Tag Archives: parking

Lions and Tigers and Stupid Little Evil Witches, Oh My!

28 Apr
 It was pouring the other night.  I found the perfect parking spot. Someone stole it.  I tweeted about it:

Notice the “make”?  Do you sense my rage?

I had found the perfect spot, and even though there was no one else in sight, I followed proper parking lot protocol and patiently waited for the spot with my blinker on making sure to give the person pulling out plenty of room. I then congratulated myself on my good fortune. 

 The second that car pulled out, before I even had a chance to take my foot off the brake, some pretty young thing flew into the spot so fast that she had to slam on her breaks in order to avoid a head-on collision with the car parked in front of her.
 
I immediately reacted with a quick, but forceful, beep.  Clearly, the young girl hadn’t seen me waiting for the spot with my blinker on.  I was certain that once she saw my blinker and my “It’s ok, it happens.” smile, she would realize her mistake and humbly back out. These things happen, after all.

So, I beeped and then waited…and waited….and waited.   Nothing.

You know what?  Her car was still running, and she probably just needed a second to accept the fact that she had to find another spot.  That’s fine.  I mean, it would suck to have to walk across the parking lot in this shitty weather.  I felt for her.  But, still.  She needed to move it.  I was already running late.   I better give her another courtesy beep. 

 *Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.*

Oh good!  That got her attention.  Wait.  Did her tail lights just go out?  At the same time?  That’s weird.  Did she just turn her car off?  She did hear me, didn’t she? 

 *BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!*

Then, it hit me.  This little shit wasn’t going to move.  She was going to sit in her car like a scared kitten until I pulled away.  Really?   I can play this game you little hussy.  I have all night, a coffee, and a full tank of gas.  I’m going to wait this shit out.  You better get comfortable.  Maybe order some Jimmy John’s.  I. Am. Not. Moving.

But, I didn’t have all night.  My coffee was getting cold, and gas is really expensive.  So, I turned my blinker off, let off the brake and coasted past the Slutmobile; but not before I gave her two of these:

No, really. F&%K YOU!

If you would have been a fly in my car at that very moment you would have heard the most creative and hateful slam poetry you have ever heard:

P&$$Y BALLS.

MOTHER SHIT.

F&*K !

C&*T DAMN DIE-

ISHP XIST JADSFAL!

*Finger snap.  Finger snap.*

I had time to reflect on my anger as I stood in front of the hand dryer in the women’s bathroom in a feeble attempt to dry the front of my shirt, my shoes, and my hair.  

I’m usually a pretty laid back person.   The rage and hostility I felt in that parking lot was not something I was proud of.  I was especially ashamed of the not one, but two, F&*K OFF’s I had given.

But, you know what?  When that little ho’ bag tw*t nugget stole my parking spot it was as though she climbed in the back seat of her car, positioned herself just so, unbuttoned her slut jeans, pulled down her skanky underwear, spread her ass cheeks, plastered them against the rear window, and made her butthole laugh at me. 

So, yeah.  F&!K her.  Twice.

The Perfect Parking Spot?

10 Feb

**DISCLAIMER**

This post in no way condones or promotes drug use.  It is a parable about how having too much fun as a teenager can cause you to experience flashbacks, pimp slaps, and paranoia as an adult.

I was driving around the Target parking lot for about thirty minutes last night looking for the closest parking spot available because the arctic Wisconsin weather has chilled me to the bone.  I’m cold from the minute I wake up until I go to bed dressed in flannel pajamas, a hooded sweatshirt and wool socks.  I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting older or what, but lately I feel like this cold is literally kicking my a&&.   Every time I step outside it’s like Mother Nature pimp slaps me across the face, puts me in a headlock, punches me in the gut and then kicks me when I’m down while calmly asking “Why do you make me hurt you? ”  Then, I spit out my teeth as blood spatters all over the white snow.  It’s very dramatic.

Anyway, I was driving around the parking lot when I had a major flashback.  Does this happen to you?  It happens to me… a lot.  I can be sitting at work, driving in my car, or just watching T.V., and all of a sudden I’m thinking about an incident from my past, and I relive it all in my head in a matter of seconds.  I usually end up hysterically cracking up, for what appears to be no reason.  I’m sure I  look nuts. 

Yesterday, I flashed back to a warm Spring day in 1993.  I was with my good friend, B, in her tiny a&& Nissan, and I was wearing the standard jeans, t-shirt, flannel, Birkenstocks, black velvet choker necklace combo I was so fond of back then:

B and I had just smoked, and of course, we decided to make ourselves a spaghetti dinner.  We made a shopping list that I’m pretty sure was two pages long, and headed to the store.  The store parking lot was packed that day, and we couldn’t find a spot.  No problem!  We just drove around singing along at the top of our lungs to The Indigo Girls, and laughed….a lot.  After what felt like an hour, but I’m sure was only a couple of minutes, I looked over at B and with a stone (sorry) cold face said to her, “We’ve been driving around for like an hour.  People are starting to notice”.   Also, I was positive there was an undercover cop in the red minivan in front of us. (Paranoia Level Orange.)

It was time to get serious about finding a parking spot.  With the car still running, we sat at the end of  a row facing the store entrance,  turned down the music and scanned the lot for an open spot.  Our paranoia level continued to rise.  Could the lot be completely full?  In the middle of the day? We were sure people were screeching into the lot and purposely cutting in front of us to take every parking spot we saw, and then giving us the finger when they got out.   THEY WERE OUT TO GET US!!! (Paranoia Level Red).

We were just about to give up and walk home  (We couldn’t drive ourselves, because of the undercover cop in the red minivan watching us, remember?) when we both saw the “perfect parking spot”!  It was glorious!  We were saved and we’d be able to make our spaghetti dinner.  I whispered words of encouragement as B inched her tiny car ever so slowly toward the spot near the front of the store, “There you go, B.  Nice and easy.  Don’t go too fast.  You’re doing great.  We’re almost there.”  She pulled into the spot like a pro, and I allowed myself to get excited about the spaghetti dinner, again.  B turned off the car, and we took a minute to laugh about what had just happened. 

Before I opened my door I said a quick prayer,  “Jesus, please let us get the spaghetti and get out of here as soon as possible.  I promise to never smoke again.  Amen.”  Then, I tried to open my door, but it was as though Jesus himself was standing outside of it because I couldn’t open it.  I tried three times before I looked over at B.  She looked like she had just seen a ghost.  “We gotta get the hell out of here.  NOW!”, she yelled.  And then, with a shock to the heart, and my stomach on the car floor, I realized what she was freaking out about. 

The “perfect parking spot” was actually the cart return, and B had just parked her tiny a&& Nissan in it!

I took this particular flashback to be a sign, and left my shopping for another day.  (Paranoia Level Yellow). 

P.S.  This post is very picture-heavy, isn’t it?