No Parking

I would bet that the majority of you have not spent enough time lauding the abilities of those who design the parking lots you use. In fact, you are probably the kind of selfish inconsiderate people who occasionally bitch about the inadequacy of parking facilities you use on a daily basis. I would like you all to know that designing a parking lot is not nearly as simple as you think it should be. It involves the government for God’s sake! Yes you can add that to your list of things to blame Bush for, not because it is his fault directly but because he is an asshole and he looks like a monkey on crack that was just whacked upside the head with a lead pipe. I believe that may be an accurate description of his day-to-day brain capacity as well but I digress.
I have spent all morning and early afternoon attempting to design a parking lot for an office building. I cannot make it work. Between planting strips and drainage calculations and square footage requirements and retaining walls, and and and the whole thing is a mess. It is a big, scary, “Where are the weapons of mass destruction?” size mess. I want to run screaming from the gargantuan pile of scraped site plans that has taken over my desk (in the most hostile of ways I might add). The frustration was really getting to me by lunch. I went out to the bathroom and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked disheveled to say the least. Not in that sexy “I might have just rolled out of bed after a long night (and perhaps morning) of amazing sex without the energy or care to make myself any more presentable” kind of way. No, this was much more like I had just been run over by a street cleaning truck at the end of his shift when the street cleaning brushes were all full of stagnant beer, bum piss, and pieces of paper people used to get dog shit off of their shoe. It was at this point I realized that I have had lots of caffeine and nothing to eat all day so I went to lunch.
It is now after lunch and I have to say that while I might look a little less like mentally deficient squirrel on meth flattened by a semi desperately clinging to one of its “I heart hooters” mud-flaps I still feel a little like I might just snap. So next time you feel like complaining about the parking lot at Safeway or your doctors office you might want to consider that fact that I could be somewhere near by and I am way overdue for some more anger management therapy.