I hate this city. If someone told me I could wake up in Jersey tomorrow, or any other place for that matter, I’d stand up and cheer.
I wrote this on Friday:
I got a check from Google Adsense yesterday. I was ecstatic. I don’t make money of my own anymore. I figured I could buy Tobyjoe a little something because he’s been so awesome dealing with all of my crap lately. And so you can imagine my disappointment as I drove by our 31-year-old car on the way to get something to eat and noticed a big fat orange parking ticket slapped to its windshield. I was parked legally so why did I get the ticket?
Sitting on our desk at home was my new registration sticker. The one that was supposed to be placed in the windshield on the 7th of this month. Little did New York City parking attendants know (or care) was that at that very moment in time I was lying in a bed with tubes sticking into my cervix, my bladder, 2 in my arm, and one going directly into my spine. So, forgive me for not getting around to putting on the damned sticker.
Either way, there goes half of my Google Adsense check.
Yeah, so that sucked. Getting a ticket on a car that we’re trying to sell really sucked. But whatever.
Today it got worse. Today I looked out the window and saw another ticket on my windshield. I knew it wasn’t for my registration, I fixed that problem on Friday. So Tobyjoe went downstairs to check things out.
Well, it turns out a vehicle owner can’t sell a car in New York City. Only a dealer can sell a car in New York City. I got a ticket for having “For Sale” signs on my car, the same “For Sale” signs I have had on my car for about 3 months now. The same “For Sale” signs I had on my car on Friday when that other traffic cop gave me a ticket. What the hell? Where would I have found this information? There are cars ALL OVER BROOKLYN with signs on them. Do they all get tickets too? Because I find that hard to believe. And I got the ticket on a Sunday. This is up there with the time someone towed my car from one spot and moved it to another street entirely. Apparently, there was a movie shoot that day. But no one put up any signs. Had there been signs, I wouldn’t have parked there. It took me hours to find it, hours of sitting on the phone asking random tow truck companies if they knew where my car was. This has happened to numerous other people as well. Lastly, if anyone sees a blue, 1975 Volvo in Brooklyn, it’s for sale. You probably can’t tell because we can’t put signs in its window, but it’s for sale. OK?
Seriously, I am so out of here. I’ve had it with this sort of crap. I’m already stressed out. I’m already tired. This is just one more thing that makes me want to leave this city. Stick a fork in my ass, I’m done. Oh, and I need a drink.
P.S. For those of you who feel compelled to write about how much you love this city, kindly refrain from doing so today. I will delete your comments. I am that pissed off right now.