Biting Off More Than I Can Chew

I've done it again and bitten off more than I can chew, or can afford to pay for. Why is it that right when you need money the most, everything kind of collapses in on itself? How can I be a 26 year old woman and still I haven't figured out basic life stuff?

Actually, stop. Rewind. Since this is only the second blog I've written all year, I should probably try and start it off on a positive note.

Actually, fuck that. I feel like bitching.

First of all, I'd like to publicly say "Screw You!" to the security company that works at my complex. Listen, pendejos, you've seen my car. You know that the driver of the ugly white deathtrap Mazda 323 is the cute, friendly, charming girl from unit #273. You know me. I'm the one who always smiles and merrily says hello to you every time I see you even though the entire world knows that rent-a-cops are virtual toolbags.  You know that I can be a little bit of a space cadet from time to time and park in the wrong spot when I'm unloading groceries, but you love me for my free spirited and whimsical nature. It brightens your days when you turn the corner and see me climbing through my second story window wearing a miniskirt because I locked my keys inside of my room.  So, why oh why did you feel like it was so necessary to tow my car last Monday? I could have used that money for good, and instead you forced me to used it for evil by making it necessary to fork it over to a reprehensible tow company that will do nothing but buy and sell crack to kids.
Maybe instead of concentrating your efforts on complicating the lives of innocent and well-meaning people, you should be compiling a report on my downstairs neighbors who deal crystal meth and steal air filters from cars in the parking lot. That is if you aren't too busy making shadow puppets on the asphault, which seems to be your primary occupation at 2 am. Just an observation.

Speaking of my crackhead neighbors, I'd also like to say to publicly say "bite me!" to the their 2 mini pins who antagonize the entire neighborhood. Last week, they drove Bonsai to the brink of insanity with their incessant yapping and he charged their window headfirst, breaking it, causing a huge scene and costing me well over 200 dollars.
Also, to the person who is stalking me, could you be a little less cryptic in the notes you leave on my car. I don't know what to think about the last one-- "FYI, you should be concerned for your safety". That would definitely never be written into the script of a horror movie, and there's a reason for that. It's boring and too ambiguous.

In addition, I'd like to give a shout out to Sima, the smog-repair technician who was so friendly and jovial and let my car pass the smog test (even though it really shouldn't, being the smoky little tin can that it is). I wondered why, when I looked in my rear view mirror, you seemed to be sighing with relief. I then realized it is because you broke my key off in the ignition. Thank you, Sima, as I am perfectly ok with leaving my broken key in the ignition 24/7 as no one with a modicum of pride would steal my car (even though apparently, I should be concerned with my safety).