City life.

Yesterday I had my first encounter with the phenomenon of having your car blocked in by morons who park too close. Thank goodness I didn't actually need my car (I just like to drive it around and flip off people who choose to drive fuel-efficient vehicles). So I dutifully walked to the places I needed to go to and on my way home ran into my neighbor, Mike, who was sitting on his porch enjoying a mid-day Four Loko and a cigar. He is pretty much the shit. He's about 50 and drives pizza delivery for a place downtown, and generally greets me by yelling from his porch something along the lines of "Hey girl, (insert comment about sports/the weather/my outfit here)." He was very sympathetic to my plight of having my car blocked in, and went so far as to tell me whose car had blocked me in from the front. In his words, the car belonged to "that girl that lives in #4 with her brother. They don't say much. I think they're Greek." And in response to my car being blocked in: "That's fucked up." Yes, Mike, yes it is. So I met the girl that lives in #4, she's really nice, and she moved her car. The end.