It's all about respect

This shirt reminds me of the time OL came to see me when I lived in Spokane. She and I had been apart for quite awhile and had never met my boyfriend (now ex), so the two of us met up with A at the Old Spaghetti Factory. After a nice getting-to-know-you dinner, the three of us piled into my Neon and gave A a lift to his car.

I will drive round and round city blocks looking for a metered parking space just so I don't have to pay $8 to park in a lot for two hours. But A has this thing about not paying for parking -- at all. He parks at gas stations and customer-only lots, many of which have clearly posted signs warning all of the wrath to come from parking in a restricted area. Maybe he just thinks that he can pay the fine with a credit card and be done with it.

When we arrived at the local diner just down the street (beware of Molly's Restaurant -- they mean business), his car was nowhere to be found. It took us a couple moments to realise it had been towed.

But I guess those fucking assholes were just doing their jobs.


I would hate to work at a towing company. Those guys don't get any respect. And that's what I'm all about. Which is why I work in the box office at a cinema, wearing a god-awful vest and bow tie.