a witch with a "b."

Dear Irby and Ian,
I have a situation that I need your advice on. I came out to my car evening to discover that another driver had rudely blocked in myself and another driver. There was absolutely no way for either of us to get our cars out. I went back into my apartment building to see if I could find the culprit and ask her to move her car. While discussing the situation with another neighbor, the guilty party arrived at the scene. She didn't apologize and then claimed that she had only been parked there for five minutes. In fact, she had been parked there for at least 20 minutes (for 15 of which I had been standing in parking lot).

I explained to her that she shouldn't have been parked there at all since she was not a tenant of the building. Regardless of whether she was parked for a moment or a week, she shouldn't park in the tenants' lot, and she shouldn't have blocked me in. Well, a verbal argument ensued. She proceeded to stand nose-to-nose with me and then refused to move her car until I apologized to her. I called her a nasty name (a witch with a "B"). In short, the police had to come and ask the woman to move her car. My question is, how does one handle a stranger who is so inconsiderate and rude?

irby: the only time i fantasize about jettisoning my fast-paced, action-packed, exciting city life (i don't really have one of those, i promise) for the warm, easy-to-park embrace of the suburbs is when i think about how nice it would be to never have to race the motherfucking iGo car from target to whole foods to the laundromat in under three hours because i don't want to pay for extra goddamned mileage and gas ever fucking again. strip malls are boring and omg CHILDREN ARE SO FUCKING LOUD, but there is something to be said for the ability to deposit your car right in front of the window you will be hawkishly staring out of for half the night making sure that no one so much as breathes on that shit. i've owned four cars. all pieces of absolute garbage, all purchased with whatever loose change i could scavenge from couch cushions and broken pay phones, all junked after a year or two of having been driven into the ground and virtually destroyed by life on a crowded city neighborhood street. it's totally the worst.

so i understand the appeal of a building with a lot, but i also know from experience how some people just don't give a shit that you pay $150 more in rent than they do for the privilege of not having to walk nine blocks to your apartment because there were no spots available anywhere on your street. or the next one over. or the one after that.

fighting bitches is totally stupid, especially if you don't know whether or not she happens to be insane, so my initial reaction of "beat her motherfucking ass" is goddamned irresponsible. i have no idea whether or not you can throw a solid punch, or if you keep a shotgun in the back of your car. pepper spray is also handy but, unless you keep it in your pocket and are a reliable shot when under duress, you will most likely end up spraying yourself in the face and falling to the ground in the fetal position next to your minivan. so let's try this shit instead, and hope this inconsiderate bitch has an old-ass fucking car.

for this exercise you will need:
a slotted screwdriver.

a wire stripper.

insulated gloves.
a lion heart that pumps molten lava through your motherfucking veins.

pregame.
do you have any beers in your car? or a bottle of cheap whiskey or something? if you're anything like my salty ass, your answer is HELLS YES. i always had a bottle hidden under the seat of my car, mostly because i'm a scumbag. anyway, if you do, take a few warm-up swallows. this will help lubricate your joints and also serve as the courage you'll need to pull off something this BAD-FUCKING-ASS. i've only attempted this once, unsuccessfully, and i blame not having enough liquid gunpowder coursing through my system for my failure to properly execute stealing my ex-boyfriend's car so that i could burn it by the side of the road. okay, so with the hellfire that is a shot of old granddad screaming through your lungs, take what's left of that bottle and smash in the driver's side window. try the door handle first, as it is likely to be unlocked because this idiot planned on being gone for "just five minutes," but if she was smart enough to lock it? SMASH THAT SHIT. no bottle, no problem. i'm sure there is something in your car hard enough to break a window. take that paper starbucks cup and put your fucking back into it, you pussy. now get your gloves on and jump in, QUICK. before any nosy neighbors come outside to investigate that shattering glass noise that interrupted their 60 minutes viewing.

step one: remove the ignition cover.
you can try sticking the screwdriver in the ignition and attempting to start it that way, but that shit isn't going to goddamned work. so you need to gain access to the wiring if anything is going to jump off. most cars have large plastic panels that snap together and cover the top and bottom of the steering column. you'll want to carefully remove these panels so that the cylinder (and the wires running into it) are exposed. at some point you'll want to put these pieces back together, so be fucking gentle while separating them.

step two: identify the battery and starter wires.
you'll typically see three pairs of wires running into the back of the cylinder. don't freak the fuck out, each pair just represents a different key position on the ignition. in short, one pair should trigger the battery-only position, another pair the lights and radio position, and the last pair is responsible for the final key position: starting the car. there's no universal color system for the wires. consulting the manual is probably the best way to find out that vehicle's specific color code, and that's also probably the best way to GET YOUR STUPID ASS CAUGHT THE FUCK UP, DUMMY. however, in a pinch, which you are definitely in, the red pair is usually the set that provides power to the car, and the brown (which can be a single wire or a pair depending on the car) handles the starter.

step three: strip and connect the power wires. once you've located the wires that provide power to the car, disconnect them from the cylinder. use the wire stripper to remove the plastic from the ends and then twist them together. the result should be goddamned obvious: power to the dashboard, lights, and pretty much everything else in the motherfucking car.

step four: connect the starter wires to the power wires.
connecting the power wires is relatively safe, but the wires responsible for starting the car carry live current. don't fucking touch the bare starter wires with your hands. you could die, asshole. and then that bitch wins. strip the insulation off the ends of the wires and carefully touch them together. you should see a spark and hear the engine fire up. once it's started idling, separate and cover the ends of the starter wires.

SHOWTIME.
i have a flair for the dramatic, so i would wait until that bitch came out of the building and could watch me drive her car off the goddamned lot and into the side of a dumpster or some shit. those of you among us with smaller onions and a greater propensity to bitch the fuck up (read: some goddamned common sense) might just want to park that rusted-out ford focus a few blocks away and run back to wherever you've inconspicuously hidden your car to watch this bitch go crazy yelling on her cell phone to a tow truck company that has NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK SHE IS TALKING ABOUT. and sure, that's fucking hilarious, but setting that raggedy motherfucker on fire would be way sexier.

remember, jerks: hot wiring some asshole's inconveniently parked chevy beretta is ILLEGAL AS FUCK. and you should not, under absolutely any circumstance, ever consider doing this. but driving that shit into a light post before dropping a lit match and a bottle of nail polish remover into the back seat will be a uniquely satisfying experience, if you're willing to risk possible jail time and total ostracism from the family and close friends who prior to this break with sanity never suspected you were capable of such horror.

ps keep the gloves on the entire time and try not to get your fucking DNA all over the goddamned place. i watch a lot of fucking CSI. that shit is even in your tears, bro. they'll find your ass. for real.

pps seriously, though. this is a joke, not a solution you should ever resort to in your real fucking life. unless you're crazy. but just in case you do hotwire a car, get caught, and wind up in front of a judge somewhere slobbering and crying and begging for a plea bargain? ian wrote this shit.