jennings rampage

Enough local flavor for one night.

So, this just happened:

Everytime I went outside today, someone was sitting on my car. Like, on it, on the trunk or on the hood or leaning up against it. Now, Calle 109 has a bit of local flavor, by which I’m referring to the cultural tradition of sitting on the stoop for the hanging out, and that doesn’t bother me one bit. But once you start hanging out on top of the Dodge Stratus, I get a little antsy.

About an hour ago, I was in my room watching Grand Slam on the DVR, when Jason poked his head in and told me that nearly the entire neighborhood was sitting on my car. So I slapped on the sandals and went upstairs and like the passive-aggressive douchenozzle that I am, set off the panic alarm out of sight from behind the gate. I let it go for about thirty seconds. No one moved an inch. I waited about a minute, and then set off the panic alarm for a second time. No one budged. The third time, I told myself that I’d let it ring until they moved, so I started it up and people started shouting from the windows for that racket to end and the kids finally scooped up their 20 ounce Cokes and got off my car. The only problem was, my fob wasn’t deactivating the alarm from where I was hiding, I had to show myself to get close enough to the car. I left them with a curt and awkward “thanks, guys,” and went downstairs to ponder how badly I fucked myself.

A minute later, I went to peek at my car, and it was free of local teenagers. Good. I told myself I’d go check again in fifteen minutes, and if no one was there, I’d just forget it for the night.

Five minutes later, I went back up there, and two girls were planted on my hood again. I walked straight to my car, unlocked it, said, “excuse me,” and the girls hopped right off, since riding on my hood would have been awkward for all three of us. I took about a ten minute drive, circling around for some place to park, but I couldn’t find anything on the Tuesday/Friday side of the street (since it’s Wednesday night), and I can’t babysit my car in the morning (since I have a job interview at 9:30am). I drove back past my old spot and it was still there, and with the most comfortable seat on the block gone, the party had broken up. So I put my car right back where I left it. So, like, we’ll see how that goes.

You know what this is? Motivation to land one of these jobby-jobs and put the Stratus in a motherfuckin’ garage, that’s what. It’s also motivation to land a job to be able to afford to take the Stratus out for a spin — I miss driving so very very much. And I can’t park on the block on Saturday for the “block party”? Do we really need a city-sanctioned “block party”? Calle 109 takes care of itself. C’mon.

P.S. — I just realized that maaaaaaaybe I can’t pass a breathalyser right this minute. Kids, don’t drink and circle the block.