Put One More Ticket On My Windshield and I'll Rape Your Pores

You can never know exactly what everyone around you does for a living. You could unkowingly be standing next to the assassin who killed your best friend with some licorice and a dimmed EXIT sign right this minute. A lot of people hide their professions from the world because, let's be honest fuckers, a lot of them are embarrassing. You don't want your neighbors, or the meat slicer at the deli counter knowing that you're the jack off who works on a pre-made salad factory assembly line with the noble task of crumbling the gorgonzola before the dip-shit next to you applies the candied walnuts as the finishing touch. No wonder why your cheese is "bleu"- it's the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard. There are jobs like this one, that people hide for fear of public humiliation, but they don't even hold a candle to the ones that people conceal out of fear for their bodily safety. If this genre of person were standing around just shooting the shit at a cocktail party and it somehow slipped out just exactly what they did as a profession, their eyeballs would end up on a cheese plate watching their severed legs float lifelessly in the punch bowl...

YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE...YOU GODDAMN PARKING METER MAIDS!

Being a meter maid means you are quite simply the biggest makred man/woman on the planet. The rage that one feels as they happily approach their guilty vehicle after completing a day of errands, only to find a bullshit $70 ticket slapped tightly betwixt the wiper and the windshield, goes unrivaled. To be brutally honest, I hate you all with a burning passion. If I return to my car even 9.6 seconds past my expired time, then you assholes will have undoubtedly already written me a ticket for a handsome chunk of change. I just want to park a shotgun in your a-hole, blow you to bleu cheese crumbles, throw you in a hearse and park it in a No Stopping Anytime zone.

Come to think of it I would also like to change my profession from Candied Walnut Technician to another one that people try to keep 6 feet under wraps: Cemetery Monitor.

Founding a cemetery reserved solely for parking meter maids would create a buzz bigger than Disney World. Just hear me out. Each gravesite would have a shiny, new, parking meter directly in front of it with a miniscule, confusing, bullshit sign: 1 Hour Death Zone Only-You Can Be Dead Here For A Maximum of 60 Minutes Between 8am and 6pm Mon. - Thurs. Except Sunday - Violators Will Be Exhumed.

Once you were buried there, it would be up to you're family to stop by and feed the meter periodically. Then, people like myself, would march up and down the graveyard slapping bright red VIOLATION stickers on every time expired headstone. You're family would go beserk always having to stay on top of this chore and eventually give up...in which case I would drive over to your plot in my off white Mazda equipped with a menacing yellow siren, dig you up, throw a 60 pound hook and chain around your legs (scratching and denting you up) and tow you over to a junkyard where your loved ones can come bail you out for a mere two hundred and twenty dollars a pop....Go Fuck Yourselves....

Actually Parking Meter Cemetery Monitor is a respectable profession if you ask me...Send your resumes to murdermetermaids@hotmail.org and you can be a P.M.C.M. too!