A CONFESSION

The great thing about writing to my blog is that it can be cathartic at times. I can get things off my chest and generally feel better afterwards. This post is one of those times.

In all my years of driving a car, I have only pumped my own gas twice. I can’t even remember what the hell you do when you’re finished pumping your gas. I know if the station is old, you go in and pay. Do ya tell the guy what pump you’re at? Does he know how much you need to pay? I sure as hell don’t know.

If the gas station is new, I know that there are instructions at the pump so you can pay with debit or credit card right at the pump.

The whole point is that pumping gas is a very foreign activity to me. You might be asking why. Well, there are two main reasons. First, I don’t own a car, never had and probably won’t for a long time. When you don’t own a car, you usually don’t need worry about car related things like changing the oil and or buying wiper fluid. It’s the same reason why I don’t need condoms.

Now, you might be asking if I’ve ever borrowed my parents’ cars. You bet your ass I have. Now you might be thinking that I’m a pretty bad son for not once filling up the tank when I’ve driven my parents’ cars. Well, you’d be wrong, I’ve gassed up both my parents’ cars more times than I can count. Here’s the twist though. Everyone of those times I’ve gassed up, I did it in Coquitlam. Coquitlam just happens to have a by-law where every gas station in the city must full service. Not self-serve and full service, only full service. Someone has to pump your gas for you. There is no other option in Coquitlam.

So, those are the two reasons why I have no idea what to do at a self-serve gas station. Phew, I feel better now.

P.S. Try reading the post again, except replace “pumping gas” with “having sex”. It’s fun that way as well.

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