Parking. It's not for everyone.

I will never, ever, not in a million years, understand how some people in this country ever get their driver's license. I admit to knocking over a few cones when I (very, very badly) attempted the parallel parking section on my driving test, but I at least have some common sense. I also have the ability to read. My mommy done learned me good.

The people of this town, though... I hated driving before I moved here. Driving is something I did to get to work, not something I did just for the fun of it. Driving makes me very angry, not to the point of ramming into people with my car, but definitely angry enough to scream obscenities at the imbeciles I'm forced to share the asphalt with, even if they can't hear me. STOP SIGNS ARE FOR STOPPING, YOU IDIOT! Oh, hey, no, you don't need to use your blinker because LET ME READ YOUR DAMN MIND!!

You get the idea.

Imagine my surprise when I moved here and discovered that not only can people suck at driving, but they can also suck at parking. I always thought it would be difficult to be terrible at something that involves your vehicle not moving at all. Who knew?

I used to think signs that proclaim, in plain bold English, NO PARKING AT ANY TIME were fairly easy to understand. I mean, you really only need two words, NO and PARKING. Even backwards they still make sense if you add a little punctuation: Parking? NO! Around here those signs are like an unspoken challenge. There's a no-parking sign just down the block from my house that's been spray-painted in a pathetic attempt to make it unreadable, which of course didn't work, because not only can people not figure out how to stop their cars intelligently (not operate the car, just stop the damn thing from moving), they can't even work a can of spray paint. Big surprise, no?

The house across the street (yes, the same one where Pregnant Man lives) has one of those new-fangled "No Parking" signs directly in front of the house. Not out of the ordinary when you realize that entire side of the street doesn't allow parking. And yet, at least two or three times per day (or five or six times a day sometimes) there's a car parked in front of the house, in front of the damned no-parking sign. *sigh*

The list of Pregnant Man's superpowers got a little shorter when he lost the power of reading comprehension.

If this is my last post, it's because I've died ramming my car into the horde of idiots.

Sincerely,

Smart Girl.