The fucking street sweeper
It's the first Tuesday of the month. That means street sweeping time. It also means I'm gonna owe the city ten bucks. This time I was ready for them . He usually trys to fuck me early like before ten or so, and I knew this. He lost the element of surprise, and surprise was crucial to victory. So as I triumphantly watched this behemoth of a vacuum suck up the last of the spiky gumballs from the gutter I felt good. I hate pissing away ten bucks a month. So I pulled my care along side my somewhat clean gutter and headed in to watch the Price is right. (Did I mention I'm still at home with a F'ed up back?)
About a half an hour later Carl starts barking, I look out the window and the fuckin city is giving me and JEN A CITATION!
I'm like, what the fuck. The sweeper already came by. Notice the somewhat damp and dishelved gutter. He said, "sign says no parkin'." It was on . I could bore you with the play by play. But the gist is I got fucked by a fat Biz Mark E looking meter maid to the tune of twenty ducates. This city sucks.
About a half an hour later Carl starts barking, I look out the window and the fuckin city is giving me and JEN A CITATION!
I'm like, what the fuck. The sweeper already came by. Notice the somewhat damp and dishelved gutter. He said, "sign says no parkin'." It was on . I could bore you with the play by play. But the gist is I got fucked by a fat Biz Mark E looking meter maid to the tune of twenty ducates. This city sucks.

