What the...?!

Alright, what the hell is this?! Apparently, Eureka Pizza didn't get the memo regarding my policy on windshield wiper promotional material. To recap, the answer is:

1) No.
2) Uh-uh.
3) Get away from my car.
4) Or I swear I'll go to Pizza Hut.

I know that sounds a little unfair because, after all, the dude was just doing his job. But good lord! Aren't there other parking lots to terrorize besides mine? Methinks the answer must be no. Ger.

Okay, new topic. Lookie what I made. Thought I'd photograph Jerry in his element -- walking behind the car carrying his fishing pole. So very Andy-Griffith-ish. In short: a masterpiece.

Also, for all those curious (read: all of you), I scrapbooked last night for hours. Right after the homecooked meal Jerry prepared. And right before I layed on the couch reading my book. I believe that is what we like to call "The Royal Treatment." Yes.

And perhaps the best news of the day -- prepare yourselves: I called the city hall to see what their hours were so I could come by and pay my speeding ticket. So the lady is pulling up my name, the ticket number, my mother's maiden name -- anything -- in order to find my file. But it has gone the way of plastic jelly shoes -- just disappeared. Turns out, the police officer's radar was on the blink and they've voided out my ticket. I'm in shock, but not so surprised. I just knew going 59 in a 40 wasn't technically speeding. Let that be a lesson to them.