553-0123 (REDUX)

4.3.2019  (first posted this week 2002)

Ya have neighbors? You like them? Me, I live in a veritable sea of people and yet I feel rather invisible. It’s like they don’t see me. They don’t know I’m there. What’s more is that it seems that if they do notice, most don’t care. They'll hack one up and spit it on the sidewalk right in front of you. There’s a shocking lack of respect people pay to each other. I’ve been thinking about interacting with strangers lately and I’ve come to some conclusions. Sad conclusions. A couple of recent events got me thinking about it.

I was passenger in a car and we were circling on and around Chestnut street in the Marina district, looking for parking. If you know the area you might guess that the search was not going well. A few times around the neighborhood and some prayers to the Patron Saint of Parking (whoever that is … maybe it’s St. Homer), we saw a lady fixing to leave a big space. We pulled up, signaled our intention and waited while the lady checked the mirrors, her make up, various stock prices … she was taking her damn time, but that’s okay. It was an exercise in patience. Well guess what? Some piece of shit Dodge Neon pulls up behind the lady and also signals. We wondered aloud, “Is that dipshit thinking she’s taking that spot? Doesn’t she see our signal?” The Neon then pulls up to the lady in the spot (who is still taking her time) and asks her something. Probably if she’s leaving any time this year. She thinks she’s taking the spot. Well that doesn’t matter because we got there first. Rules of parking say it’s our spot.
Of course the goddang space is big enough such that when take-your-time-lady finally leaves, Neon “front parks.” Ugh. We pulled back and, as I was on the passenger side, I rolled down my window and said, “Get your fat ass outta that spot, asshole! Are you fokking blind? We were waiting for it!” Actually that’s what I wanted to say. What really came out was, “Hey Doll. We were waiting for that spot. We got here before you and you swiped it from us. Now c’mon. Fair is fair.” The pig squealed something like, “I asked her (take-your-time-lady) if you were waiting for this spot and she said no. So it’s mine.” Unbelieveable. “Hey Doll. How you figure she knows what we’re doing? Is this parking ritual new to you? It’s our spot. You cheated.” She was obviously entitled to the spot, though because she didn’t budge. I called her a bad, bad person and that she’ll get her’s from St. Homer. She said we were just sorry that we didn’t get our way. I said I was more sorry for her, as she was a pathetic parking-cheater with a crappy Neon. And she was ugly. (I kept that last bit to myself. I figure she’s known it all her life, no need to remind her.)

The other clear case of not getting along with other humans came in the form of a rampaging car alarm outside my bedroom window.

Some inconsiderate jerk set their car alarm to a hair trigger and every time a pidgeon farted in Alameda the thing would start wailing. It went crazy for a good ten-fifteen minutes before it shut off. It was really annoying.
Sad thing is that the car was a pile of junk. Nobody would be interested in it because it looked like it hardly ran. The thing showed up on a Sunday and started its sonic assault right away. By Monday, the alarm had gone off all night and the car had amassed a few notes on the windshield. I peeked at a few: “My bedroom is right across the side walk. Your alarm goes off and I can’t sleep. Please turn it off!” “Turn off your alarm, F*&(^%$ER!!! Or I’ll KILL YOUR CAR!!” Tuesday: Alarm. Wednesday: Alarm. I had had it. I called the SF PD’s non-emergency number, described the car and its location and the really sweet telephone copper said she’d send someone out. It must have been a really slow day because the fuzz showed up moments later and parked. The cop got out, went to the car, read the notes and apparently phoned it the wrecker. After a few minutes the No. 12 Folsom came down the hill and that alarm went bonkers. Proof.
Soon enough, I hear the alarm going off yet again, look out to see the wrecker pulling that sucker into the street and jacking it up to haul it off, still screaming. I waged a war against that car on behalf of my roommate and cats and won without nary an effort.

My point: It takes a special kind of inconsiderate jerk to set their alarm to such a sensitivity and never checks it when it goes off. I know of no one so thoughtless. I figured that I could arrange a little message that his tricks ain’t so funny and get his car ticketed and towed for him. I hope it cost a lot to get it back.

Tonight - Wooden Nickel

News: The Jamie Lee Curtis 14, Presidio Softball League Champions, is regrouping for another campaign. Good Luck! They are recruiting players, however, as several have gone down both to injuries and to, well, "Under." Get it? "Down Under?"

Last Week's Contest Results: No contest last week, but Moss won the previous' week's contest. He barely edged Founding Member John Metsker.

Tonight's Singled-Out List Member: Woody. He's challenging all List Members to pool tonight. You win, he buys.

Porn Title of the Week: Splendor in the Ass. Goddang that one makes me laugh.

Satanic Word of the Week: its

Umm ... Bring your friends, I know I will. See you there! bye-ee!




bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!