Okay. About two weeks ago the big ugly stupid black Lincoln Towncar parked next to me in our assigned parking spots at my temporary Boston apartment building backed out and ripped into the side of my car. He doesn't live in my building, rather he rents the spot from someone who does. Apparently, he was of the belief that I would not call my insurance company and the police and the managment of the building and track him down, or that I would create a comprehensive photographic record (including pictures of matching tape measured marks) of the damage. It is my first new car. I love it. I am proud to have gotten to where I am in life that I can afford it. And this person thought I wouldn't care?

Okay. This morning I went outside only to find a scratch alongside the other side of my car. Are you f*@#king kidding me? For a thorough discussion of my frustration, see the above paragraph. Of course, the only thing more incredible then my disbelief in general is my lack of disbelief in specific. Let me backtrack.

When I was looking for the car that damaged my driver side, I looked at the car on my passenger side, a white something with NY plates. Every single corner and side of the car was dinged, scratched, or dented. I almost gave up right then. Then again, what jury wouldn't believe he/she did it? I can just seethis person at the Massachusetts DMV right now.

"Excuse me sir, can you drive?"
"Yes"
"Can you park?"
"Maybe."
"Well, that's good enough for me. Here's your license and registration."

And yes. This is the person who hit my car the second time. At least in New Orleans they have the common courtesy to total your car. At least then you get compensation for pain and suffering.