This kind of stuff drives me nuts…

There, I said it!

And if you’re a decent human being, it might just drive you crazy, too.

Are you wondering what the hell I’m talking about?

Read and you’ll get the picture…

Don’t block my car in.

“My wife and I live in an old Victorian style house in a college town split into two apartments – our 2 bedroom downstairs, and a 4 bedroom upstairs.

The first year it was occupied by nursing students, who were great. They all finished their rotations and moved out, and we got a set of MBA students who were jerks.

At first we thought “Oh they’re young, we’ll politely complain when they don’t clean up their dog crap/have a Tuesday night kegger/play COD so loud it rattles our windows, they’ll figure it out and it will be OK.”

Nope!

Well, it wasn’t. Their response to our requests were annoyance and non-compliance, which opened the door up for me to engage is passive – aggressive revenge tactics, and I have many stories from the year they resided above us.

One Monday morning, after a pretty raging party upstairs I came outside to find my car parked in by the upstairs neighbor my wife had nicknamed  **** hammer (CH for short).

Now in the lease we had exclusive use of the driveway, upstairs were supposed to park on the street – however they often parked behind us when street parking was scarce.

So I knocked on the door to get them to move the car so I could go to work.

Only there’s a problem – CH has left that morning on Spring Break vacation. He won’t be back for two weeks.

What a jerk!

After I had recovered from contemplating exactly how much of a syphilis ridden wanksock of a human being you would have to be to illegally park in your downstairs neighbor and then leave for two weeks, I rang the non emergency police line and explained my situation.

They tried to contact CH, to no avail, so my legal recourse was to have the car towed to a legal, vacant spot on the street at my own expense.

Which, given I had to go to work, was what I would have to do.

While I was waiting for the tow truck, I hatched a mature, and a juvenile revenge plan.

Juvenile plan first, I got a bottle of DOT3 brake fluid and a rag out, and utilizing the extent of my artistic abilities, painted a big old **** and balls on the hood, with a pew pew pew of pee going over the roof, and left it to bake in.

The mature part of the plan came to fruition when the tow truck arrived. Our city has a penchant for street sweeping, and tow cars enthusiastically when doing so.

They had just put up signs down one side of our street notifying that they would be sweeping in four days.

I reserved a spot that side of the road for CH’s car, and had the driver put it there. I let him in on the plan, as he was contracted to tow cars for the city that day.

He giggled a lot at my slowly emerging artwork, and said he’d try and pick up CH’s car early, knowing that if he was away for two weeks, his company would be able to rack up a nice storage fee.

The day came, and the tow driver who moved the car came straight to CH’s car and towed it.

Sorry, dude…

I had dropped a note in CH’s letterbox explaining, without being rude, that he had parked me in, and I had to have his car moved, at my expense so I could go to work.

Cue him coming back and furiously pounding on my door. “Where’s my car?” he demanded.

I explained I had moved it to the other side of the street, into a legal car space because neither the police or I could contact him.

The city had swept the street last Thursday. They had towed it. He’d need to call the city.

It wasn’t cheap!

He stormed off, furious, only to return a few hours later.

Apparently the combination of the city’s fine, the tow fee and ten days storage totaled over $1,000.

And his car had been (hilariously) vandalized at the tow yard.

He demanded I pay. I politely declined – suggesting that he might try small claims court if he could demonstrate I’d done anything I was liable for. He never took me up on the offer.

The artwork had come out great – the car had been left in the rain so the giant **** on the hood of his beat up Civic had rusted in.

Apparently it even earned him the nickname **** Wheels in class.”

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Can’t we all just get along?

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