So I am gonna take you through the spiritual journey of what happens when your car gets impounded by the police. Yes, I had the pleasure of waking up from a friends house, getting a ride to my car and seeing that it's *not* there. I knew my car is a hunk of junk and you wouldn't want to steal it. I also knew that I locked it and there was no glass around. Then I figured it out - usually when I park my car downtown along the square of 30 minute parking - it's 11pm and it's a weekend - and these rules don't go into effect unless it's the weekday. I stupidly forgot that if I parked it past 8am on a Friday that it would get a ticket. Well, it was 11am, and they got tired of putting tickets on it every 30 minutes - so they towed it. Dammit.

So I have my pal Stephanie drive me down to the police station to find out how to get my car back and what this little "incident" will cost me. The lady at the desk was as smart assed as I figured she would be. Dammit.

"Ok I need some ID"
(I show her my license)
"Ok I need some proof of the fact that it's your car - title, tag registration"
(oh sure, those things are always just hanging around in my purse - just like my passport, birth certificate and the title to my house)
"I don't have that - I foolishly left the registration - IN THE CAR"
(She's heard this before and is already calling Billy Bob's Towing to let them know that I will be going to rummage through the car hoping my papers are there)

So we get there and I am led by a guy (I am assuming this is Billy Bob) with three good teeth left and an IQ to match to my car which is sitting in a giant muddy puddle. I open the trunk and then the glove box and realize that I have kept every paper the car ever needed from tire receipts to valet tickets including every registration paper from 10 years back (something my dad started since this used to be his car). I am looking through everything that he kept in this plastic bag which somehow got ripped open so the whole paper stack is wet and sticky. Ugh! Billy Bob himself offered to help me out by looking as well - but since he couldn't read - he couldn't find the right one either. Dammit. I drive back to the police station with my mess o' papers.

"What is this?"
"Those are papers that I have gathered - I can't seem to find the right one - can ya help me out?"
(I am so pleased that Little Miss Prozac will have to rifle through them and perhaps ruin a nail)
"I can't find it either - you need to get a copy of the most recent registration from either the courthouse or Bruno's (a grocery store chain)"

So now Stephanie and I are forced to drive to the other side of town where I can get a copy of my recent registration. She waits in the car while I go inside. They are having their lunch break when I get there and it's 10 to one - so I have ten minutes. I go back to where stephanie is and wait until 1pm. When I get back to the counter - there are 5 people in line. Where did they come from? How did they know about the lunch break? Dammit.

While I am in line, I am accosted by a man in a dirty sweatuit and a child as dirty to match. I didn't get far enough away from him as his little girl reaches out and grabs my hair "to make it look pretty." I think we all know I feel about kids - there is a reason I have not breeded at this time. The dad felt the need to start up a conversation. I wish he would have squashed that need.

"Kids?"
(At this point I thought he was saying "kiss" and I didn't even want to go near that child with gloved hands - much less my mouth so I just smile at him with gritted teeth)
"Kids?"
(I understand him this time)
"No, none whatsoever"
"How come?"
(A million things that I want to say come to the edge of my tongue - cuz I would beat them, cuz I would eat them, cuz I can't take care of myself much less a devil spawn of my own)
"Because I am not married" (I say this for the sake of the child - I am still am not sure as to why)
"Oh, that never stopped me. I have eight so far and I am not gonna quit till I beat my Pappy's record of 13"
"Good to have a goal" (I really want to say something else about the fact that I would rather not pay for his welfare dependents - but I stop again)
"Wanna a Lortab" (For those that don't know - this man is offering me drugs. Now my face is really hurting because it's my tight lipped smirk that is stopping me from either screaming, running, or smacking the shit of him for bothering me)
"Oh, no thank you - trying to quit" (*NOTE TO MOM - I don't do drugs - this was simply a line to get this man away from me -- it didn't work*)
"What for?"
(AARRGGHHH!!!)

Thankfully it was this man's turn in line next and he and I are both saved from my verbal assault. Stephanie and I are back on our way to the police department to deal with Little Miss Prozac again. She gives me my paperwork, I pay a good deal of money in fines, and I am back over to Billy Bob's for some more fun by having to back my car out of a deep mud puddle in zero room under the fine directing of Billy Bob himself - I now know why most of the cars are banged up in his lot.

This will not be happening again. This was not pleasant and a complete waste of money and an afternoon/morning. Special thanx to Stephanie for carting me around and laughing at all the pitfalls I had - good that if I can't laugh at me - someone else can.