I'm, like, such a girl.

For the better part of two (maybe three) months, I’ve been driving my car with the washer fluid low light on. I can assure you I wasn't ignoring the little illuminated icon. It wasn’t flagrant disregard for the inner workings of the Nissan. And it's certainly not because I like rolling around in a dirty car.

I just can’t get the hood open. I have the washer fluid and everything, but I have no idea where the hood release is. And believe me, I’ve looked.

It’s not near the trunk release. It’s not near the gas cap release. It’s not anywhere logical. (I did, however, realize that my car has one of those built-in sunglass holders that pops down from the ceiling, so that’s neat.) I mean, I know it’s a Japanese car, but it’s like you have to be part ninja to get under the hood.

Now I’m completely out of washer fluid. The well is dry. Empty. And that little light on my dashboard is just mocking me.

Good one, cute little washer fluid icon. Because this salty, sludgy time of year is the perfect time to run out of washer fluid.

There are only so many times you can pull into a gas station to use the squeegee without filling up. (That’s kind of an ass move.) Also, putting a little Windex on a paper towel and thinking, “Eh, I’ll just wipe it off before I get in the car”? That’s a terrible idea. A terrible, streaky, turn-the-dirt-on-the-windshield-into-a-sticky-paste idea.

Someone suggested taking the car to an oil change place and just having them refill the washer fluid. Which I’m considering. But I’m pretty sure the second I do that, they're just going to look at me as one of those girls.


(The whole clip is great, but you really only need to watch from 1:16 on to get the point.)

Those girls who can't kill a bug with more than six legs. The kinds who turn down shots of Jameson. The girls in Ugg boots. The ones who can't figure out how to release the hood of the car they've been driving for the last two and a half years.

Eh, well. Here's to reinforcing stereotypes.