The day I shit myself

I didn't actually shit myself...at least not in the occasion that is to be described. But you sure fucking clicked on the link, didn't you, you sick-o.

I did however have a story about the time that I pulled a ten hour shift at the law office. Happily walked my ass two blocks to the "secure" parking garage where my car was parked, only to find the window busted in.

So the story goes like this...

It was a Friday...maybe Thursday. I should know this shit since it just happened a month ago. So after pulling this insanely long day at the office....well let me stop here and tell you about the office. It's a small firm. It's a little chaotic, unorganized at times. Some of the clients are cool and banter with you, but some of them are royal cockers who ride the last inch of patience I could ever have. And its usually the cunt climbers that I typically give all of my attention to that get UBER ANGRY WHEN I can't take the 55 minutes to listen to them bitch about god fucking knows what. To be honest, if it has nothing to do with the case I typically check out and jump on Reddit and the George RR Martin fan site.
 Fuck you, I lead an exciting life.
I mean, normally these clients just want to feel validated and heard, even if it is not relevant to the case whatsoever, so I try to do that for them. But then these bratty shits just take and take, and they can't seem to comprehend that I cannot devote so much time to the incessant complaining. So this particular day had a slew of these people. I am not kidding, every client that needed hand holding grew an extra fucking hand that day. It was a nightmare...To top it off, our checks were going to be distributed a day later than anticipated. Fuck me, shouldn't have bought the forty dollar wine when the "juice" box works twice as fast.

So I end the miserable day looking forward to a dinner with the babe and the cousin. And despite the long hours, I was going to have just enough time to make myself look like a lady and not the vagrant that rustled out of bed. I walk the block, all the while trying to navigate the marijuana reeking  ghetto kids. In my quest to be healthy, I walk the two flight of stairs to my car, slowly...no need to pull something. Since I was already exerting myself by walking up the stairs, I thought it best to park as close as possible to the stairs. Essentially putting the car in a perfect spot for a would be robber.

I walk past the passenger side and open the door to the driver side. BAM. My shit is all over the driver seat. Now, to those of you who know me, you will know that my car is the mother of all shit shows. It is filled with clothes, shoes, food, wrappers, water bottles (empty and full), decks of cards, cassette types, CD's, books, etc...this list could go on for days. The day my car does get cleaned is the day someone died and I am letting foreigners into the car. So to say that I noticed my shit was all over the place means that shit was torn the fuck up in that car. I mean they went through every god damn crevice and dug up shit I had not seen since I first bought the car in 2005. Now tack on the fact that I had a bunch of tupperware boxes with old christmas shit, nothing fancy. Just crap.

I instantly panic and call the babe. I didn't notice a broken window so for a moment I thought some paranormal, parking garage poltergeist shit was going on. As I am on the phone, on the verge of tears, which is not much different than any other day, I notice some crazy alien black looking shit on the seat of the back passenger side. I think, cool, any minute Fox Mulder is going to show up to fulfill all of my prepubescence sexual fantasies, like hand holding and shit. And then I realized, thats not alien shit, that glass, broken glass, from the back window that I had literally just walked passed.

But let me tell you, the joke was on the mother fucker that broke that window, got in my car, and went through all those piles. And believe me, there are a lot of piles...because there was absolutely nothing of value in my car, well, nothing of value to them. I do have the first and second CD babe made me last year, and the charm bracelet spelling out "Vanessa" that my goose princess made when she was four. But they were still there, and I was ok. Well, I was out 140 dollars to replace the window...you dirty rug rubbing motherfucker.

But its ok, it is ok. Because an awesome person made a voodoo doll for the asshole that broke in to my car...so fuck you dude.