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Riding Dirty

With power comes great responsibility. Sure, I may have knighted myself with said power and I shouldn’t be responsible for a cactus never mind anything else, but hey ho, we have to fake it till we make it sometimes.

 

Forget the rabbit parking officer from Zootropolis, (or Zootopia for my friends across the pond), I am Judy on crack when it comes to the parking in my street. There’s a chapter in my book all about it, but since then my god I’ve gone mad with power.

 



Yes, okay there are no laws that state you cannot park outside my house but it is just common decency god damn it.

 

I’m fully aware I am not the queen of my street, (although I definitely should be, I’ll start a petition), or anywhere else for that matter, but help a sister out and back the fuck up.

 

I don’t mind my neighbours stealing my spot if they aren’t going to be long. But you leave it overnight or worse for days and we are going to have some problems. I mean, I will absolutely not say a word to you about it but, ooff within the safe space in my house, with the doors locked and Carol to protect me, I will be raging. I still love you though, unless it’s the ones I don’t…

 



Lately, every fucker and their nan are parking in my street. It’s close to a uni so students park there for free then fuck off to their classes. It’s right next to a school and every parent seems to want to piss me off daily.

There’s also a new church around the corner and every man and his dog looking for guidance are trying to take over my street. I wish Jesus would give them further guidance to move it along far, far away from my street. Come on Jesus babes. Speak to the people.

 



Also, my anxiety makes me stress, obsess and overthink everything. So, I cannot rest until my car is back in its safe homely spot, where he feels warm and loved ya know.

 

I am ashamed to say this and please don’t think of me any differently, but I have resorted to something I never thought I would do. I Nikki McFarlane, the famous author, is now the proud owner of a traffic cone.

 

I never thought I’d see the day and since taking ownership, I am not the person I once was. I am a former shell of myself. An ashamed shell that hides beneath the cone.

 

I just had a brilliant idea, I should start sitting under the cone and yelling at people who dares to even pass my street never mind parking in it. I will require a much larger cone and a new parking space for my car whilst I am hiding, which kind of defeats the purpose. Nah, sounds like too much work. I’m not doing it now.

 



My bestie, Katherine Ryan recently posted a video on how a man made her move out of his neighbours parking spot. She was raging about how anyone can park where ever they want. She is completely correct and me and my traffic cone could not agree more. It made me laugh as I absolutely adore her and after my cone antics she would hate me. She would egg me in the street and I would absolutely deserve every single one. I’ll even supply the eggs.

 

Please still love me, Katherine. You speak nothing but the truth and now I’ve gone to the dark side of the parking wars I don’t think I can ever come back. I can’t even look at myself anymore. I regret everything but also nothing. I’m so confused…

 



The takeaway from this is please stay out of my parking space, and don’t even think about parking in it just to piss me off, because I will cry and moan to Carol and she won’t like that at all. Do you want to upset Carol?

 

Oh, and the traffic cone was to keep my space free when I go out and about if that wasn’t clear. I don’t have some fetish for traffic cones, they are not my colour.

 

Also, don’t touch my cone.

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