Putting aside our president, a stupid war, my dad still smoking after two heart attacks, and fundamentalist christians that insist on putting up signs along the freeway and on their cars...there is nothing I hate more than Pasadena parking!

We are not allowed to park in front of our house between the hours of 2am and 6am. We have to get a parking permit to do so. Brian applied for a permit a couple of months ago and they denied him. It's such bullshit. We live in a duplex, which means we only have half of a driveway. Enough space for one car. But according to Pasadena we need to park in the garage. And if we want to store stuff in the garage instead of park we need a permit just for that. SUCH BULLSHIT!!!

So this morning I went to the parking office to try to get a permit for my car. I explained to the guy that we live in a duplex and only half of the driveway is ours. He didn't care. He didn't type it into the form. So I know that when they drive by to inspect our property and make sure that we need a permit... (how ridiculous is it that they actually inspect? and not to mention that we'll have to pay for the permit so why don't they just give it to us?) they are going deny us again, thinking that we can park in the driveway.

Don't worry, folks, we can appeal the decision! But to appeal we have to pay $100. Can you fucking believe that? To park in front of our own house. In a residential neighborhood with plenty of street parking!

Needless to say, I'm a tad emotional. So when I heard this story on NPR this morning I started balling. It's about an air traffic controller who saved two planes from colliding 35,000 feet up in the air. It's a cool story and made me feel a little better.