Dear Robot.I am so not going to send you a magical unicorn dolphin that sheds rainbow sparkles and can grant you wishes, because you probably wouldn’t even read the instructions that came with it and so it would be totally wasted on you. Well, I’m not sending you one because of that and the fact that you’re obviously a robot, who just searches for key words and responds to them via some tragically complicated algorithm, instead of sending the emails to helpful humans, who can read, and who will read the questions that your customers send in and then actually reply to those questions that are full sentences. Oh, and, also, because magical unicorn dolphins don’t exist. Sorry, Robot!
I have a Honda Civic named Baby and when the power going to the radio goes out, I have to enter my secret radio code. This is a security “feature” so that no one will steal my crazy-awesome stock radio that plays up to one(!) CD at a time and allows me to pre-set up to 18 radio stations (6 of them AM).
I lose power to the radio more frequently than I would have ever thought and most of the time, I’ve misplaced my secret radio code and have had to wait for myself to locate said Secret Radio Code for weeks on end, which would be more annoying if it made my car anything more than silent or was anybody’s fault but my own. However, since one of my favorite things to do is rock out* in my car, losing my Secret Radio Code is seriously life impacting.
Anyway, my Secret Radio Code is 66643. If you can’t remember, “66643,” you should know that the Secret Radio Code is, also, printed in silver nail polish on the inside of my trunk. I’ll probably never lose the code, again, now that I’ve got myself a sexy little contingency plan, but a girl can never be too prepared!
* by rock out, I mean sing musical theater as clearly and loudly as I can while using my diaphragm properly, practicing my breath-work, clearly enunciating and properly emoting.