I’m annoyed, yo. Annoyed & Impatient!

A list of things I am going to do when I get my car back:

  1. Hit Essenwood Market for a red velvet cupcake with cream-cheese and sugar frosting.  Oh my fuckyum! It’s been far too long.
  2. Go and see a movie.  Park in the screwed up Musgrave parking arcade and stick the ticket between my boobs so I don’t lose it and have to break out of the arcade like I did that one day with Cath.
  3. Drive down to the beach and get a curried pineapple.
  4. Blast my stereo through Bayhead truck traffic with the windows down and get dirty looks from the traffic officers at the robots.
  5. Go deliver Cam’s Christmas prezzie. But will be SO parking either INSIDE The (former) Shath, or underground, or hire a car guard, or obtain a watchdog salivating all over the place waiting for robbers.  Just saying.
  6. Take my housemates out for celebratory karaoke at Vill-inn’s on a Monday night. Try not fall down drunk. This could prove to be dangerous. Obtain a Designated Dave* to drive me home safe.

The fucken police! I both loathe and love them, different departments respectfully.  The vehicle recovery sector is my bestest because well, they recovered my vehicle. Obviously.

The Detective Sergeant is awesome.  He’s a proper Durban Curry Muncher.  Bald head, thick gold necklace and bracelets, Seiko watch, gold tooth fillings and all the sayings: “seeyeah” (see here) being my favourite:

You choon them, stekkie, you choon dose insurance bustids and tune dem: ‘seeyeah – dis cah is mine, okey? You gimme de cash, I tek my cah one time wit dis mags added and we all happy ek se, don’t come give me no hassle’s and all’.

The charge rooms of the SAPS, however, are a bloody nightmare and a half.  Not only have I waited up to fifteen minutes on the phone before it gets answered, once I have a human on the other end I get transferred from one person to the next only to be told I need to come into the station.

This afternoon Ginger and I arrive at Umbilo SAPS and they once again fucking turn me away because now I have to go into the dodginess that is Durban CBD City and find some or other inspector who will (hopefully) sign the release forms so that the cool Detective Sergeant can release my Golf into the care of my insurance company.

I’m praying for patience here dudes, you know how impatient I am.  Knowing my car is standing there in the pound among bullet-holed vehicles used in robberies and other dormant rust bucket’s is driving me mucking fad!<–>

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