Delaware, parking tickets, food, oh my!
This afternoon was a good one. I left school around noon, returned a book at Borders, hit the post office and then went to Best Buy in Delaware for Indiana Jones and 28 Days Later and was home by 1:30. And all that time I was driving around the radio actually played good music. I didn’t have to drive with the blasted scan button on trying to find a song even once this afternoon, as opposed to my drive home from my evening class tonight.
So I was in a good mood this afternoon. I came home for a little over 2 hours and watched Carnivale while eating Ramen noodles (finally realized that minister guy from Everwood is on Carnivale). Chilled for a bit before going back to class.
On my way into class, I saw the public safety guy checking the cars in the lot and writing tickets. I had a feeling somewhere in my mind that I would come out to find one on my car, since I have yet to get around to registering the car and getting a commuter sticker for it. And yup, came out to see a lovely ticket on my windshield. $25 for not having a sticker and $25 for parking in a restricted zone, aka the commuter parking lot. I can probably get the second $25 fine lifted by telling them I am a commuter when I finally get around to getting my sticker, which I guess I’ll do on Thursday. As for the fine for not having a sticker, maybe I can weasel my way out of it.
Or maybe I can just change my license plate and they’ll never know, since they don’t know who the driver of the Nova is, as it’s not registered. So they don’t know who to charge for the ticket. I could just park it in the other lot and see what happens. Or go register my car and see what happens. I don’t know if they’ll put this into a computer and something will pop up when I register, or what.
Whatever.
The neighbor across the street came over for dinner, which I missed as I was at class. And I can hear them talking about me. I hate that. Why must people talk about me? Am I really that interesting of a conversation topic?
Must. Eat. Massive. Amounts. Of. Food. Now. I am near dying from starvation. And downstairs I go, hopefully able to avoid talking with people.
So I was in a good mood this afternoon. I came home for a little over 2 hours and watched Carnivale while eating Ramen noodles (finally realized that minister guy from Everwood is on Carnivale). Chilled for a bit before going back to class.
On my way into class, I saw the public safety guy checking the cars in the lot and writing tickets. I had a feeling somewhere in my mind that I would come out to find one on my car, since I have yet to get around to registering the car and getting a commuter sticker for it. And yup, came out to see a lovely ticket on my windshield. $25 for not having a sticker and $25 for parking in a restricted zone, aka the commuter parking lot. I can probably get the second $25 fine lifted by telling them I am a commuter when I finally get around to getting my sticker, which I guess I’ll do on Thursday. As for the fine for not having a sticker, maybe I can weasel my way out of it.
Or maybe I can just change my license plate and they’ll never know, since they don’t know who the driver of the Nova is, as it’s not registered. So they don’t know who to charge for the ticket. I could just park it in the other lot and see what happens. Or go register my car and see what happens. I don’t know if they’ll put this into a computer and something will pop up when I register, or what.
Whatever.
The neighbor across the street came over for dinner, which I missed as I was at class. And I can hear them talking about me. I hate that. Why must people talk about me? Am I really that interesting of a conversation topic?
Must. Eat. Massive. Amounts. Of. Food. Now. I am near dying from starvation. And downstairs I go, hopefully able to avoid talking with people.