The manladies a few doors down were hosting a party the other night. Unluckily for me, my parking space is all but in their garden, and they decided to take advantage by allowing their friends to park in my space.Now we know how tetchy people are about their parking spaces. Road rage doesn’t only comprise actual roads, at least not in housing complexes.
Woe betide the person who parked in the old granny’s spot at my old flat. She may only take her 1972 Ford Estcourt out once a week to do her groceries, but she’d wave her cane about like a criminally insane individual and even say words like ‘fuck’ and ‘bastard’ if someone parked behind her.
Grannies get all holier than thou when it comes to vocal obscenities. That is, until someone fucks with their parking space.
So with that in mind, people get anal about their parking. Even I. Park in mine if you know I’m not there or whatever, fine. But park in mine when there is ample visitors parking? And you’re blocking me in? I’m actually THERE and trying to move?
Before the irritation began to bubble beneath the surface of my Type A skin, I realise fast that this situation was to be different of times past. Normally when this happens it goes something like this:
‘Hi, could you please ask your friend to move so that I can get out?’
Neighbour: Oh I do apologise, they were only going to be here for five minutes. They’ll move their car immediately.
Peas: Thanks very much.
But hark. Sylvesterina Stallone was in town.
Peas walks up to car, obliterated by other car. A lot of activity is happening in the house adjacent, the manladies are entertaining. And I really REALLY don’t want to interrupt. Trust me.
Fear grips me like farmer who has just watched Children Of The Corn.
Fuck. Have to go over there and….bitch.
Peas: Hi….terribly sorry to interrupt, I need to reverse out of here, so if your friend wouldn’t mind moving their car?
Woman of undeterminable sex with hunormous muscles and formidable mullet: ‘Is there a problem?’
Peas: [now trembling] Sort of. Only slightly. It’s just that…I can’t really move my car. Out. At all. Sooooooooo terribly sorry.
If This Were Going The Way Nature Intended: Yes there’s a problem. Tell your mate to park in a visitors spot, not mine. So we can avoid this confrontation altogether.
Muscled Mullet: Stacey? STACEY? Please move your car for a second. What time are you coming back?
Peas: Can’t really be sure. But if she parks in the, um, visitors parking, then I won’t have to bother you again.
If This Were Going The Way Nature Intended: Listen freak. Why is she in my spot anyway? MOVE. HER. NOW. And I don’t want to see this car blocking my space when I return at whatever time I decide to return, are we clear?
Muscled Mullet: She’ll park back there, and you will call us back and she’ll move. What time are you coming back?
Peas: [Deep breath. Keep cool.] I really can’t say. It might be easier if she just uses the….designated visitors parking. [My God she’s going to throat slam me]
If This Were Going The Way Nature Intended: Security? We have a situation here.
Muscled Mullet: 10,11pm?
If This Were Going The Way Nature Intended: Oh and Security? Send one of the more strapping lads to the scene.
Peas: I don’t want to make promises as to what time I return. This is kinda…my parking bay.
She inches closer.
Muscled Mullet: Call us when you get home. We will move her car.
If This Were Going The Way Nature Intended: Why are we still having this conversation? I’m. Losing. My. Shit. Here. Next time I have a napover, I’ll make fucking sure they park in your bay. And trust me, it’ll be a 10 metre long freight truck.
Oh and another thing – get your cat to stop fornicating on my bonnet.
Peas: Sure…I’ll just call you then bye.
Scuttle off. Highly peeved.
That woman knew that she could squash me like a bug. Flashing her Arnie muscles and flicking her mullet and talking in an alto man-voice.
Fuck I’m cross. She used manliness to intimidate me. Next time her cat shits on my car, that by-product will be used to write a sign that says:
‘PRIVATE PARKING SPACE. FIT IN OR FUCK OFF.’
Or something. Or something.
Intimidating me with your super-dykeness. That’s just evil.
I will think of something, when I pluck up the courage. And it will involve a man the size of a brick shithouse.
It’s not over until the fat lady sings.
Bitch.
21 comments:
Being a boy makes it a bit easier to sort this out, had the same problem in the previous complex I stayed in conversation went a bit quicker:
Me: Howzit. Please move your car or I will. You are in my parking, just, by the way. Thanks. (I started walking off)
Offender: Are you going to be long?
Me: This is not visitors parking. DON'T. PARK. HERE. OKAY?
When I got back the asshole decided to park there, so I parked him in and for some reason couldn't hear him knocking on the door...
I eventually moved the next day at like 8! hahaha! Nobody ever parked in my parking area again!
Don't be scared to give people a piece of your mind! Whatsshegonnado? Beat you? I think not!
A complex parking bay story for you...
My ex and I came home from visiting her grandparent (tea) to find someone in her parking bay. My ex decided NOT to cause a scene (which for her is pretty amazing as she's a feisty, feisty person) and asked the guards to inform the owner not to park there again. (There was AMPLE visitor's parking available).
As she's walking back from the guardhouse the offender is returning to his vehicle with family in tow so my ex, politely but firmly, asks him not to park there again and to use the visitors parking.
He and his son (about 17) decided to reply with cat-whistles and hissing noises along with an argument that it's no big deal and she should forget. Now her being her, she told him off. To which he responded with a string of obscenities.
I heard this, and HONESTLY, I did nothing else but suggest that a parking issue was NO big deal and if he could just park somewhere else.
It escalated in to his daughter attacking me, my ex pulling her off my back, him trying to hit me, me plugging him and my neighbours arriving with baseball bats!
FOR A PARKING BAY THAT WASN'T HIS TO BEGIN WITH.
And this in the North, not even the South... Where I'm from and would expect similar behaviour.
To make things worse, his daughter her lived there claimed they didn't know where the visitors parking was. Try the bay right next to the one he was in.
