Defensive Tactics

This is an old story, but one about hobo's and downtown nonetheless.

We were pulling in one night, to the parking spot we shared with the dumpsters, to find a common man rifling through our coveted bins.

As if there is a question as to what this hobo is working on, I ask, "What are you doing?"

He probably said something unintelligible like, "uheeisondrr" or stupid like, "Collecting awesome used bottles," but I don't remember because after I told him to leave because this was our parking spot and not his bedroom he said:

"First I have to go the bathroom."

This is the point where I explain that at the time we were driving this complete piece of crap, but at times I miss that little crappy car. There is something to be said for a junker car that you don't have to worry about. But the point being that the trunk in this heap o'trash didn't exactly close in the traditional sense of the word.

As, yes as, he is doing his business he follows up with, "Nice car..." snickering.

I respond, wittily I might add, "Yeah... I'm really concerned about your opinion when you don't even have a 'real' bathroom to use."

That touched a nerve. He started hollering about how I can't talk to him like that and continued his tirade as he skulked, slinking away and as soon as he was safely away from us he shouted out his verbal personal insults to me.

Well, that touched a nerve with my man. He shouted at him, "If you ever talk to my wife like that again I will shove that beer bottle so far up your ass you won't be able to breathe ever again."

Racist!

I am showing an apartment to a relocation specialist, who is viewing a studio for her client.

She says to me, "The space is not very large... but,... she's from China."

I'm thinking of how to respond, wondering if I'm missing how China and a small studio go together when she follows up with:

So she doesn't need anything very large," she turns to me and smiles, "How much space does she need?"

(And yes! the pictures are back!)

Breaking Up Contest!

I know at least one other person who wanted to post a break up story, so I am going to stretch the deadline a couple more days, until April 5! But no longer - Judging will begin April 6.

Now... for those of you without a blogger/gmail account, don't fret! You can post no matter who you are! Just click comment!

Remember the prize: a stained spacemountainman t-shirt, a lighter, a book, a used backpack... bascially all the things you would need to attract your own attention from the downtown hobo's!

Now! Start posting!

Hit & Run

While sitting in my parked car downtown, waiting while my husband took care of something quickly, I was hit... twice.

The first time by the person parked in front of me leaving. They got into their vehicle, backed up, hit me and hurriedly pulled forward and left screeching into the street.
LICENSE PLATE # ZUZ 713
LEXUS ES30

Soon thereafter another person pulled into the vacant parking spot, parallel parking his vehicle and hitting me as he was backing in. I waited for him to get out of his vehicle and say something to me, but he must have anticipated an ambush because he remained cowering in his vehicle.

Truly? No damage was done by either vehicle, but I have to say that I was surprised at the lack of admission. I don't doubt that they also figured no damage was caused, but certainly you would think people have the decency to get out and at least ask.

My husband arrived back at the car at this point, and because this car was parked so bloody close to me I had to get out to write down the license plate number:
LICENSE PLATE: #YXT 543
ACURA 3.2 CLS

As I wrote it down, I pointed to it and gestured towards the man in his car. He finally got out of his vehicle and walked over to me.

"Is something wrong?" he asks me.

"Yes, ... you hit my car."

"I barely tapped you," he snided.

"True, but not the point. The point is you hit me, and then sat in your car hoping I wouldn't say anything," I retorted.

"I didn't realize you were in the car, I was talking on my cell phone."

"You were on your cell phone while parallel parking???"

"Uh...."

"No wonder you hit me!"

"I only barely tapped you."

"And like I said, while that is true you still didn't have the decency to say anything. Don't worry though, I got your license plate number, and make and model of your car." He looked quite scared.

I didn't have any intention of doing anything with it, but I figured to send him for a ride nonetheless.

"I'm really sorry," he pleaded.

"Well, ... if I may offer a suggestion. Next time don't cower in your car like a punk!" and I rolled up the window and we left.

Tomorrow is Easter

A bum, of course, is standing in the doorway of Fred Meyer pestering a Security Guard with his postulations as I was leaving today. He is literally standing in front of the door, taking up one half of the entrance. Anyone wanting to come or go at the same time as anyone else, must wait because he, like most everyone else, is busy busy busy worrying about himself.

Because he's standing in the doorway I have to wait for someone to enter before I can exit, and I overhear a portion of his soliloquy.

"I don't understand what's so cool about some guy getting nailed to a cross."

I need a minute to process this.

Now do you understand why I hate hobo's?