Some People's Children !!

A couple weeks ago, I had one of the worst weeks I'd had in a long, long time. I won't go in to the sordid details of it all, but suffice to say, I was pretty down in the dumps and definitely feeling that "woe is me", mean reds kinda feeling.
Amongst the issues I had that week, someone parked in my parking spot at home. Let me give you some context here. I live in a small-ish building with four floors of apartments and 7 apartments on each floor. We have a small, underground parking facility attached to our building. There is currently a waiting list to get in to that holy grail of parking.
Behind my building is a parking lot. It's surface parking, exposed to the elements, narrow and limited to about 10 spots. Most of those spots are occupied by various tenants and it's obvious which cars are assigned to which stalls. It's not secure or underground, but still, it's a guaranteed spot every time I come home.
Most of the time, that is.
I've had the misfortune, on occasion, to arrive home to find that my spot has been occupied by an unwelcome guest. I usually leave a note, park on the street where the parking is FREE and generally available, and move my car once the offending party has left.
It's happened more than once and my patience has worn thin on this issue. This is an assigned parking lot. You can't just park here.
That week that was so terrible was capped off by one such event. I came home to discover a black Ford F150 with a severely cracked windshield had parked in my space. Fuming, I considered boxing him in, but settled for writing this note:
This parking lot is assigned parking. You cannot park wherever you like. You are parked in my spot and I don't appreciate it. 
Not really rude, not really nice but very informative. I mean, maybe this guy didn't know? (I'm all about giving people the benefit of the doubt ...)
I was parked in the lot in a spot I knew was unoccupied and I kept a watch on the offending vehicle. When I saw someone get in to the driver's seat, I grabbed my keys and headed out to move my own car, assuming this guy was leaving.
Assumption Incorrect.
He moved his truck from my spot to someone else's.
(WTF!?)
The next day while driving home from work, I noticed something under my passenger windshield that I hadn't noticed earlier. I asked my man to pull over and lo and behold there was a note on my car. Under the far side of the windshield wiper as though the note's author didn't really want it to be seen. (When I leave notes on people's cars, I put it right under the driver's windshield so they can't miss it)
I pulled the note off and read it:
IGNORANT
Really? You parked in MY spot and I let you know that you can't do that and I am the one who is ignorant? Really?
Needless to say, I was livid. I knew where the owner of the black pick-up had visited. Knew which apartment he had been in. Conveniently, it was a main floor apartment that backed on to the huge concrete slab behind the building. I considered taking sidewalk chalk and writing the dictionary definition of "ignorant" facing the sliding doors to ensure it was seen.
I considered writing up a definition and posting it next to the mailboxes.
I considered writing a note that explained that it is ignorant to assume you can park in a parking lot where you don't live and posting that note at the mailboxes.
In the end, I decided to
just
let it
go.

Until last night.

I had been out with my man and a few of our friends to see the Muppet Movie (go see it it's awesome!) and arrived home around 9:30pm to see that there was a black Ford F150 parked in my spot.
Are
You
Kidding?

I was livid. Absolutely livid.
This time, I DID box him in. And left him the following note:
This parking lot is assigned parking. I am not ignorant for pointing that out. If you would like to be let out, you can call me. 
I signed the note with my phone number, snapped a few shots of the way I was parked and his license plate in case he decided to ram his way out and went inside.

2.5 hours later .... 
I was snoozing on the couch along to the movie Elf, when I heard my phone ring. I roused Timo with now success.
"Hey, it's probably that guy that wants his truck out," I said, "Will you come with me to move it?"
It was nearly midnight and I needed reinforcements - just in case.
I went out to the car to see that there was a passenger in the truck and it was running. I got in to my car and my phone rang,
"Hi, I think I must have parked in your spot"
YOU THINK!?
I told him I'd move the car and started it up, Timo in the passenger seat. As the driver ascended the stairs, I rolled down my wind.
"This is TWICE!" I said, holding up two fingers. He came right up to my driver's window and shoved a box of cookies in to my face.
"Merry Christmas," he said.
"What?" I asked
"Merry Christmas," he repeated, forcing the cookies all the way in to the car. I took them from him, muttering my thanks.
"I'd rather you just didn't park in my spot!" I called after him.

So now I'm left to wonder, did he park in my spot out of spite? Did he really just forget? (unlikely, IMO, since he parked on the opposite side of the lot when he moved it the first time) Did he really feel badly about his poor decision? So many questions that can only be answered with chocolate covered lady fingers.

L

Sharing Funny Stories

A long time ago, in a galaxy far away ... a galaxy called London, in a place called Blockbuster in the year 2001, a funny thing happened*....
I was young and still in high school, working part time at a video store to earn some cash to put gas in the family guzzler so I could have some independence get to work (it's a vicious cycle). I had a number of regular customers at the now-defunct-once-rental-giant; I could recognize most by face and some of those faces even sparked a synapse that caused me to remember their names. The particular fella I'm about to tell you about, though, was one of the few that I knew by face but not by name.
He was a blonde, stocky character that would come in to the store on Friday nights and Sunday afternoons. On those visits, he was always either fighting with his girlfriend on his cell phone or fighting with his girlfriend in person as they walked through the doors. She had a ring on an important finger and had told me previously that they were engaged on one of her solo visits to our location. Though they usually started out rocky, by the time they'd toured the New Release Wall and sauntered up to my counter, snacks in hand, they had reconciled.
One sunny, Spring morning I was on my way to school - High School - wearing a favorite outfit that showed off my erm ... shapeliness. It was second period (I had first period spare ... amazing) and there were few people on the road and no one on the sidewalk. I saw a car coming towards me and heard some brutish comments as the driver passed me. Then the car turned around and pulled up alongside me.
"Hey!" the guy inside shouted
"Hi," I turned and smiled, but kept walking. He slowly drove -- the wrong way on the shoulder -- beside me.
"You're pretty fine,"
"And you're pretty white, to be using that expression," I thought to myself.
"Gimme your number," he demanded.
I smirked and shook my head.
"Okay, then take mine, hold on, I'll write it down,"**
I waited patiently and politely. The man was a young twenty something that I thought looked awfully familiar. He had peach-fuzzy, blonde hair and a round face. He was smoking, holding the cigarette between his lips while he wrote his number down on a matchbook. He looked up at me and handed me the matchbook and I realized -- this was the guy from Blockbuster. I waited for him to recognize me, though he did not. I smiled, took the matchbook and continued on my way. I folded the matchbook up and realized that this classy guy - a guy whom I had seen on several occasions with his girlfriend/fiancee - had written his number on a matchbook that he'd picked up the last time he'd been at The Forum -- the most notorious strip club on the West Side.

Elsie P

PS - He came in to the store several times after that day and never once recognized me from that day he stopped me on my way to school.


* Well, actually, lots of funny things happened. This is just one that sprang to mind today when I was walking to work and saw a matchbook on the ground.
** This was, after all, 2001. Not all of us had cell phones and smart phones and bump capabilities.