would you feel if you looked outside your bedroom window, and there was someone's face, looking in at you? Rubbing themselves? You may be thinking, "A bedroom window is completely different from a car window." You may be thinking, "If someone looks in your car, they're peering at leather seats. If someone looks in your house, they're peering at you. It's completely different." You may be thinking, "Hold on a second, rubbing themselves? That's completely irrelevant. No one was standing outside of your car rubbing themselves." You may be thinking, "How does Natasha know what I'm thinking?" You may be thinking, "When is she going to stop guessing what I'm thinking?" Unfortunately, I only have a response for two of your thoughts : right now, and no, no one was rubbing themselves - I don't know what made me say that.


EITHER WAY - I've been conditioned to freak out whenever someone approaches my car due to many different past experiences. 


Experience One


KA-POW!


"Please don't kick my car. Leave him out of this, and step away from the vehicle."


Experience Two


"Who's driving?"


"I'll drive!"


"Okay!"
(Door is opened.)


"Uhhh...what'sss....that...smell...."


"You know what, you can drive actually."


Experience Three


"Is that a piece of moldy pizza in your glove compartment?"


Experience Four


"Is that a piece of moldy pizza in your center console?"


Experience Five


"Is that a piece of moldy pizza squished to your steering wheel?"


These are just a few experiences. There are two specific things, however, that constantly get brought up whenever someone sits in my car.


The Mess


"Do you live in your car?"


"What? No."


"But you have pillows in the backseat..."


"Well ---"


"And a blanket..."


"That's for ---"


"And a toothbrush under your seat..."


"I don't use ---"


"And deodorant on your dashboard..."


"It's DashBOdorant, that's what you're supposed to do with it."


"Okay, well what about all the clothes..."


"In case I need to layer."


"And the underwear..."


"In case...I need...to layer...my underwear..."


"You layer your ---"


"CROTCHES GET CHILLY TOO, YA KNOW."


The Smell


"You car reeks!"


"You have no right to say that."


"Yes I do, I have to sit in it!"


"That's funny, because I remember once when a RAT DIED in your car and you couldn't FIND THE BODY and we had to endure the ROTTING STENCH until it decided to go away."


"You car smells even worse. Like ten rats. Dead."


"Ten? More like three. And not rats, mice."


"Three mice?"


"Blind."


"Your car smells like three blind mice?"


"Yep. In a bubble bath."


"That's Rub-A-Dub-Dub, Three Men in a Tub."


"No, my car does not smell like three men in a tub."


"What do three men in a tub even smell like?"


"Sweet Pea..."


"The fragranc---"


"Nis."


Returning to my Scenario, Situation B, I was in no mood to deal with anyone commenting on my car.


"Is that a giant pile of ash below your radio?"


Like that. I was not in the mood to hear that. So I, yet again, tell this person to not look in my car.


"Dad, please don't look in my car."


Yes, I was talking to my dad. WHICH IS WHERE THE ROOT OF THIS ALL STARTED.


It was 2008. Springtime. I had not even turned 18 years old yet. I walk outside my front door, only to run into my father walking toward me from where?


From my car.


"Natasha, I need to talk to you."


"About what?"


"About THIS."


"What...is...."


"A CONDOM, NATASHA."


"Why do you need to talk to me about a condom...?"


"A CONDOM I FOUND IN YOUR CAR."


"Well, it's not mine!"


"WHY DO YOU HAVE A CONDOM IN YOUR CAR."


"I don't know how it got there! Even if it was mine, it's not like it was used. It's still in the package!"


"WHY DO YOU HAVE A CONDOM IN YOUR CAR."


"I'm sure---"


"WHY DO YOU HAVE A CONDOM IN YOUR CAR."


"Dad---"


"WHY DO YOU HAVE A CONDOM IN YOUR CAR."


"I've never even had sex! I'm sure someone was in my car and just dropped it!"


"WHO WOULD HAVE A CONDOM WITH THEM."


"Any teenage boy..."


"I just hope you are not having sex."


"Dad, I'm not."


"I'm just looking out for you."


"I know, Dad. But please don't search through my car."


After The Rubber Run-In came The Marlboro-Misunderstanding.


It was 2008. Again, springtime, shortly after the condom incident.


"WHAT IS THIS NATASHA."


My dad had come into my bedroom, full-handed. When I had heard "this," I was expecting precisely that - a "this." As in something singular. As in one thing. What he should have said was, "What are these."


There he stood, in my room, holding not one, not two, not three or four, but five packs of cigarettes. Plus two lighters.


"I FOUND THIS IN YOUR CAR."


"Dad, I told you not to go in my car!"


"ARE YOU SMOKING."


"Why did you go in ---"


"ARE YOU SMOKING."


"Dad, you ---"


"ARE YOU SMOKING."


"No! Well, sometimes. But those aren't mine! I smoke a cigarette every once in awhile, but I don't have FIVE packs of cigarettes just to give me options! I don't even buy them; I just bum from other people! Let me see those."


He holds them up even higher than they had already been positioned in the air. Three packs in one hand, and two in the other - along with the two lighters.


"Uhhh..."


"NATASHA."


"The Reds are Jimmy's, the Smooths are Chris's, the Lights are James's. The Turkish Royals are Caroline's and that pack of cloves? I have NO idea whose those are."


"I don't want you smoking."


"I know."


"I'm just looking out for you."


"I know, Dad. But please don't search through my car."


"Alright."


Then he places all 5 packs on my dresser, plus the two lighters, and leaves my room.


And this is exactly why I become paranoid whenever someone looks in my car. A lot of the time, I don't even have anything in there that would upset anyone. But sometimes, just sometimes, you might just find a moldy piece of pizza.