Oct.19.2006 My car has been graffitotagged. Twice. In four days.
That’s right. Not even with a splendiforous crosssection of wackily spelled names in bubble letters. Rather, someone just sprayed black spray paint in squiggles across my car with complete abandon.
Now it’s not as bad as the car in this picture above, but nonetheless, it’s not the most pleasant thing on earth to see your car with black paint on the windows, on the taillights, on the body. Oh not only was it not enough for the hoodlums to do it once on Friday night, but when my car was parked in the same area again this past Tuesday night, they did it again! TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CAR.
I’m not the only one this happened to in the neighborhood but it’s still a bit disconcerting to find yourself rushing to work, scraping paint off of your rearview mirror with your thumbnail to try to be able to see. That’s delightful. Because really, you haven’t lived until you go through an entire day with black gunk under your fingernails, looking like Dooky from The Wire with a car that looks like it was rejected in the casting of “Beat Street 2.”
Apparently another car in the neighborhood, a white van owned by an Asian lady whom I assume uses it for Chinese food or Korean dry cleaning, also was painted. It cost her $300 to get the paint removed via compression (how compression makes paint come off I don’t know…how it costs $300 I reaaally don’t know).
I’ve got a date with paint remover this weekend, my birthday weekend at that, to get the stuff out that hasn’t been scraped off haphazardly with my once-delicate hands.
So I salute you Half-Assed spray-painter. Now I have a healthy distrust of anyone with an aerosol paint can in their hands. And it’s all thanks to you.
Something tells me this could also double as a Black Thought, but I’m merely speculating. Publicly. Privately it’s all racial epithets.
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