Woke up on time, hair looks stunning, leaving my house in plenty of time and what do I see when I skip down the sidewalk to my car? A homeless woman sorting her laundry on the hood of my car. Lovely. A police officer was talking to her as I walked up. "You really should take your stuff off the car. I know I wouldn't like that if it were my car," he said.
"It's my car, " I said as I clicked the door lock.
"Oh, that's a pretty necklace," the homeless woman said to me.
"Thank you. That's a lot of crap on my hood. You want to move it?" I replied.
"It's just blankets and stuff," she said.
"Yeah, but I have to leave for work now," I said while opening the door.
The police officer gave me the rocker nod and said, "you got this," and drove off. I climbed in my car and set up the iPod while she finished removing her things from my hood. Then I started the car. "Have a nice day" she called as I drove off. Aw, that was sweet of her. I mean, it's not like she was sleeping on my car or, you know, drinking in the back seat. Plus she kind of reminded me of my ex-boyfriend's current wife-- sad, pathetic and none-too-bright so one couldn't really pick on her. For a visual, she kind of looked like this.
I arrived at work, stepped out of the elevator on our floor and was nearly knocked out by the overwhelming smell of poo. It was muggy in the lobby, which is never a good sign. Arthur at reception told me that A) the AC was off; B) there was some sort of water leak over the weekend and all the carpets are soaked and the elevator shafts were flooded; and C) the water is shut off so we can't use the restrooms. Oh, and the server is down. Can I go home now? The boss called to say she'd be late so I warned her. Just as she was about to send us all home, the server came back up (Thanks a lot, Allen in IT) and we were forced to stay. Crap! The halls still smell like poo despite the many high-powered dryers strategically placed through our floor. Fortunately, the water is back on and we don't have to trek to the next tower to use the toilet.
Can't get any worse, you say? Guess again. I was off to get lunch at my favorite salad place and was waiting at the light at 6th and Hope after making the trip around the block (you have to take a friend and drop them off, then go around the block because there's no parking, and pick them up on the next round). The light is red and I can't make a right turn because of oncoming traffic. The car behind me is impatiently waving at me. The light turned green and the car behind me commences with the honking. Honk! Shout obscenities! Honk! Meanwhile, I am still unable to make a right turn because of the 300 pedestrians crossing (yes, I counted them). I shrugged and waved toward the peds x-ing but the carload of Impatiens (hee hee) angrily climbed up my bumper and honked and revved the engine. Finally, I was able to turn and the car swerved around me to the left and shouted something to the effect of "get off the road 'til you learn to drive!" and various things in a language I don't speak. You mean, get off the road until I learn to plow through an intersection filled with pedestrians? Get off the road until I learn to risk my life and car by turning into oncoming traffic? Jeez!
Oh, it doesn't end there. After the salad run, we stopped at Starbucks--the one at Union and Wilshire. Avoid it at all costs. It shares a lot with a shoe store, which as far as I can tell does no business, and is adjacent to a McDonald's, Home Depot and Food 4 Less. Parking is always a challenge and made more so by the milling about of day laborers. Today, a Cadillac circa 1977 was idling in front of three viable parking spaces. I may have made a disparaging remark in the vein of "move it, dickhead." I may not have noticed that Criss's window was down. (oops)
Inside Starbucks, Criss perused the food selections while we waited in line. The person in front of us stepped up to place her order and Criss didn't move up right away. The women behind us said, "Are you in line?" "yes, we are," I replied as I turned back to help Criss choose between fruit and cheese and the delicious prosciutto sandwich. I didn't say it with attitude, I swear. I simply stated, "yes, we are." Behind us, the women began rumbling. "Obama's in the White House! I'm glad, too. Teach these people some manners." Excuse me?? Is she talking about us?? How is one related to the other? And how was my response ill-mannered? This is when Criss decided to tell me that these women were passengers in the aforementioned Cadillac. Yikes! I wasn't worried much. Criss is from Atlanta and was fully prepared to go ghetto if need be. But, in true karmic form, the barista somehow placed our order after theirs so we waited forever for a tall chai latte, which caused the ladies behind us to smile smugly as they grabbed their drinks.
