Some days – or perhaps some days in a row – there’s a gorilla perched on my shoulder.
You know when you have to change showers three times at the gym(because one doesn’t have a hot water tap attached, the next has no soap and viola! the third works – just like Goldilocks. But not.) that you have a large to giant-size monkey on your back. Add to that the fact that you have left your deodorant at home, post spin class and you’re on a
Tuesday morning dictated that I spin, shower, dash to the car, do makeup en route to appointment at 7.45am in order to get to said appointment on time. Hopefully said appointment only lasts a few minutes (jumping on the scale and getting crapped out by your dietician is usually only a small time commitment for both of us, travel aside) and then you get to break the land speed record negotiating the carpark that is New South Head Road to get to your office for a meeting by 8.30am.
Now provided that the universe is smiling down on you it’s all good. However, it did not want to turn that frown upside down yesterday. No siree Bob, it did not.
Cue me in the lift to the garage, sans make-up, explaining to the very smart gentleman stranger accompanying me that I didn’t have my face on because I was going to get to work on time by applying my artwork in the car because, today, I was not going to be a fuck up. He assured me that he felt it was going to be okay.
He clearly knew nothing. Nothing at all.
Approaching my car I saw that the roller door to the parking garage was firmly shut and the cars were starting to back up like no bodies business on a Tuesday. I was thinking about completely losing my shit but my tantrum would have been lost and menaningless in and amongst everyone else losing their shit.
After texting everyone I knew to tell them of my entrapment in the carpark, and receiving not a single text back – unsympathetic swines you lot are – a security guard for the shopping centre casually approached the roller door, inserted her key and the bastard thing lifted like the parting of the Red Sea. Someone (aside from me) was clearly late for work…….
By this time I was truly traumatised, having had to watch the middle aged woman in front of me using her car as a change room. There are some things a person should never have to see, early in the morning or otherwise.
Later that day, thinking that my monkey was shaken, having actually arrived at work on time after all that, and finishing up early from a filming session, hence banking myself an extra hour and a half in the office, I pulled into the lane where my garage is located to find myself confronted with a big ass garbage truck left unattended it seemed. To my right, where I would usually have gone overland and done the pavement rough terrain route, an X5 mom had parked at an angle, blocking the sidewalk and completely shutting off all escape options. She unloaded her baby into its pram and promptly fucked off down the road without a second thought. I do not know what is wrong with some people.
So I waited, thinking surely the Garbo was going to appear within seconds. And two minutes passed. And then he arrived with a very pissed off girl with bad skin, each toting a full bin. Into the truck, compression of garbage. And then they disappeared again for another two full minutes. I was thinking hanky panky in the lane but they re-appeared, garbage bins in hand and the process resumed. At this point I lost my shit and tried to bully my way up the truck’s bum to express my displeasure. I might have honked my horn. Well! You would have thought I was in the wrong. After screeching at me about bin juice and the possibility of my car getting sprayed he advised I retreat back to my former position.
And then they disappeared again, only to reappear another two minutes later carrying empty boxes by hand. Compression. Repeat, Repeat, Repeat.
Now you can imagine by this time that a considerable line of traffic had built up in the lane including the backpackers in one of those wicked campervans with the rude words parked beside me. They just shrugged and continued to smoke whatever it was that was keeping them so calm.
My overriding question after the truck moved 15 minutes later , aside from WTF?????, was about the pissed off girl with the bad skin and her role as the Garbette. No gloves, clearly not dressed for the occasion. Curioser and curioser. The Artist reckoned she was a girlfriend doing penance.
I would have shoved his head in that compressor. I think perhaps she wanted to.
Fast forward through Wednesday (uneventful) to this morning, being Thursday and what I hope is the final instalment in this zoological escapade of bad car karma monkeys. I stopped in a NO STOPPING zone to quickly run into a shop to pick something up. The Woollahra City Council take their NO STOPPING zones very seriously.
The word FUCK does not seem adequate. I hope that the fleas of a thousand camels infest the armpits of that Ranger or at the very least he gets a bad case of jock itch that is immune to hydrozole or anything currently provided by any pharmaceutical company in existence. A good dose of gastro would also not go unappreciated to keep the bastard off the streets so that parking offenders (like myself) are safe for a day.
Love and Light (but not to the Ranger)