"I now firmly believe that there is a Chevy god that is punishing me for my blasphemy, and that I must repent. And grovel. Lots of groveling. 
".
I dunno, man. I just don't see you doing the whole groveling part really well. LMAO!!
HA! 'Lot you know. You should see me trying to get laid on a Saturday night around here. I have taken groveling to an art form that shames the Renaissance painters.
Well, I gave it another shot last night. Going for broke, I took an actual shower with real soap and everything. Geez. More strikes than a baseball shutout. I don't get it. I'm a talented guy... I can beg for cootchie in four languages: English, Spanish, Nahuatl, and White Trash. I have dollar bills strategically poking out of my shirt pocket. I offer to buy the chicks a PBR. Maybe even two for the hot ones. I keep my third member hanging outside my zipper so the goods can be appraised ahead of time. I mean, how much more accommodating can a guy get?
I'm missing something here.