NOW can I go home??
"It's my car, " I said as I clicked the door lock.
"Oh, that's a pretty necklace," the homeless woman said to me.
"Thank you. That's a lot of crap on my hood. You want to move it?" I replied.
"It's just blankets and stuff," she said.
"Yeah, but I have to leave for work now," I said while opening the door.
The police officer gave me the rocker nod and said, "you got this," and drove off. I climbed in my car and set up the iPod while she finished removing her things from my hood. Then I started the car. "Have a nice day" she called as I drove off. Aw, that was sweet of her. I mean, it's not like she was sleeping on my car or, you know, drinking in the back seat. Plus she kind of reminded me of my ex-boyfriend's current wife-- sad, pathetic and none-too-bright so one couldn't really pick on her. For a visual, she kind of looked like this.
I arrived at work, stepped out of the elevator on our floor and was nearly knocked out by the overwhelming smell of poo. It was muggy in the lobby, which is never a good sign. Arthur at reception told me that A) the AC was off; B) there was some sort of water leak over the weekend and all the carpets are soaked and the elevator shafts were flooded; and C) the water is shut off so we can't use the restrooms. Oh, and the server is down. Can I go home now? The boss called to say she'd be late so I warned her. Just as she was about to send us all home, the server came back up (Thanks a lot, Allen in IT) and we were forced to stay. Crap! The halls still smell like poo despite the many high-powered dryers strategically placed through our floor. Fortunately, the water is back on and we don't have to trek to the next tower to use the toilet.
Can't get any worse, you say? Guess again. I was off to get lunch at my favorite salad place and was waiting at the light at 6th and Hope after making the trip around the block (you have to take a friend and drop them off, then go around the block because there's no parking, and pick them up on the next round). The light is red and I can't make a right turn because of oncoming traffic. The car behind me is impatiently waving at me. The light turned green and the car behind me commences with the honking. Honk! Shout obscenities! Honk! Meanwhile, I am still unable to make a right turn because of the 300 pedestrians crossing (yes, I counted them). I shrugged and waved toward the peds x-ing but the carload of Impatiens (hee hee) angrily climbed up my bumper and honked and revved the engine. Finally, I was able to turn and the car swerved around me to the left and shouted something to the effect of "get off the road 'til you learn to drive!" and various things in a language I don't speak. You mean, get off the road until I learn to plow through an intersection filled with pedestrians? Get off the road until I learn to risk my life and car by turning into oncoming traffic? Jeez!
Oh, it doesn't end there. After the salad run, we stopped at Starbucks--the one at Union and Wilshire. Avoid it at all costs. It shares a lot with a shoe store, which as far as I can tell does no business, and is adjacent to a McDonald's, Home Depot and Food 4 Less. Parking is always a challenge and made more so by the milling about of day laborers. Today, a Cadillac circa 1977 was idling in front of three viable parking spaces. I may have made a disparaging remark in the vein of "move it, dickhead." I may not have noticed that Criss's window was down. (oops)
Inside Starbucks, Criss perused the food selections while we waited in line. The person in front of us stepped up to place her order and Criss didn't move up right away. The women behind us said, "Are you in line?" "yes, we are," I replied as I turned back to help Criss choose between fruit and cheese and the delicious prosciutto sandwich. I didn't say it with attitude, I swear. I simply stated, "yes, we are." Behind us, the women began rumbling. "Obama's in the White House! I'm glad, too. Teach these people some manners." Excuse me?? Is she talking about us?? How is one related to the other? And how was my response ill-mannered? This is when Criss decided to tell me that these women were passengers in the aforementioned Cadillac. Yikes! I wasn't worried much. Criss is from Atlanta and was fully prepared to go ghetto if need be. But, in true karmic form, the barista somehow placed our order after theirs so we waited forever for a tall chai latte, which caused the ladies behind us to smile smugly as they grabbed their drinks.
NOW can I go home??
1 comment:
Dang. I would have turned around at the poo smell and went home.
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