(this photo is a hopefully exagerrated imagining of what I look like when eating a Lindt ball or three)
Some of my gorgeous regular readers will have remembered that I recently got a parking ticket from those Stinking Zombies With Hearts Like Shrivelled Currants at uni a few weeks ago. (If not, check it out here: http://blurbfromtheburbs.blogspot.com/2006/11/im-angry-really-angry-i-got-parking.html)
The universal truth of the old adage, 'Small things amuse small minds' can also apply to petty revenges. No half million person rallies against the car parking nazis have yet occurred; nor have they begun to chase me for non-payment of fine or had my visage, Che Guevara-like emblazoned onto students' t-shirts, but a tiny victory occurred this morning.
Maybe 'tiny' is being a bit on the exaggerated side - perhaps miniscule or sub-cellular is more honest but it cheered me up nevertheless and stirs vague feelings of future outcomes (or that could be the iced coffee wrestling with the bunch of grapes I had for breakfast, but let's go with the more symbolic theme for today).
Most begrudgingly, I parked the Womanly Wagon in a designated paid parking spot. One buck for ten hours. A bargain in city parking terms, but a shameful rip-off out here in the 'burbs. As I was standing there contemplating that not only did I disagree with the additional money making of car-parks originally installed for the clapped-out 70s Corollas of students or dented station wagons of workers, but also that the ticket buyer had to then insert their thumb and forefinger up inside the machine in a macabre, mechanistic gesture of foreplay in order to retrieve the sodding ticket.
God, or one of his apprentices, must have been smiling in my general direction just then, because the Putrid little Parking Pole threw out a techno burp and my one dollar coin. "Use Another Machine", its unfriendly little digi-screen told me and as I was about to flounce off to find another Ticket Tool, it burped again. Clink clink - out came two twenty cent pieces! You could have strapped my face to the side of a termite mound and smeared my face in honey I was that surprised.
Bonus! After several seconds of intense deliberation, I have since decided that this revered forty cent gift will be carefully stored for any future action - or equipment - needed to fight the good fight against the inappropriately named 'Tenix Solutions'. Bring it ON baby.