Whoever built the parking garage here should probably be prosecuted.


It's no different than any other day. Except that I woke up very late, had no coffee, broke a water dish on the floor when the rolling pin roll-lll-lled off the edge of the countertop smack on top of it; then I resisted the urge to smash even more things with said rolling pin -- althought I did fantasize for a moment of me smashing all things glass like an angry Buford Pusser.

And everyday, it's a similar frustration for me: parking in an old, four-story, once-department-store-now-parking-garage... thing. I'm here to say it is not fun. Because most department stores built in the early 50's weren't designed to, say, have cars driving around in their basements, especially. It's an ungodly task to drive between old car-torn pillars, over old glue spots and carpetlines, just to find a place to stash your car for 8 hours or so. Sure the cars of the 1980's were smaller when this rennovation occured. I remember compact cars. Every now and then, I'll even see the raised-lettering under a black swash of cover-up paint. And it still faintly reads: "Compact cars only", marking where a 1982 Toyota SR5 would've fit quite nicely.

Finding a space is one thing. Wedging a car into it without busting your bumper on something is a complete 'nother. And then, I guess what makes me madder'n hell in the summertime heat of Alabama is attempting to sandwich my car in between the walls of SU fricking V's.

It's like putting toothpaste back into a tube.

And it wasn't even the (you haven't got a scratch on that tank) SUV's taking up the most room as it was the rednecks taking up more than their allotted one space allowed. If you think I'm being rude and just calling people rednecks, you are wrong. This one in particular sports a (can you call it a) vanity plate on the front of his (did that really pass inspection) Ford Truck (or what's left of it). The hardened dirt and grime seem to hold parts of it together.

It's too easy to talk about, so I am going down the street for coffee. I wish I had some of this caffeinated soap instead -- http://www.thinkgeek.com/caffeine/accessories/5a65/

I'm getting some of it. If you're like me and either too lazy to click the link or too afraid to jump off your train of thought in fear it'll pull away from the station and leave you stranded (again), I'll explain this soap. It's caffeinated, and the caffeine is absorbed through your skin. Yes, you can absorb things through your skin and get it into your system much quicker than if you were to Traditionally Ingest it. Sure it's true. Take a look at what all the incidental, environmental hormones in everything -- from new carpet to nail polish -- have done to the 12 year old girls these days. They're exploding with hormones and with boobies. I gotta get some of this soap.

Plus, it'll save me that Precious Time in the morning. Let's see, it takes about six minutes to get a fresh percolator full of coffee going in the morning, and everybody knows that six minutes in the morning is prime real estate that can make or break you. You can either get up early, get a jump on the rest of the schmoes and finally Be Somebody, Be an Early-Bird Achiever Who Employers Are Just Dying to Promote to Fiduciary Success, or you can roll over and miss it all, Jack. Yeah, I said "Jack." Just like that, you're still the Same Old Loser, Consistently Missing a Whole Busload of 'Now' Opportunity. Again. But not now, not me, not with something like this magic caffeinated soap. Don't think I'm not getting it. I can now either (1) set off to work six minutes earlier and conquer a whole world or new opps, or more likely (2) sleep six more Precious Minutes. If nothing else, it's got peppermint in it. Man. I love shopping online. How did we ever do Christmas before the internet?

"Heyarh's a prezzent fer ya, Daddyy... it's a liiie-sunse plate fer yer truck that I gots at th' hardwarr store... it sezzz 'Redneckk'! Ain't that funny?"