A Stealthy and Cowardly Assault

So I am pissed right off.

I have every right to be.

I will explain.

One of the joys of becoming an amazingly gifted Manager of Pizza Sluts is taking a required class that is an hour and a half drive away that takes up your entire weekend. My lack of blog postage in the last few days may prove that this was, in fact, that weekend for me.

While I was not exactly thrilled to go hang out and perform team building rituals with strangers, (such as manager-employee role-playing and LEGO building)  I was somewhat happy to be going to stay with my brother after the class on Saturday night. (Even though Frenchie text me and begged for me to return home because apparently my restaurant cannot live without me). As my brother’s home was considerably closer to the training class I had to return to on Sunday, I decided to go with my original plan to visit him after my class finished up on Saturday night.

My brother and I hung out and talked of various mutual interests such as music and movies until we settled in for the night to watch DVDs of The Big C (an excellent show based in Minneapolis if you’ve never heard of it). I zonked out around 3 AM and was not fully awake when I prepared myself for another fun-filled day of managerial training on Sunday morning.

I hugged my brother goodbye and sauntered out to my chilled car in my fuschia heels, (I needed to wear SOMETHING to brighten my classmates’ day) and was immediately perturbed to find not one, but TWO tickets annoyingly decorating my windshield. A parking violation and an expired registration ticket.

About the expired registration- Yes, I realize that one is my fault, as my tabs expired in November. However, my shoe addiction has rendered me penniless as of late, so lack of tab fundage has occurred. I made sure not to mention the reasoning for my lack of dollars to the semi-hot cop who pulled me over on Friday night to point out my expired tabs….I believe he found me irresistable in my filthy Pizza Slut uniform- or perhaps D’Odour d’Pizza that wafted from me temporarily washed his brain- but anyhoo, I talked myself out of a tabs ticket on Friday night, only to receive one on Saturday night because I was not actually present in my car when the ticket was written. Piss me off.

The parking ticket? NO FUCKING WAY. Here is the thing. My brother lives in a row of apartement buildings that comes complete with a parking lot. However, this past summer the apartment manager made a rule that no cars not belonging to residents of the buildings may park their cars in said parking lot. While I am willing to break such silly rules, I am NOT willing to go down to the Car Pound to retrieve my car when the asshole living in one of the buildings who has nothing better to do calls the tow truck. So I parked on the street, where there were no parking restrictions, behind another car.

Where the fuck else was I supposed to park?! Since I am no longer allowed to park in the parking lot, or apparently on the street, and the aliens in my head are not willing to beam my car up until any certain time, I really wanna know.

Not only was I irate at receiving a completely un-earned parking ticket, but I looked at both tickets and discovered that IT WASN’T EVEN THE SAME FUCKING COP WHO WROTE THEM BOTH.

This is where I get truly wrathful.

My brother lives in North St. Paul. While not comparably crime-filled as say, Detroit, North St. Paul is without a doubt AT LEAST #3 in the most ghetto-like, illegal-activities area of Minnesota. bUT NO. INSTEAD OF ARRESTING UNDER-AGED DEVIANTS OR CHASING DOWN SHOP-LIFTERS AT THE LOCAL WALMART, THESE FUCKING LAZY PIGS HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAT WRITE ME NOT ONE, BUT TWO FUCKING TICKETS WHILE I AM INNOCENTLY VISITING MY BROTHER. INSTEAD OF TRYING TO MAKE THE LOCAL CRIMES SECTION IN THE PIONEER PRESS LESS THAN 3 PAGES LONG, THESE POPO FUCKERS, (NOT ONE, BUT TWO) ASSAULT ME WITH THEIR WEAPONS OF CHOICE (TICKET BOOKS) WHILE I AM HANGING WITH THE SANDMAN. FUCK THAT SHIT.

My racism for Minnesota Fuzz has in the past been reserved for State Patrol. (That’s a story for another time) No longer. Now, when I see ANY police-issued vehicle cross my vision, I will be throwing up my middle finger and secretly wishing I had a grenade, or a 357 Magnum I could point in their direction and say, “Are ya feelin’ lucky today, punk? Well, are ya?”

P.S. And the next time I get pulled over for expired tabs, I’m going to say, “It’s your fucking fault, you dipshit. If you wouldn’t hand out tickets left and right because you’re too lazy to do something useful, I could have bought 100 tabs. But I have to pay my fucking tickets, so fuck off.”

Chicken Strips Rule and Other Reasons Why

I decided to write this post when I found myself snarfing down left-over KFC at 5:30 this morning.

Why chicken strips rule: not only are they essentially the only food a restaraunt can’t screw up, the fact that you don’t have to check first to make sure you’re not going to take a giant bite of chicken fat makes them very appealing. And as I’m trying to pull chicken off the bone, I can’t help but start to think, “This used to have a head.”

Why I no longer care to go to the movie theatre: because people are assholes. I myself prefer to go to a movie during a matinee, so as to avoid the screaming masses. (which makes me even more upset that my theatre doesn’t have daytime showings during the school year.) So you can understand my utter dissatisfaction when I go into an empty theatre, find a spot where nobody usually likes to sit, and then have some ass-hat come and sit in the seat RIGHT behind me. In theatre with even only 100 seats, if there is only one other person sitting there, what possesses these people to sit so close? Are they feeling lonely? Are they sitting near in case they become frightened during the movie and wish to be consoled? (even though the movie is Mamma Mia) and I cannot tell you how many times I’ve wanted to turn around and shove that bag of candy that they’re rustling so far up their ass that it comes out their face. And being that open-mouthed eating is my biggest pet peeve (more on that another time), what a coincidence it is that these same inconsiderate jack-holes are chomping the noisiest thing to listen to being eaten, popcorn. Therefore, I stay home and pay for Netflix.

Why I adore duct tape and closets: when you live with a 9 year old who isn’t yours, corporal punishments such as spankings are not an option. This is where these 2 supplies come in handy.

Why I wear ridiculously tall heels to work: Until someone invites me to a ball, I must get use out of my 47 pairs of beauteous shoes. Also, they come in handy when trying to reach books on the top shelf. But I STILL would like to go to a ball…

Why Angelina is still on my top 5 list of gorgeous celebs: Yes, I admit, she is greatly over-rated, and a little too skinny nowadays, but anyone who adopts a bunch of kids from wherever and takes the time to help other people is beautiful in my book. Even if they DID do it for publicity. I knew about her BEFORE she was famous and I want to kiss those crazy-big lips, so there.

Why I believe state patrol officers should all be laid off:  I can honestly say I’ve never seen a state patrol officer doing something useful, such as catching bad guys- instead, they seem to think that I am the bad guy, and are dumb enough to think that I’m going to slow down if they give me a ticket. Of course, they are dumb enough to sometimes NOT give me tickets too, when I flash a bit of cleavage. Since our country and states are having a difficult time with their creditors (us taxpayers), wouldn’t it make sense to rid ourselves of these nuisances and give them jobs as real cops in big cities who are short handed?

Ok, I guess that’s it for now. Have a lovely day, I may post something later. XOXO