Tantrum on Ventura Boulevard

 

The SJG reacts to parking ticket

I got back to the car two minutes after 4 p.m.  Oh, fine.  It was more than that.  Three minutes.  Four tops. And there he was, the parking officer slipping the dreaded envelope under my windshield wiper.  I turned on the charmed.  "Hi!  Hey!  How you doin'?  Nice uniform!  Look, I'm here, no need to ticket me."  "I already did, ma'am."  "But... but..." He moved swiftly to his car.  I followed him.  "Wait, what's this mean?  Obstructing traffic?  I didn't obstruct traffic."  He got in the car and rolled up the window.  I dropped the charm act and gave him the famous SJG look.  Trust me, you don't ever want to get this look from me.  Hands on hips.  Hard eyes.  Scary stuff.  He rolled down the window.  "No parking after 4 p.m, ma'am," he said, clearly frightened of me.  I looked at the fine.  "Five million dollars?!  I don't have five million dollars." I started haggling.  "I can do two million. 2.5 million, but that's my final offer." "Take it up with the city, ma'am," he said, and rolled up the window.  "Hey, come back here!  Nobody effs with the SJG!"  He drove off mid-tantrum.  Heartless bastard.  In other news, all weekend, I'll be holding a fundraiser in Sherman Oaks.  Live music, dancing, All-U-Can-Eat Kugel Buffet.  Feel free to stop by and help me pay for my ticket.  Do me a mitzvah.  It'll make you feel good about yourself.