Thursday, July 15, 2004
Pay My Parking Ticket
This is the reason why I don't leave the house. You go out to paint a pretty picture at the beach and get a $50 ticket because you parked there to paint it:
So if anyone out there wants to buy this thing for $75.00 (the ticket plus materials and shipping), it's yours. I've had it. I'm never leaving the house again.
On the other hand, I saw an outing of elderly nuns sunning themselves on the sidewalk just next to the beach (their wheelchairs don't work well in sand). And heard a couple arguing with delightful wittiness. Sample:
"They want me to play background music."Wait a minute. Phones on the beach don't actually say "ring ring". I stop writing all this down and look back over at them. The woman is standing, one hip out, with a fake phone to her ear, the man leaning back with a newspaper with what looks like a script on his lap. Now the woman is chattering away on the imaginary object next to her ear and I feel so very happy, because I haven't found out about the parking ticket yet. So I happily paint away, listening to this charming couple as they turn more and more absurd.
"Background music? You are background music."
"In a massage parlor. They need to class the place up.'
"In a massage parlor? Let me get this straight. You're going to add a touch of class to a whore house?"
"Awwww... you're just making this all up. And if you're not, I'm going to have to kill you very, very slowly."
If anyone knows the play, let me know.
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