Parked in a 1 hour parking space that was NOT AT ALL CONVENIENT to me in any way whatsoever considering I walked uphill toward my destination for five hours in the blistering sun.
Stared at the girl next to me the entire time, because she looked just like Paz Lenchantin. I wonder what Paz is doing working for the Department of Corrections while some asshat drones on and on and on about sexual harassment. She looks over at me as I gaze at her longingly. My hero. My beautiful, beautiful hero. Was it really worth leaving one of the best bands in the world to be a Staff Systems Analyst? What about your violin? Do you at least utilize it from time to time? It occurs to me that I'm probably qualifying as a sexual harasser when I hear my name.
"Say Colleen here is stalking me," says Asshat. I look down at the name tag plastered across my chest. "She's calling me. She's touching me. She asks me out over, and over, and over. She just can't take a hint." I scowl at him while everyone else laughs. Oh sure, buddy. I am indeed a very fine stalker. But don't flatter yourself.
12 hours later I emerge and hike back to my car, which is of course, smeared with a ticket. "We took photos of your car arriving and you've been here in excess of 60 minutes." Why would anyone, anywhere want to take pictures of my car. And who was doing it. Some guy in the bushes? Judging from what I learned today, that's sexual harassment. And I don't have to take it.