Nor Cal
Justin lives in an apartment complex full of Asses. And as such, I suppose it's the same as most apartment complexes are... it's just that we got lucky with our last one.

There are Asses who party loud. There are Asses who have screaming sex. And there are countless Asses who take up his parking spot day in and day out because the management does fuckall about it.

This evening at arounf nine PM, there was an Ass or a Friend of an Ass outside honking, BEEP BEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP for minutes on end.

"Get out and knock, dipshit," said Justin under his breath. But the honking continued.

Several minutes later, I heard pounding on the door down the way. Then, suddenly, a knock sounded on our door, right as I was in the process of changing to get into the shower. I zipped up my pants and followed Justin into the vestibule. He opened the door and there stood the frattiest frat boy ever (who I shouldn't diss too much as he's probably providing me with the unsecured wireless connection I'm freeloading right now).

"Do you, um, know anything about that Pontiac parked in my spot out there?" he asked. I looked outside and all I saw wass the Yukon with the "nor cal" sticker on it that belongs to the Asses upstairs who always park in Justin's spot (or let their friends do it). This frat boy looked like the kind of Ass to drive such a car, come to think of it.

"No, sorry," said Justin. And from the tone of his voice I must have subconsciously known.

"It's not the same car that belongs to those people upstairs who always park in your spot, is it, hon?" I asked sweetly... as it dawned on me that this jock WAS the upstairs Ass with the parking problem. Justin shook his head, closed the door and gave me a look that said 'ix-nay on the arking-pay.'

He's left that jerk numerous notes and official warnings. He's even, in desperation, partially deflated his tires. And now, oh yes, turnabout is fair play.

Ha.