Forgot to add they stank of booze...
Needless to say we received a huge apology the next day with flowers.
bosotter - Fuck now I'm even MORE angry. Because I didn't fucking stand up for myself. Christ I'm cross with myself!
I like your style, and frankly if this ever happens again, I'm going to take action. I loved that you parked them in for 8 hours.
I'm so frustrated I didn't do this. ARRRGH!
Tyrone - for REAL? It sounds exactly like something that would come out of the South - hilarious though, in retrospect I would've loved to have been a fly on THAT wall! Baseball bats? Is he fuckin crazy??
I can't BELIEVE people sometimes. Just when you think you understand the human race, crazy fucks fight after YOUR parking when there's a bay right next to yours! HOW DARE HE THINK HE EVEN HAD ONE LEG TO STAND ON??
OK now I'm pissed off. Now I'm ANGRY. I'm going to get some air :)
TY - Flowres or not, bloody hell, what part of 'THIS IS MY FUCKING PARKING SPACE' do they not understand??
From your last couple of posts, I think its safe to assume that shit ant really going your way lately?
Self destruct sequence activated. :)
icepick - haha I'll be honest - not at all :) It's strange, I've certainly come across that way, certainly. Maybe I'm just grumpy ;)
Now life is pretty good at the moment, (if not slightly freezing), but generally I'm happy :)
Peas - I must give you the recipe for "polyester kotch" - this is a little revenge device created by my big sister and I (she leads me into temptation often). You mix it quietly in your kitchen and then tiptoe up to the offending vehicle and trickle it on the driver's door handle (passenger too if you are evil), and the windscreen and if you have enough the wing mirror. Then find a good hiding place and watch the fun!
Charmskool - you're a genius! Right what's the recipe, because I'm tempted. Especially not letting out my full frustration on the creatures that put me here.
IcepickActingAsCharmskool..
Its basically just feces. Which doesn't necessarily require a pre-mix in the kitchen. As can be performed on sight.
hahahaha :)
Girls don't pooh, but I'm pretty sure finding a pile of excrement shouldn't be so difficult.
I'm game.
Girls dont pooh...
...for the first year in the relationship, yes.
Who knows where it goes?!
But either way, I am 35% sure, a third of the time, that half The Female waste system is relatively similar to that of The males.
Though, to be honest, I cannot imagine a women taking a crap on a car windshield from long distance.
hahahahahaha.
Now pick a quiet place. Close your eyes. Clam your mind. Are you with me?
Great. Now imagine a shiny, beautiful sportscar. In all it;s glory. Imagine Angelina Jolie. Isn't she beautiful. Now imagine Angelina Jolie squatting on the bonnet. And taking a dump.
See? That's why girls don't pooh. EVER. And if they do, it's because ....you imagined it only.
Sorry you lost me with that car. I was picturing the Audi RS8 in all its glory, with me at the wheel, hands on both gear nobs. Whose Angelina Jolie again? Perhaps next time, start with her.
And...Even if my imagination is fooling me, and my sketchy knowledge on the human anatomy is false - by eating solids, this will produce a foul smelling substance that one could then, although primitive, catapult a relatively long distance - I still have much reason to believe, not all that time spent in there is all make-up and showering.
hahah.
OK fine fine.
Everything sounded reasonable until mention of 'catapult.'
Catapulting long distances though? Now I have to disagree. That takes skill. Something the female of the species simply cannot own as she doesn't ...extentiate those solids.
;)
hahahaha
Catapult using hands of course!
You are only denying the truth to yourself. But when the going gets tough, and the pressure gets tougher. Eventually you will burst. Solids flying everywhere. And just imagine what kinda funeral that will be...
"Here rests Peas' excrements - that she so passionate denied excreting. Nevertheless, she will never be forgotten, thanks to her unnaturally abnormal and unhealthy bloated stomach, that was sucha prosperous characteristic in her short, but fulfilling life; as Peas The Female Blogger That Doesn't Pooh."
Bloated Peas On Toast
I'm a constipated bitch who usually gets into trouble by failing to spew my crass, vulgar un-pooh-like shit into what humans call, a toilet..
Oh my God I'm in hysterics.
I may not be able to relate to you mere mortals and your bowel movements, or even understand what on EARTH you're referring to, I can only imagine right now a lot of kak...running amuck.
But hell. Do I love toilet humour.
PS: Bloatation keeps me afloat in rough seas. I see it as a positive thing.
;)
Yuck people! Of course polyester kotch is not pooh/excrement - that would require dealing with germs and bad smells and I'm germ phobic. In the interests of science and because I would like to develop a following of dedicated fans - here's the recipe:
(by the way you can make it up as you go along - just follow the basic principle - Take a large jug, fill it with bits of leftover (preferably partly-masticated) food BUT it must include peas and carrots, a raw egg, or two, some oil - cheepo sunflower please - for window greasing and sticking quality - a little gravy or Bisto powder, some water, a little flower, some of those green-covered things you forgot at the back of the fridge,frozen sweetcorn and a squished tomato or two - are you getting the picture? When it looks at its vomitiest best then off you go and pour away to your hearts content. I've actually seen someone vomit in reaction to seeing it drizzled down his driver's door and windscreen yeehaaah!!!!
LOL.
..Or a lot of doo, stuck in the queue. Waiting for a sudden release, into the nearest econo-loo.
You're right Peas. Your God-like powers and unused organs, amaze me. I can only imagine a world without fibre...
Its a sad day.
PS. *POP*
Charm - now you talking! Fake vomit.
You know with a recipe like that, you could join the circus. I LOVE it :)
icepick - one day I'll teach you to be as bloated and poo-free as me, even when you eat Special K regularly.
;)
Post a Comment