What you do not see here is the 5 miles of open terrain to Asshole's left, and the pole to my right that basically resides in my car now. But that's not nearly the worst of it. Asshole must have utilized whatever sobriety and/or brain cells he/she/it had remaining when it managed to get the majority of its Asshole ass in its own parking space the previous evening. Congratulations.
Mine (the one not parked like an asshole) broke down the other week, and I lacked the will to find out what was wrong with it. So I made plans to put it in neutral and romantically push it into the river, deciding at the last minute whether or not to join it.
In the meantime, I took the bus. Let me tell you, public transportation is not as awesome as say, Seinfeld would have you believe. Cabs and subways and trains. Pfft. In California, it's not hip and urban. What it is is an announcement to the world that you are a huge failure at life. I personally make that announcement in a myriad of other ways. This is overkill.
On the bus, it's me, the cast of Good Morning Meth, and former/future inmate slash penpal Roland. It stops every 5 seconds for some other crackhead to get on. It's just so not cool. There is no way in hell I could even pretend that it was even a teeny bit cool. Not even with a fucking Ipod. To add insult to injury, I do not possess an Ipod.