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(Pre-Script: This Post will have you squeezing in and out of places you might not actually fit into when you read it as the song, " Everybody's Changing," #52 on the playlist, plays in the background. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...)
(...still waiting...)
(...still waiting...)A lot of parking lots were made before the people all decided that their vehicles were too small, and that they should drive around in tanks instead. I think when people heard there was a war in Iraq, they decided to buy large tanks to drive around the bay area and Cleveland in. a lot of oil comes from Iraq, so better to get the gas guzzlingest thing a person can find to drive to the grocery store and back, just in case we run out of oil anytime soon. Best to feel tough and higher up on the road than anyone else, too. This is the line of thinking that goes into such purchases.
It really makes it hard for a girl to park her medium sized vehicle anywhere, especially if she wants to open her car door without chipping the paint on the vehicle of mammoth proportions parked next to her. Especially if she wants to actually get out of the car after she has parked it.
It is really a motivating factor to keep enduring grueling workouts. Like if I ever want to get out of my car again, I had better not gain an ounce. Otherwise I might park, and then be stuck in my car forever. But the novelty of parking and just sitting there, delighted to have found a parking spot, has at this point worn off for me. This is because of the Law of Diminishing Returns. The L.O.D.R. can be summed up by way of example thusly: if you start to spend any time with me, I will be fun to have around at first, just to blink at, and talk at, but then you will start to require me to do more and more entertaining things, like juggling, if I am to remain as intensely fascinating as I was when we first started to hang out. Then you will get bored of my juggling, and require me to sing and juggle at the same time. Then you will get bored of even that, and require that I spin in circles while juggling and singing, and eventually, rearranging your bedroom furniture, too, and HOW MUCH MORE interesting do you think a girl can become before you have to find someone new and newly interesting to you, without all the juggling spinning and singing and room redecorating?! Give me a break, people! Do you have any idea how hard that sort of thing is on my shoulders, not to mention my balance and sense of self worth?!?
And so it is with parking in parking spots. The novelty of parking in a parking spot has worn off; In order to again feel the thrill as the adrenaline begins to course through my veins, I need to actually be able to get out of the car. I need to be able to properly remove myself from the car without inadvertently flashing anyone, or dinging the side of the dark colored tank which rest on tires that come up to my shoulders parked next to me.
It really makes it hard for a girl to park her medium sized vehicle anywhere, especially if she wants to open her car door without chipping the paint on the vehicle of mammoth proportions parked next to her. Especially if she wants to actually get out of the car after she has parked it.
It is really a motivating factor to keep enduring grueling workouts. Like if I ever want to get out of my car again, I had better not gain an ounce. Otherwise I might park, and then be stuck in my car forever. But the novelty of parking and just sitting there, delighted to have found a parking spot, has at this point worn off for me. This is because of the Law of Diminishing Returns. The L.O.D.R. can be summed up by way of example thusly: if you start to spend any time with me, I will be fun to have around at first, just to blink at, and talk at, but then you will start to require me to do more and more entertaining things, like juggling, if I am to remain as intensely fascinating as I was when we first started to hang out. Then you will get bored of my juggling, and require me to sing and juggle at the same time. Then you will get bored of even that, and require that I spin in circles while juggling and singing, and eventually, rearranging your bedroom furniture, too, and HOW MUCH MORE interesting do you think a girl can become before you have to find someone new and newly interesting to you, without all the juggling spinning and singing and room redecorating?! Give me a break, people! Do you have any idea how hard that sort of thing is on my shoulders, not to mention my balance and sense of self worth?!?
And so it is with parking in parking spots. The novelty of parking in a parking spot has worn off; In order to again feel the thrill as the adrenaline begins to course through my veins, I need to actually be able to get out of the car. I need to be able to properly remove myself from the car without inadvertently flashing anyone, or dinging the side of the dark colored tank which rest on tires that come up to my shoulders parked next to me.
Blink.
(...But I am only 5'4.5" with a relatively short head, so that is not saying much...)
Blink.
...and then if I ding your door, I will have to leave a note on your windshield, "I am so sorry, I just dinged your door with mine, too bad you had to get the hugest vehicle on the block in order to feel okay about yourself. Here's my phone number and insurance policy and the rights to the third rib from my second born child's body."
You will read this note, and call me, and I will end up paying for the repairs, even though the ding I left matched the dings of all of the cowards around it who did not have the strength of character (Let the record forever show) to leave you a note on the envelope she scrambled up from the bottom of her purse. I'm just saying. Because really, if I could afford the repairs on your car, I could also afford to drive my own tank, and we could have it out at the same height at least. I'm just saying. It's just that I hate battle, and did not realize we were in our own inner and inter personal civilized war, until I saw you driving around in that tank.
...and then if I ding your door, I will have to leave a note on your windshield, "I am so sorry, I just dinged your door with mine, too bad you had to get the hugest vehicle on the block in order to feel okay about yourself. Here's my phone number and insurance policy and the rights to the third rib from my second born child's body."
You will read this note, and call me, and I will end up paying for the repairs, even though the ding I left matched the dings of all of the cowards around it who did not have the strength of character (Let the record forever show) to leave you a note on the envelope she scrambled up from the bottom of her purse. I'm just saying. Because really, if I could afford the repairs on your car, I could also afford to drive my own tank, and we could have it out at the same height at least. I'm just saying. It's just that I hate battle, and did not realize we were in our own inner and inter personal civilized war, until I saw you driving around in that tank.
-XOXO,
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