THESE PEOPLE SUCK AT LIFE
So my car was recovered. It wasnt a pretty sight. It was found in a ditch without wheels and about half the motor. There was a lot more damage, but that isnt what this rant is about. Its about my dealings with the towyard that the car was brought to. Its this shitty little place at the end of a cul de sac in the industrial zone in Kansas City, right next to a trailer park. Gloria, The toothless wonder working the front desk, was the person with whom I had the pleasure of conversing. She had a bun hairdo and smelled like Waffle House.

Gloria: You were driving with an expired registration.
Me: no i wasn't
Gloria: yes you were.
Me: look at the fucking license plate. see that little number next to the month? the little 04?
Gloria: (sheepishly shifting her fat ass from one side of her stool to the other) The paperwork that was in the car wasn't up to date
Me: What the fuck were you doing in my car?

After I escaped Gloria's wit, I was able to look upon my sorry car uninterrupted. Or so I thought. I started removing things like cds, my parking pass, and assorted clothes, and this geriatric hick on a forklift pulled up and told me i couldnt take anything out of it because the insurance company hadnt taken possession of it yet. I didnt want to argue with this guy cause he looked like an older "Blue" from Old School. If thats possible. I started putting shit back in and pocketed whatever I could while the old fucker wasn't watching. I dont think he even knew where he was. As i put the shit I pilfered from my own car into my brother's car, I thought about how pitiful this place actually was. I was depressed after five minutes in this shithole. Gloria must be ready to commit suicide. All I have to say to that is: Remember Gloria, when slitting your wrists, its down the road, not across the street.