Seattle weather in southern California. It’s amazing how quick (the royal) we are to complain about the rain, but when your life revolves around outdoor activities, when it rains your weekend trail running plans are completely shot to hell. Driving becomes impossible because Californians simply can not drive in the rain. It’s like an “idiot chemical” messes with our synapses at the slightest hint of inclement weather. Our rods and cones get jacked up. Electrical impulses between our brain and our appendages become interrupted and incomprehensible. We deserve the jokes.
It’s as if we’re hardwired to do stupid. In fact, I firmly believe that there’s a complex underground, secretive cottage industry that revolves around anticipating what stupid thing we’ll do next, then attempts to warn us not to do what we’re thinking of doing. Like, oh….I dunno, playing in traffic, running with scissors, or lighting a camp fire and pitching a tent in a parking lot of the local dollar store. We have to be told that this sort of activity is unacceptable.
Then you have the times where we’re too sly for our own good. Like a monkey farking a football we’re often left scratching our heads trying to make sense of our surroundings. For example, I wanted to give my San Marcos GNC on Auto Parkway a few hundred dollars for items I needed, but I was unsure if they were going to open back up five minutes from now, or five minutes from then… Needless to say I simply left, unable to comprehend exactly when they intended to return, opting instead to order online from a different company.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to believe the wicked string of bad luck I had encountered within the span of a few hours. Taking the easy way out I decided to just give up on life. Stripping off my clothes and tossing them into the parking lot I quickly realized that I was not cut out to endure cold, windy, and wet climes whilst naked. Hoping against hope that I would stumble across a store that specialized in togas, imagine my surprise when, in a fit of delirium brought about by exposure to the freezing elements I blindly shoved my way through the glass doors of a random store and found myself here:
Finally, my luck was turning. Warmed again by a bolt of newly-acquired bleached, albeit scratchy material majestically bound about my glorious naked torso and cinched tight with a strand of stately golden rope, I confidently strode outdoors like a victorious god into the embrace of a dimming sun as it strained warm rays through stifling dark clouds. My restored belief in the kindness and dignity of mankind was, alas, shot down in a ball of fiery demonic flames when I caught sight of this travesty:
I firmly believe that there’s a special place in Hades for self-important bastards like this. Mental defects such as this “person”, who can’t park straight because they believe that the world revolves around them, deserve to be the target of divine wrath and swift holy vengeance.
I have a reoccurring dream. This dream is to purchase a fleet of beater cars. Obtuse, heavy, and ugly. And with these vehicles I’d hunt down and park inches away from jerks like this. I’d park one on each side of these jokers, making it impossible for offenders of common decency, such as this individual, to get into their cars. And I’d sit there, in my royal robes and sun-god smile, and laugh. I’d point with a sharp, judgmental finger, and laugh.
…And so, this is how I spent fours hours of my life this past Saturday. Ya know….just in case you were curious.
