Doinks. They're all over the place.

This evening, as I got into my car in the parking lot at the end of the day, I found a little pink piece of paper on my car. "You scratched my car.(little arrow pointing to one side) I am reporting your tag." Of course, there is no identifying information on this little piece of paper -- name, phone number, their car info etc.

Excuse me? Who are you? Number one, I am always very conscious when I open and close the doors of my car, because it's rude to ding someone's car when you get out. I know that the spaces are tight, and behave like a human being accordingly. I squeeze out of my car just to not ding someone's car, and I did so this morning as well, even though I did note that the car that happened to be next to me a the time was really close to the line.

Number two -- I have been giving a ride to a colleague who totalled her car last week, and she was in the car with me. I have been carefully paying attention how she opens the passenger door (carefully, by the way) when she gets out. She said "I was watching you this morning, because the other car was so close and I remember thinking that you were great in not getting the door of the other car when you got out".

Number three -- who are you? How do you leave a note talking about what I did, when I have no idea who you are? Which car were you? Nice how you can get so weird in a parking lot and threaten to "report people" (to whom? Is this kindergarden?) and not leave your name. Coward.

Number four -- How do you know who scratched your car? You either were the car that was there when I pulled in, which I did not touch, in which case you weren't there to see me pull in. How do you know that the car that was there when you pulled out was the same one that allegedly 'scratched' your car? I could have been the fifteenth car in that space today, and for all I know I may have been. (no paint off of my car in the place where I would have "scratched' you, anyway -- you're obviously not a very astute observer). Or, if you were a different car than the one that I parked next to this morning (some kind of silver, two door muscle-ish car), how on earth did I scratch you if I was there when you came in and there when you left?

Number five -- Because you parked so close to the line, I remember looking at the silver car to see how many dings it had from people whacking into it because you were such a rude and inconsiderate parker. There weren't any noticeable blemishes on that car that I could see. I think there's some law in Virginia that your penis falls off if you straighten out your car when you pull into a tight space -- just turn that baby into the space, leave the wheels turned and over the line into the next space, because you will turn gay if you actually straighten out and leave enough room for someone else to park.

Number six -- It's a car, doink. If someone takes out your headlight, cracks a windshield or drives into the entire side of your car that's one thing. You park in a parking lot in the real world, sometimes people may breathe on your car, no matter how hard you want it to stay pristine, and no matter how many hours you spend waxing it on the weekends and singing songs to it. You know, there may be a reason why you don't have a girlfriend.

Doinks. I feel better now.