ARMED WITH AN INK PEN

As we all know, this city sucks for a lot of reasons. The number one reason on my list this week, though, is the goddamned pretend-a-cop parking enforcement. Not intelligent or in shape enough to become actual defenders of our domain, these are the assholes who crave positions of power so badly that they will walk up and down the streets in shitty weather wearing polyester, giving us tickets for various reasons. In my case, lots of tickets. Okay, more than lots. Let’s say tons. Backseats, trunks, and glove boxes full of tickets. Tickets that I, logical person that I am, refuse to pay. It makes absolutely no sense to me that I should be charged to park on a street that my tax dollars already pay for. I believe that if you want to be a large, bustling, “happening” city, you make enough parking for the number of people necessary to fulfill that dream. But instead I live in a place where a fat, inept bitch in polyester garb who is armed with an ink pen has the ability to make my life a living hell. This bitch hates me. After an altercation stemming from the fact that I was putting money in my meter, disabling her superhero ticket writing powers, she has been evil to me; as if I single-handedly destroyed not only all of the ink pens in the free world, but all of the Girl Scout cookies as well. Our “enjoyable for her but not so fun for me” relationship culminated in the nastiest of ways this week. Upon leaving work, I found my car gone. Poof! Maybe the bitch does have super powers. After calling for an hour and talking to three separate people so incompetent that they make President Bush look like he is doing a great job, I found my car. I learned that I could come get it for the bargain basement price of $489. All I had to bring was my driver's license, registration, firstborn male child, two vials of my own blood, a port-a-potty, and three hours worth of reading material. Upon my arrival, I informed the protected-by-bulletproof-glass-for-a-good-reason, feathered hair sporting, bad accent having, human form of tornado bait that my license was IN my car. Genius then informed me that she had to see my license before I could go to my car. Yeah. That one I couldn't win. I had to have a licensed driver come join me in hell and drive my car through the gates. Lesson learned: democracy is capitalism, and capitalism sucks. But no matter how full of logic my stand is, I will back down when my car is taken hostage!